This is long overdue, so lets jump into it. Not long ago, I, along with a majority of the Mojo's and some other drama people, (about nine people) had the opportunity to sit down with DC* from Derrick Comedy to talk about their new movie Mystery Team. In case you're wondering, he plays Duncan. The talk actually covered a variety of topics, such as DC, Donald (Jason), and Dominic's (Charlie) improvisation background at the Upright Citizen's Brigade, how they formed Derrick Comedy (which is the three guys, their producer, and their director. So, Derrick Comedy=5 people total), various bits on certain techniques and such, and then we came to the point that really interested me: how Mystery Team was made, or rather, what it took to make Mystery Team. As it turns out, Mystery Team had no major funding or backing from a production company. They were not, as it is often referred to, "signed". As DC put it, "there's really no such thing as 'being signed', and if there is, I don't know what it is." As it turns out, the entirety of Mystery Team was funded out of pocket by the Derrick Comedy guys, which is beyond impressive. "That's really the way we wanted it, though. Since we were the ones funding the project, we didn't have to answer to anyone else, or have anyone mess with our vision. But at the same time, it was really scary. We realized 'Hey, if we wanted to have a guy getting humped by a dog in the background of this scene, we could just do it!' and that's funny, yeah, but it's really more frightening, because we could completely mess this up, and it would all be on us. It was a lot of power."
And right there, in that exact moment, I realized I had more respect for Derrick Comedy than I could possibly fathom. They became what I essentially want to become, which is to say, I want to have that power. I saw Mystery Team the following night. It was good and it was funny. It wasn't Titanic or Superbad, but in many ways I respect Mystery Team much more than the other major films, because of what went into making it. Fin.
*DC, Derrick Comedy? Coincidence? I have no idea, I forgot to ask him.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
(Clever Title)
I don't have much for a comeback title right now, but I do feel the need for a comeback (which, contrary to what LL Cool J says, feel free to call it). Sorry for the radio static once again, but summer got hectic for a while and posting just wasn't a viable option. You know, I got a job, I lit some fires, blew some stuff up, avoiding any substantial romantic entanglements (kind of), grew my hair out, went to the fair, saw some movies, updated my twitter...You know, all the stuff cool kids do.
But lets move past that. Summers over, I'm back in college, with a roommate (three, actually), and it's time to start talking about my opinions again. For instance, viral marketing. Now, I know a lot of people have a lot of opinions about Red Bull: It's made from piss, it tastes like piss, it's made from bull semen (note: does not link to bull semen). Whatever your opinion on the taste or content, the one thing that can be said about Red Bull (or in the Jim Carrey quote playing in my head "Red-a Bull-a!") is that they have one of the strongest marketing and advertising presences, without really focusing on their product. For instance, I have seen, and know, a lot of people that work for Red Bull on campus. Their job is to simply distribute cans of Red Bull via whatever means necessary, leading to both really good ways, and really, really bad ways.
Example the first: My first class of the semester was a large lecture class, in which I sat in the balcony (BIG lecture) near the back. As class was rapping up, I peered out the door, where two girls wearing Red Bull backpacks were stacking Red Bull pyramids for the onslaught of consumers about to bust through the door. Unfortunately, they didn't begin the construction soon enough, thus people rushed out before they were done, and they had to scurry away. Had they actually completed the pyramids, it would have been a most ingenious display, combining the consumers natural draw to free samples, with an impressive, almost magical, structure where one would normally not be. Thus, pulled off successfully, the two things drawing you to Red Bull would be the taste and the sense of wonders. You would associate Red Bull with the phrase "drink ninjas" (naturally), and they're done. Instant win. But, and this is important, it didn't work out that way, but I still took three Red Bulls, which is a success.
Example the second: I had a friend whose sister worked for Red Bull in high school. This is the time when Red Bull was first getting acquainted with an American market, and they're on-the-street tactics were still far from being popular. So, essentially, they had a lot of product, and it just wasn't moving. Without a lot of money for television advertisements and realizing that consumer association (i.e. Kleenex instead of tissue) is the ideal way to becoming a success, Red Bull needed a way to get their products into the hands of the people with minimal amounts of persuasion. Solution? Alcohol. Ever wonder about the first person to combine vodka and Red Bull? I'll give you a hint, it wasn't on a whim. Now, this in and of itself isn't such a bad idea, Red Bull would just be targeting a smaller consumer base. Look back at my first sentence in this example, however. The sister, who is in high school, is supposed to distributing her product as an alcohol mixer.
