Patriots’ Most Off Off-season Ever!

off off-season

New Book!

It is a hilarious romp that could make a highlight reel of its own!

From a championship ride through the streets of Boston before 1 million fans – to winning the ESPY award, you can follow every strange moment in Patriots history of 2017!

If you want to see what your New England Patriots have been on up to since the Super Bowl victory in January, and before they have begun the new campaign of 2017, you need to look at the new book that details every ridiculous adventure, scandal, and outrageous behavior, of the winning team.

From the twisted blogs of Ossurworld who was there for every minute!

now available on Amazon for smart readers and their tablets.

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Collide with Nicholas Hoult

DATELINE:  Overripe Vintage Villains

hoult2

Oh, no, not a noisy car chase movie with Nicholas Hoult? Heavens, spare us. On top of that, the Brit actor again plays an American boy with a surfer accent. Not bad.

He seems to have gone the route of James Franco—two inconsequential movies and one film of substance. Collide seems to be inconsequential, but not so fast.

We rolled our eyes when the first scene of Nick Hoult is his blue eyes in the rear-view mirror as he races down the highway, heading for a metaphoric crash as the voice-over notes how he did it all for love.

We prepared for movieland dismissal. However, something surprised us: suddenly there was Ben Kingsley in one of his patented creepy mobster roles, watching an old John Travolta movie and commenting on the bad acting. Oh?

He started calling Hoult by the movie star name of “Burt Reynolds.”  We were hooked, and then some when Kingsley’s archrival drug kingpin is none other than Shakespearean nasty villain Anthony Hopkins, playing the respectable son of a Nazi interrogator.

All the crime henchmen look like the bearded ladies at the circus. And, one of many chases was on.

It was ridiculous to say the least: Hoult’s girlfriend is on dialysis, but remains a party-girl for his love. Big crime will pay for a kidney transplant. Okay.

The chases and fights do leave Hoult breathless and agonized, which one seldom sees in heroes of this brand of movie. He clearly wanted to perform with the legends of Hopkins and Kingsley—and he manages to more than hold his own.

It’s all over the top, but we stayed around for the credits—never expecting that Hopkins and Kingsley would be billed as “Sir Anthony” and “Sir Ben” and then have stunt doubles listed.

Yeah, we liked this one.

Bunuel Takes On Death in the Garden

DATELINE: Signoret & Marchal in the Garden

death in the garden

Director Luis Bunuel’s reputation after he made Robinson Crusoe in the 1950s was an art-house director in the United States, but a film genius elsewhere. He was all the rage at Harvard’s Brattle Theatre crowd.

So, he was sent back to the jungle in 1956 to make a Mexican-French survivors facing the elements, a subject quite popular back in the ‘50s when a spate of these plane crash movies and South American headhunters took center stage.

Death in the Garden differed a bit. It started out as a political rebellion in a small mining town in the Sierra Madre—and threw together a prostitute who is a bit hard-edged, an adventurer, a priest, an old man and his deaf daughter, into the steamy jungles.

They are chased by military police for reasons both right and wrong, depending on the guilty party.

Bunuel had a couple of curve balls in his arsenal. He had a young (mid-30s) Simone Signoret, fresh off Diabolique and not yet the international star, and a French lookalike of Sterling Hayden, the tough guy Georges Marchal.

Bunuel avoided headhunters, but went for the jugular in the jungle. His characters were literally animals:  Shark, Birdie, Father Lizardi, and no one is truly innocent or nice. So, you can expect characters to be picked off, but may have a harder time predicting who will be done in.

Just when it looks like the jungle will do them in, they discover a crashed airplane (from one of those other jungle movies) filled with provisions to give them another chance.

The film is subtler than most American versions of the story circulating in drive-ins of the day—and its cynicism and politics likely keeps it in the sphere of film aficionados, not movie fans. It remains minor Bunuel, but intriguing nonetheless.