What?
Nah, it makes sense, brah. See, now, not that Red Bull is "condoning" minors consuming alcohol, but if she happened to be at a party and someone happened to have alcohol, well, you know what makes that SO much easier to swallow...? Yeah, Red Bull actually told her to go around to high school parties, and taut Red Bull as the mixer of choice. She quit soon after.
So there you have it. Red Bull: effective, by any means necessary. Now, if you want a more, I don't know, scientific approach, because my whole "I-heard-this-through-a-friend's-sister" story has some trouble follow the scientific method, well, tough. This is a blog. There's also a lot of other things I could touch on, like the Red Bull "Look-How-Aerodynamic-People-Aren't" competition, or all the random-ass (random ASS) racing competitions they have, but I couldn't smoothly work them in, so sorry.
In other news, Twitter (again). You ever wonder why it's around. Because sometimes, there's just no better way to tell people about stuff like this: Shit My Dad Says.
Fin.
But lets move past that. Summers over, I'm back in college, with a roommate (three, actually), and it's time to start talking about my opinions again. For instance, viral marketing. Now, I know a lot of people have a lot of opinions about Red Bull: It's made from piss, it tastes like piss, it's made from bull semen (note: does not link to bull semen). Whatever your opinion on the taste or content, the one thing that can be said about Red Bull (or in the Jim Carrey quote playing in my head "Red-a Bull-a!") is that they have one of the strongest marketing and advertising presences, without really focusing on their product. For instance, I have seen, and know, a lot of people that work for Red Bull on campus. Their job is to simply distribute cans of Red Bull via whatever means necessary, leading to both really good ways, and really, really bad ways.
Example the first: My first class of the semester was a large lecture class, in which I sat in the balcony (BIG lecture) near the back. As class was rapping up, I peered out the door, where two girls wearing Red Bull backpacks were stacking Red Bull pyramids for the onslaught of consumers about to bust through the door. Unfortunately, they didn't begin the construction soon enough, thus people rushed out before they were done, and they had to scurry away. Had they actually completed the pyramids, it would have been a most ingenious display, combining the consumers natural draw to free samples, with an impressive, almost magical, structure where one would normally not be. Thus, pulled off successfully, the two things drawing you to Red Bull would be the taste and the sense of wonders. You would associate Red Bull with the phrase "drink ninjas" (naturally), and they're done. Instant win. But, and this is important, it didn't work out that way, but I still took three Red Bulls, which is a success.
Example the second: I had a friend whose sister worked for Red Bull in high school. This is the time when Red Bull was first getting acquainted with an American market, and they're on-the-street tactics were still far from being popular. So, essentially, they had a lot of product, and it just wasn't moving. Without a lot of money for television advertisements and realizing that consumer association (i.e. Kleenex instead of tissue) is the ideal way to becoming a success, Red Bull needed a way to get their products into the hands of the people with minimal amounts of persuasion. Solution? Alcohol. Ever wonder about the first person to combine vodka and Red Bull? I'll give you a hint, it wasn't on a whim. Now, this in and of itself isn't such a bad idea, Red Bull would just be targeting a smaller consumer base. Look back at my first sentence in this example, however. The sister, who is in high school, is supposed to distributing her product as an alcohol mixer.
What?
Nah, it makes sense, brah. See, now, not that Red Bull is "condoning" minors consuming alcohol, but if she happened to be at a party and someone happened to have alcohol, well, you know what makes that SO much easier to swallow...? Yeah, Red Bull actually told her to go around to high school parties, and taut Red Bull as the mixer of choice. She quit soon after.
So there you have it. Red Bull: effective, by any means necessary. Now, if you want a more, I don't know, scientific approach, because my whole "I-heard-this-through-a-friend's-sister" story has some trouble follow the scientific method, well, tough. This is a blog. There's also a lot of other things I could touch on, like the Red Bull "Look-How-Aerodynamic-People-Aren't" competition, or all the random-ass (random ASS) racing competitions they have, but I couldn't smoothly work them in, so sorry.