 

So-So-Soviet Solaris

DATELINE:  Solaris (1972, Russian version)

solaris  Breughel painting

The original Andrei Tarkovsky film called Solaris has been hailed by many sci-fi fans as the greatest fiction ever made. This is the Soviet version of 2001: A Space Odyssey, according to many.  It was remade with George Clooney in recent years to great jeers.

This Soviet three-hour epic drama of dreams and memories takes place mostly in a space ship orbiting a mysterious planet called Solaris. There an ocean of living mass can take human minds and create ghosts or hallucinations of flesh and blood to haunt the three cosmonauts.

We must be losing our touch because, though the film deals with quantum physics and string theory decades before they were discovered, the Soviet film is largely a snooze-fest.

Parts of the film are intriguing, and much of it is highly cerebral. However, there is a 90-minute movie lurking among the ponderous and pointless scenes of traffic jams and nature walks.

Made before computers changed the landscape, the film manages to ignore the Kubrick innovations with computers, a film made several years earlier. Both films share an existential crisis or two, and puzzling moments of metaphysics, if that’s your thing.

One might laugh at the notion of shooting thousands of books into outer space nowadays. The payload must have been a killer. There is quite a library aboard the Russian spaceship.

Our favorite scene must be the three-minute sequence that lingers silently on one of our favorite paintings by Breughel, ‘Hunters in the Snow’, which hangs in the Soviet ship as some kind of commentary on the difficulty of survival. We have a copy in our library and ponder it now and then.

The payoff of the film is hardly Twilight Zone worthy and may not satisfy the previous exposition. Yet, maybe you are among those who will see this as a great movie. We, alas, are standing in the other line, waiting for Godot.

 

Why Him? Why This Movie?

DATELINE: More Francophobia

why him?

James Franco stars here. As we know, Franco alternates between serious, literary movies, and mindless, nuthouse comedies. This falls into the latter.

Here he plays an exasperating, offensive, foul-mouthed extreme version of his most irritating persona. Opposite him is Bryan Cranston playing a curdmudgeon father of a beautiful Stanford co-ed who is cohabitating with this lout.

He wants to marry her, though she is so conservative we can never figure out why they are together to begin with. Franco is so appalling that we wonder why anyone wants to be in the same movie.

Of course, the fly in the ointment is that Franco’s Laird Mayhew is a video-games entrepreneur billionaire who cavorts with the likes of Elon Musk. Yes, he appears.

In a twisted way, Cranston’s befuddled father is perfect and the air-headed script flies by with tasteless scene following even more tasteless scene. We have been watching too many high quality, artistic movies, and have been brought down to earth in a crash with this picture.

Franco must win over Cranston to win over Zoey Deutch. Megan Mullaly, Cedric the Entertainer, and Griffin Gluck are around for the ride. Keegan-Michael Key steals the picture largely as the overgrown “houseboy” (via the Inspector Clouseau movies, proudly plagiarizing Pink Panther).

In its own way, this is a perverse Xmas movie, complete with references to Macauley Culkin being home alone to make the entire concept completely incongruous.

You may laugh as the Millennials truly make the Baby Boomers take one on the chin.

In case you wonder, the hideous art hanging in Laird’s house all were done by James Franco, who else?

Stuffed shirts always loosen up in face of a James Franco onslaught. The film defies you not to laugh.

 

 

 

 

Charming Caper: How to Steal a Million

 DATELINE:  Masterpieces on Satire

 

 How to

If you look at this movie’s pedigree, you cannot go wrong. How to Steal a Million was a bit of fluff and a trifle from 1966 when stars were really able to carry a movie.

Audrey Hepburn can be forgiven for some of the ridiculous 1960s Givenchy outfits, but she is perfect in them—and her costar Peter O’Toole matches her every step of the way, even commenting it is time to give Givenchy a day off.

A wealthy socialite, Hepburn must orchestrate a theft from a Paris museum of a fake statue she owns but puts on loan in error! The museum is about to have the priceless fake examined—and she will be found out—and her father sent to prison.