In other news, Twitter (again). You ever wonder why it's around. Because sometimes, there's just no better way to tell people about stuff like this: Shit My Dad Says.
Fin.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Revenge is best not served at a potluck
I think I enjoy punishing myself with bad entertainment.
A few hours ago, I finished my first and (hopefully) only viewing of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. I took the following hours to try and collect my thoughts on the visual splooge Michael Bay shot into my face, but I feel that whatever I say will still come off as rambling and nigh incoherent. Lets see where this goes, shall we? First, foremost, and perhaps the most important warning before viewing this movie: "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" is at it's core a two hour, forty-five minute PSA for joining the armed forces. Don't take this the wrong way, I have a huge respect for our citizens in uniform. What they do and sacrifice for the rest of us is immense, an unmeasurable commitment of service to freedom and our preferred way of life. However, the entirety of this movie was essentially chronicling how each section of the armed forces (Army, Navy, etc.) would respond to an intensive "impending-threat"(terrorist?) situation, and how near-flawlessly they would pull off their response. Sure, this is reassuring...if I didn't assume that this was simply their reaction to giant fucking robots. Not to mention the fact that I shouldn't be asking myself, from an audience point of view, WHY am I viewing the entire bureaucracy behind an air strike. This part of the blame falls entirely on Michael Bay. If it was actually necessary to the plot, there should be no questions asked. I should simply go along with what is happening on screen, if for no other reason than "oh, of course, this has to happen so that (x) happens". No. Not necessary. Not when the focus of your movie is giant fucking robots operating outside of any government actions. Now, granted Bay, you tried. You tried to tie this whole "giant fucking robots (or GFR's) working FOR the government" into the plot, but you really need more depth than Optimus Prime talking about it in a complete throwaway tangent sentence.
Speaking of Prime, there's problem number two. Why the fuck does Prime talk like he's emotionlessly quoting himself from the original cartoon, and yet, literally, every other robot speaks and functions in a, lets say, unique and presently accessible fashion? Sure, Optimus goes along acting like the rest of the robots, ripping out the hearts of Decepticons and beating Starscream with his own arm, but he talks like he has a pullcord. Again, totally rips me from the fantastical reality in which you want me to believe. Now, I can go on with petty details about this movie, about the two BLATANTLY RACIST, gold-tooth sporting GFR's, or how the romantic entanglement between Megan Fox and Shia Lebeouf was so asinine and unrelatable due to the lack of any true emotion from either party (though the constant use of the 360 camera really DID make me believe that Shia wanted to say he loved Megan all along!), or the fact that Megan Fox was used as simply a walking pair of lips on top of boobs. No. Instead, I'll simply sum up this entire rant in the form of a question: Why, God, why do you let Michael Bay make any decision involved in movie production? Do you hate us? Do you like to fill us with mindless suffering and blind fury? Couldn't you have simply, I don't know, delivered the flaming corpse of Santa Claus and officially ended Christmas? It would have been so much sweeter.
Oh, and to those that may say I've ruined this movie, or that my critique is too harsh, perhaps even too trite, perhaps even nonsensical and warrantless. You all? Go back, spend another $9, and try and block out everything I have put forth here and now. Try. I dare you.
Now, however, I need to check myself. Was my $9 a complete waste? No. I did find immense enjoyment in watching warring races of alien robots completely obliterate each other in ways nigh unimaginable. Was it art? Not in the least. Does it deserve an Oscar? Hardly. Was it as good a time as, say, riding a rollercoaster four times? Yes. Yes it was.
"Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. It's like riding a rollercoaster. Four times."
Fin.
Next Time: "Cold Souls" and the actual ability to sell your soul! (I shit you not).