O’Toole was escaping his epic dramas, for some fluff, with this film.

Director William Wyler (Mrs. Miniver, Ben Hur, Roman Holiday, The Heiress, and countless other classics) knows how to deliver high class and high quality. On top of that, it is one of John Williams’s first music scores (Jaws, Star Wars, etc.).

Combine this with top-of-their-career performances by Hepburn and O’Toole and you will forgive some of the anachronisms of the 1960s. O’Toole even gives us a quick impersonation of one of Hepburn’s earlier leading men (Humphrey Bogart, Sabrina).

Hugh Griffith is Hepburn’s reprobate father and Charles Boyer is around for a laugh, but Eli Wallach surprises as the wealthy boorish American billionaire art collector.

Filmed in Paris for atmosphere, the clever caper unfolds under the aegis of O’Toole who is actually a detective who uncovers art forgeries.

 

 

Deep Impact: 20 Years Later

 DATELINE:  Stars Die to Save Humanity

deep impact

We heard that the premise of this old disaster movie was actually based on a government plan of what would happen in an Extinction Level Event. The first 20 minutes of this film are marvelous, intelligent, and suddenly undone.

Its special effects are not bad, even by today’s hyped-up computer special-effects level of distinction. Yet, there is something sadly wasteful about the movie. And, some of the scenes are way off:  World Trade Center meets a horrible fictional end.

Oh, this disaster had a woman director, Mimi Leder and was produced by Stephen Spielberg and Richard Zanuck. The film throws some great performers into the mix in small, unimportant roles: Vanessa Redgrave and Maximilian Schell are not given much to do as Tea Leoni’s parents. Why are they there, except for a paycheck?

Morgan Freeman plays an Obama-style president ten years before Obama actually became the first black president. You can throw in James Cromwell for a few minutes, and Elijah Wood looks downright adolescent as the kid who first discovers the deadly impact is coming on his small telescope.

Oh, you will see Jon Favreau and Blair Underwood as Robert Duvall’s astronaut crew—and Leelee Sobleski hangs around too.

All these wonderful performers were faced with a deplorable situation: and it wasn’t the plot. It was a bad music score that often drowns out their most dramatic moments and lines. Who decided to Mickey Mouse the film like it was a Road Runner cartoon?

Most fans of disaster will hang around to see the world crumble. It’s 1997, folks, so the World Trade Center is standing until a tidal wave hits. The Statue of Liberty loses her head, and the Brooklyn Bridge is awash.

It’s the big pay-off, but the film is not so awful as to kill everyone. Hope spring eternal when stars sacrifice their lives (and careers) to save humanity. If this is a spoiler, we plead guilty.

What a disappointing movie.

WordPress, Wherefore Art Thou?

DATELINE:  Biting the Hand That Feeds Us Tofu Turkey

Tofu   tofu turkey

Almost as juicy as our Tofu Turkey Award, we were just notified by WordPress that this is our seventh anniversary.

We almost expect the locust to descend upon our readers.

Every once in a while we realize that there are awards out there for blogs, but as Ella Fitzgerald used to sing, “But Not for Me….”

Yes, indeed, bloggers are writing songs of love, but not for me.

We heard there are real WordPress awards out there, but they are as mysterious as the Men in Black for us.

Fear not, fearless readers. We will continue for another seven years writing movie reviews on weird movies, pushing our bad books, and berating Tom Brady. If we are not mistaken, seven years is about the same length of time for those with bad luck when you break a mirror.

Thank you, WordPress, for reminding us.

 

 

Tom Brady Writes a Book: Sort of

DATELINE: Literary Lightweights

kindlecover

No, we are innocent of the crime:  we did not ghostwrite Tom Brady’s new book: The TB12 Method.

We suspect that even Tom does not know who wrote his book. He only found out he wrote a book recently.  He has been busy doing other things, like traveling to China, training for the new season in Wyoming, and charity events—not to mention teaming up with Tony Robbins.