A few hours ago, I finished my first and (hopefully) only viewing of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. I took the following hours to try and collect my thoughts on the visual splooge Michael Bay shot into my face, but I feel that whatever I say will still come off as rambling and nigh incoherent. Lets see where this goes, shall we? First, foremost, and perhaps the most important warning before viewing this movie: "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" is at it's core a two hour, forty-five minute PSA for joining the armed forces. Don't take this the wrong way, I have a huge respect for our citizens in uniform. What they do and sacrifice for the rest of us is immense, an unmeasurable commitment of service to freedom and our preferred way of life. However, the entirety of this movie was essentially chronicling how each section of the armed forces (Army, Navy, etc.) would respond to an intensive "impending-threat"(terrorist?) situation, and how near-flawlessly they would pull off their response. Sure, this is reassuring...if I didn't assume that this was simply their reaction to giant fucking robots. Not to mention the fact that I shouldn't be asking myself, from an audience point of view, WHY am I viewing the entire bureaucracy behind an air strike. This part of the blame falls entirely on Michael Bay. If it was actually necessary to the plot, there should be no questions asked. I should simply go along with what is happening on screen, if for no other reason than "oh, of course, this has to happen so that (x) happens". No. Not necessary. Not when the focus of your movie is giant fucking robots operating outside of any government actions. Now, granted Bay, you tried. You tried to tie this whole "giant fucking robots (or GFR's) working FOR the government" into the plot, but you really need more depth than Optimus Prime talking about it in a complete throwaway tangent sentence.
Speaking of Prime, there's problem number two. Why the fuck does Prime talk like he's emotionlessly quoting himself from the original cartoon, and yet, literally, every other robot speaks and functions in a, lets say, unique and presently accessible fashion? Sure, Optimus goes along acting like the rest of the robots, ripping out the hearts of Decepticons and beating Starscream with his own arm, but he talks like he has a pullcord. Again, totally rips me from the fantastical reality in which you want me to believe. Now, I can go on with petty details about this movie, about the two BLATANTLY RACIST, gold-tooth sporting GFR's, or how the romantic entanglement between Megan Fox and Shia Lebeouf was so asinine and unrelatable due to the lack of any true emotion from either party (though the constant use of the 360 camera really DID make me believe that Shia wanted to say he loved Megan all along!), or the fact that Megan Fox was used as simply a walking pair of lips on top of boobs. No. Instead, I'll simply sum up this entire rant in the form of a question: Why, God, why do you let Michael Bay make any decision involved in movie production? Do you hate us? Do you like to fill us with mindless suffering and blind fury? Couldn't you have simply, I don't know, delivered the flaming corpse of Santa Claus and officially ended Christmas? It would have been so much sweeter.
Oh, and to those that may say I've ruined this movie, or that my critique is too harsh, perhaps even too trite, perhaps even nonsensical and warrantless. You all? Go back, spend another $9, and try and block out everything I have put forth here and now. Try. I dare you.
Now, however, I need to check myself. Was my $9 a complete waste? No. I did find immense enjoyment in watching warring races of alien robots completely obliterate each other in ways nigh unimaginable. Was it art? Not in the least. Does it deserve an Oscar? Hardly. Was it as good a time as, say, riding a rollercoaster four times? Yes. Yes it was.
"Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. It's like riding a rollercoaster. Four times."
Fin.
Next Time: "Cold Souls" and the actual ability to sell your soul! (I shit you not).
Monday, May 04, 2009
I Don't Give A F!@# aka Tacos and Crank 2: Kindred Souls
Internet, I've made a discovery. It has, as of yet, not been run through properly using the scientific method, thus rendering it a mere theory, but even in this premature state I feel my findings are worthy of sharing. Recently, I subjected myself to the horror that is Crank 2. After the initial shock-value wore off, I started actually thinking about what I had just witnessed, and came to the startling realization that both Crank 2 and tacos have more in common than one would think. Let that soak in for a second.
tacos = Crank 2? Pretty much.
..."What the fuck?" Yeah, I know. But hear me out.
Before I jump right into the meat of this hypothetical sandwich, lets break down the bread.
Tacos- Surprisingly, this is not referring to the double entendre of the word. Instead, we can turn to the official Merriam-Webster definition:
taco (ˈtä-kō') (n.) - a usually fried tortilla that is folded or rolled and stuffed with a mixture (as of seasoned meat, cheese, and lettuce).
Yes, glorious, glorious tacos. Need more of an explanation? Here:
Picture 1 - A taco (fucking visual learners)
Moving on.