The Robbins event would have been a good chance to announce his new motivational book.  He didn’t because the corporation behind Tom, into making money, only tells Tom about the checks he receives for endorsements. So, who wrote Tom’s new book?

And will this be a better best seller than Tom’s pajamas or secret recipe compilation? It likely won’t be cheap to buy. Tom likes expensive prices on his merchandise. He learned that from Tony Robbins.

The world learned this week about Tom Brady’s new literary effort that is based on his dietary, physical training and personal philosophy.  The book will be out during the upcoming season to maximize royalty payments.

We don’t know when Tom had time to write so-called book, but certainly the idea was floating around when he did the Tony Robbins motivational speaker show in Boston. If he had been working on the book then, he would’ve likely mentioned it during his appearance as a motivational speaker. He did not.

However, he may have been inspired to come up with a book to make more money when he heard Julian Edelman wrote a children’s book about a greedy squirrel with an obsession on nuts.

Tom’s book is already a best-seller on Amazon–without a cover or a price.

We would like to take credit as Tom’s ghost writer, but the book apparently is not about ghosts, nor one with humorous intent or comical asides.  Tom does that quite well– but we are slightly better.

So, we are forced to ask Tom: Was it something we said in one of our nasty books on a previous Patriots season or on the scandal of Deflategate that caused Tom’s handlers to select a different ghostwriter?

We know Tom would have picked us if he knew he was writing a book. He appreciates excellence in grammar.

Logo Wars: Michael Jordan v. Gronk

DATELINE:  Sports Deadlock

 logo warsIt takes balls.

 

Michael Jordan’s silhouette image on all the junk he markets, around since the 1980s, is called Jumpman. We never knew his dunkman had a nickname.

Now, because Gronk has filed an image for his brand of products that resembles a silhouette of an athlete in action, we have a conflict that will be settled in the biggest court/gridiron, that of the boardroom of highly paid corporate lawyers.

Jordan and Gronk are prepared to go head to head, or shadow to shadow for the title King of Greed.

The problem for the two athletes and their endless money making operations is that some dumb kid will confuse Jordan with Gronk. Yes, you may buy a basketball sneaker and think it’s for playing football.

We know our educational systems are dumbed down more than ever—but we thought the emergence of emoji and sign language has sent kids back to the level of cave dwellers with an eye for cave art.

So, you mean they cannot tell the difference between a football shape and a basketball shape?

We are talking apples and oranges here, or at least spheres of another world.

Two tall athletes, arms raised, legs akimbo, holding some totem object is sending legal minds into overdrive. You can never tell when someone may spike a basketball, or dunk a football.

We have seen idiot players score a touchdown and then dunk the football over the goal bar. You can easily forget what sport you are watching.

It’s all the same when it comes to millions of dollars and corporate greed. It’s all part of the modern gladiator combat of American sports. We think Gronk and Jordan ought be holding tridents and nets, versus short swords and shields.

Oh, wait, they already did that sports combat scene in Spartacus. It was Woody Strode versus Kirk Douglas, all for the edification of decadent Laurence Olivier.

We are always happy to assume the role of Olivier in a combat between Gronk and MJ.

Sizzle Fizzle Melt Down for Holden & Hepburn

 DATELINE: Paris When It Sizzles

melt down Holden & Hepburn

With the godawful title of 1964’s Paris When It Sizzles, you have two glorious stars of the 1950s on the cusp of making lesser films.

William Holden plays his patented, jaded screenwriter (shades of Sunset Boulevard) with a drinking problem made light (though Holden went into detox during filming).

Hepburn hardly fits the role of a typist secretary in a Givenchy wardrobe, but the film is spritely written in Noel Coward witty style and gives us a bad movie within the less bad movie, using the play-within-a-play device.

Genres of grade-B films are broadly satirized, including Holden in the Dracula role for a few laughs. It’s an insider laugh, but we thought he should have costarred with his pal Lucille Ball as the secretary, but Hepburn is lover-ly.