Crank 2 - Crank 2: High Voltage is the sequel to the action/thriller Crank, wherein main character (and arguable decedent of Achilles) Chev Chelios is injected with a drug that stunts the adrenaline flow to his heart, slowing his heartbeat and eventually killing Chelios. Instead of allowing this to happen, Chelios finds new and creative ways to spike his adrenaline whilst tracking down the men who poisoned him, eventually ending with Chelios killing main antagonist Ricky Verona and falling a considerably high distance from a helicopter, smashing into the cement below. He doesn't die. In Crank 2, Chev is picked up off the cement, has his heart removed, replaced with a electric fake, wakes up several weeks later, and sets out to retrieve his original ticker. Of course, there are complications. First of all, Chev's heart needs a charge to keep ticking. Second, Chev has a set of difficult obstacles to go through set throughout the vast city of Los Angeles to get to his heart. These two points combine lead to a set of extremely wacky events taking place, including (but not limited to) a pornstar strike, sex on a horse track during a race, a disembodied head kept alive in a fish tank, a Godzilla-esque monster fight, and a full-bodied tourettes plagued cross-dressing sidekick. Just how ridiculous is the plot of this movie? Let me save you 96 minutes. It ends with Chev, on fire, skin melting, facing the camera, middle-finger raised. This film is absurd on a level that exceeds irony. It doesn't merely acknowledge that it is preposterous, it revels in it. This in no way makes the film good, but it does make it amazing.
So, in what way do these two items share any qualities? Allow me to provide a piece of evidence: Fine Art Taco Photography. This is my new favorite website. It is dedicated solely to artistic photography of tacos. It targets an incredibly absurd niche and in such a genuine way. This website is not for you. This website is not for me. And that is what makes it amazing.
This is where the Venn Diagram overlaps. Both of these works are intended for audiences which are extremely minute and both present themselves as nothing more than they are at face-value. And this is what makes them amazing. Arguably, Crank 2 was simply the creators of Crank seeing how much more ridiculous they could make the plot, simply to see if they could get away with it. It was intended for no one but themselves. It doesn't matter if the public likes it. It doesn't matter if one guy, Jeff, from Nevada is the only person on Earth outside of the crew that likes it. It won't be changed for quality, it won't be changed for Jeff, and it doesn't bill itself as something it's not. The same goes for Fine Art Taco Photography. Whether or not someone likes it, whether or not it gets viewed at all, the very fact that it exists is what makes it so great. And it simply is pictures of tacos in an artistic fashion. The pure absurdity mixed with the simple intention of both these pieces is what makes them brilliant.
And that is how Crank 2 is like a taco.
tacos = Crank 2? Pretty much.
..."What the fuck?" Yeah, I know. But hear me out.
Before I jump right into the meat of this hypothetical sandwich, lets break down the bread.
Tacos- Surprisingly, this is not referring to the double entendre of the word. Instead, we can turn to the official Merriam-Webster definition:
taco (ˈtä-kō') (n.) - a usually fried tortilla that is folded or rolled and stuffed with a mixture (as of seasoned meat, cheese, and lettuce).
Yes, glorious, glorious tacos. Need more of an explanation? Here:
Picture 1 - A taco (fucking visual learners)
Moving on.
Crank 2 - Crank 2: High Voltage is the sequel to the action/thriller Crank, wherein main character (and arguable decedent of Achilles) Chev Chelios is injected with a drug that stunts the adrenaline flow to his heart, slowing his heartbeat and eventually killing Chelios. Instead of allowing this to happen, Chelios finds new and creative ways to spike his adrenaline whilst tracking down the men who poisoned him, eventually ending with Chelios killing main antagonist Ricky Verona and falling a considerably high distance from a helicopter, smashing into the cement below. He doesn't die. In Crank 2, Chev is picked up off the cement, has his heart removed, replaced with a electric fake, wakes up several weeks later, and sets out to retrieve his original ticker. Of course, there are complications. First of all, Chev's heart needs a charge to keep ticking. Second, Chev has a set of difficult obstacles to go through set throughout the vast city of Los Angeles to get to his heart. These two points combine lead to a set of extremely wacky events taking place, including (but not limited to) a pornstar strike, sex on a horse track during a race, a disembodied head kept alive in a fish tank, a Godzilla-esque monster fight, and a full-bodied tourettes plagued cross-dressing sidekick. Just how ridiculous is the plot of this movie? Let me save you 96 minutes. It ends with Chev, on fire, skin melting, facing the camera, middle-finger raised. This film is absurd on a level that exceeds irony. It doesn't merely acknowledge that it is preposterous, it revels in it. This in no way makes the film good, but it does make it amazing.