Noel Coward actually is in the film as a movie producer, and he does have a marvelous scene with Holden. The cast is populated with unbilled names like Marlene Dietrich, Mel Ferrer, with Sinatra singing the fake movie title song, and Fred Astaire singing for a Hepburn scene.

Why did Audrey Hepburn hate it so? It probably was fun to make, and it is fun to watch when she calls Holden a well-preserved middle-aged man, or when he compares the movies Frankenstein to My Fair Lady.

Another notable star of the ‘50s plays “the second policeman,” in the fake movie and is reminded he is not an important character. He too is delightful, though we won’t spoil it by naming him.

George Axelrod’s script is flippant, and Paris is definitely there in the background. We enjoyed it, but it falls into the category of a most guilty pleasure.

 

 

Julian Edelman’s Hairless Chipmunk

 JULIAN Julie after

BEFORE & AFTER SHAVE

While Tom Brady went on a world tour without his teammate Julian Edelman, the slot receiver created his own buzz.

Together with his own follower, Danny Amendola, the two close friends went to Mexico to learn how to wrestle. And, upon returning, won the notoriety that comes with being a nude inlay spread for ESPN’s naked athlete edition.

Posing in capes and masks may seem like child’s play, but ever since growing that mangy beard, Julie needed to compensate for something.

Now, our crack investigative skills have solved the mystery. We examined “before and after pix” of the twelve-packed short receiver in a variety of poses. We are now ready to deliver the fake news of the week.

It seems likely that Julie E and his constant donut companion Danny A have taken up the painful hobby of full body waxing.

It has paid off with an in tandem photo shoot with another Boston pipsqueak: Isaiah Thomas who bares all his tattoos in the upcoming ESPN Body Issue 2017.

Julie has spared himself the pain and agony, not of defeat, but of ink blots. Thomas, on the other shoulder and arm, has not. Both men have kept the Inkster away from their keester. Thank you, ESPN, for this salient bit of real news.

For months, Julian Edelman dropped hints that he had dropped his pantaloons for ESPN’s notorious nude issue. This year, following Gronk in 2012, five years earlier, Julie E flaunted and teased, his modus operandi in many spheres of life.

This time, he took with him another Boston superstar and admirer of Tom Brady: the chipmunk of the NBA, the effervescent Isaiah Thomas, a diminutive scoring machine of the Boston Celtics.

Both men are small for their sport, but normal in all matters not requiring mental agility and physical freakishness. Now they share the glow of healthy skin in a nude magazine spread.

It’s that glow of skin that has amused us: it was not always that way. We never forget a follicle, even if Tom Brady has had them transplanted from below his head. And now, hirsute Julie E.

 

Twin Peaks (s3 Half-Way Point)

 DATELINE:  NO Spoilers Possibletwin peaks

There is no such thing as a spoiler in Twin Peaks. We are not even sure we are still in Twin Peaks after the face of Laura Palmer emerges from the mist in the opening credits.

We have now come to the half-way point of no-return for Season 3 on the bizarre David Lynch TV series, and we can explain everything that happened and you will have no idea what we are talking about.

The episode started with Kyle McLachlan’s Doppleganger Agent D.B. Cooper in a jail break with an accomplice who promptly shoots and kills him. Then, he is beset upon by demonic spirits that apparently bring him back to life.

At this point there is a flashback to a flashpoint in the plot. We find ourselves in Desert Sands, New Mexico, as the first atomic bomb is detonated. If you think of this as a hole in the plot, you may have fallen into the trap.

We are then thrust into a five-minute Stanley Kubrick-style hallucinogenic trip inside a radioactive cloud. When we emerged, we found ourselves in a 1950s black and white horror movie with zombies murdering people.

Oh, yes, somewhere in there we found ourselves in the waiting room of an imperious theater where Lurch the Butler of the Addams Family sends a golden plasma bubble with the face of Laura Palmer back to Earth.

Back on Earth, an alien lizard with wings hatches from an egg near the site of the nuclear explosion in 1956 and enters the mouth of sleeping adolescent girl. Now we feel the Illuminati are lurking somewhere in the storyline.

Is that clear? Are you spoiled yet? Have you any idea if David Lynch has lost his lunch?

Yes, we will watch again next week, not that it matters.

Hurricane Clint Eastwood Downgraded to Breezy

DATELINE: Better to Stay Lost

breezy

In his third directorial effort, back in 1973, Clint Eastwood took up the challenge of a romantic comedy.  It probably sounded easier than he expected because he had William Holden, even aging and falling apart, as his charming, cynical leading man.

This atrocity is called Breezy, rhymes with easy, named after the hippie free spirit who haunts William Holden. It might have been more hilarious if Breezy was a teenage boy. But Clint doesn’t eat sweets.

However, the moribund script features one fantasy hippie girl who believed in free love of the era. Perhaps it was realistic back in the early 1970s in L.A., but Kay Lenz presents one of the most annoying, anachronistic versions of a promiscuous teenager we have seen in decades.

We cannot figure out why Holden’s well-to-do businessman didn’t toss this annoying and cloying girl out on her keester when she first appears to panhandle and try to con him. Are all men victims of their sex drive?

That Holden falls in love with her seems to stretch credulity for a character who never has fallen in love with any woman.

On top of all this, we are then faced with the embarrassments of May-December romance being denigrated by every other character Holden knows in the movie script. Really, Clint?

We almost hoped Holden would turn into Dirty Sex Harry and shoot the whole lot of slut hustlers. Of course, it’s not that kind of film, alas.

If the saccharine hippie girl isn’t enough to rot the script, you have an overlay of Michel Legrand music. Apparently, Clint gave himself plenty of challenges to overcome. You may drown in movie sweetness, not typical Eastwood.

Clint fans knew better than the novice director—and ran away from this clinkeroo. This was not even a good character-driven story, though you can see how Eastwood wants to develop it. The film wastes William Holden– and Eastwood too.

Many critics in hindsight think this was Clint’s most “personal” film. We doubt it. He was still learning his craft by directing in an unusual setting and genre.

Destroying the film negative might be a better challenge to undertake. Clint likely chose to ignore the movie as time passed as an experiment in directing. This movie is a freak of his oeuvre.

Depp is Really a Dope

 DATELINE: Actors & Politics

Tonto Means Dopey Depp Johnny Dope

They don’t call him Johnny Dope for nothing.

The semi-intoxicated movie star named Johnny Depp called for the assassination of President Trump at a British music festival this week. He compared himself to another actor named John Wilkes Booth.

That comparison raises Depp a few steps above his talent range.

Wilkes Booth was a noted actor of stage, known for his good looks and his explosive talent. Depp has always fallen short on both levels.

Booth, of course, assassinated President Abraham Lincoln with a group of misfits he assembled. There’s no doubt the Depp probably can muster up a group of misfits from his devotees. That’s his likely fan club.

As far as actors killing presidents is concerned, we believe Booth was a better actor, but as Depp brags: he’s a better liar than Booth. Heavens, there is no end to his talent: until now.

Threatening to kill a president you disagree with is a new low even for Hollywood liberals.

John Wilkes Booth was a great Shakespearean actor even at a young age. However, Booth was dead at 27, after a manhunt by authorities. Depp is still alive and kicking and pushing 60.  After his recent comment, nobody will be chasing him, especially film producers.

We also believe the Depp has never really tried Shakespeare, which separates the actors from the drunken liars.

The Secret Service is said to be aware of Depp’s Kathy Griffin moment. If we are lucky, the man who has played Tonto will be sent into retirement, not a moment too soon. His performance was an insult to all Native Americans.

In case you’re wondering, Tonto is Spanish for stupid. That may be the highlight of Johnny Dope’s career. Put it on his tombstone.