So, in what way do these two items share any qualities? Allow me to provide a piece of evidence: Fine Art Taco Photography. This is my new favorite website. It is dedicated solely to artistic photography of tacos. It targets an incredibly absurd niche and in such a genuine way. This website is not for you. This website is not for me. And that is what makes it amazing.
This is where the Venn Diagram overlaps. Both of these works are intended for audiences which are extremely minute and both present themselves as nothing more than they are at face-value. And this is what makes them amazing. Arguably, Crank 2 was simply the creators of Crank seeing how much more ridiculous they could make the plot, simply to see if they could get away with it. It was intended for no one but themselves. It doesn't matter if the public likes it. It doesn't matter if one guy, Jeff, from Nevada is the only person on Earth outside of the crew that likes it. It won't be changed for quality, it won't be changed for Jeff, and it doesn't bill itself as something it's not. The same goes for Fine Art Taco Photography. Whether or not someone likes it, whether or not it gets viewed at all, the very fact that it exists is what makes it so great. And it simply is pictures of tacos in an artistic fashion. The pure absurdity mixed with the simple intention of both these pieces is what makes them brilliant.
And that is how Crank 2 is like a taco.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
"Will You Please Shut Up?"
So, another quick update. I am performing a piece entitled "Will You Please Shut Up?" by Dan O' Brien for acting class. What's the point of posting this fact (other than my pure aura of awesome)? Well, in the truest of Improv Everywhere standards (actually, not the truest in the least), my scene partner and I have been challenged to perform this particular piece on an actual bus ride for the grand prize of an "A" in the class. I, having no discernible shame, am completely willing to step up to this challenge. Wait on baited breath for the video confirmation of this grand shenanigan. It will be glorious. For those who missed my last youtube experience: My All-Nighter (God I love self-promotion. Shallow ego boost for the win!)
Fin.
Edit: Happy Spring/Easter!
Fin.
Edit: Happy Spring/Easter!
Friday, March 20, 2009
31%
Now feels like a good time to step out from the little Emo cave I've been in for the last month or so. It's been a rough and busy time period. I'm an initiated member of Delta Tau Delta, a fraternity founded by several men of spectacular facial hair. Of course, to do this, I spent last week (now two weeks ago) in a general hell, but most of the finer details are not to be revealed to the general public. Lets just suffice to say that it was the best week I never want to repeat.
So, why 31%? Well, that's the amount of charge left on my laptop battery when I started this post from the Tampa International Airport and, coincidentally, the same amount of charge left when I picked this post back up from my dorm room three days and two charges later. No, there is no battery problem, the battery just so happens to be drained to the same point again. Whether you believe this or not is up to you, but it tis the truth indeed.
And thus, I pick this post up for the third (and hopefully final) time. I've decided that if this post doesn't get out sooner than later, I'm going to completely lose whatever is left in my blog, so, this is a transmission, out to the world, I'm back, I'm working on some new projects, and I'm going to be churning out posts as much as possible, so tune in, turn it up, and read. Loudly. Fin.
So, why 31%? Well, that's the amount of charge left on my laptop battery when I started this post from the Tampa International Airport and, coincidentally, the same amount of charge left when I picked this post back up from my dorm room three days and two charges later. No, there is no battery problem, the battery just so happens to be drained to the same point again. Whether you believe this or not is up to you, but it tis the truth indeed.
And thus, I pick this post up for the third (and hopefully final) time. I've decided that if this post doesn't get out sooner than later, I'm going to completely lose whatever is left in my blog, so, this is a transmission, out to the world, I'm back, I'm working on some new projects, and I'm going to be churning out posts as much as possible, so tune in, turn it up, and read. Loudly. Fin.
