Membership Application Testimony

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rough draft writingIt’s been almost a year since the church that I have been helping to build up was birthed by way of an unfortunate at the church that I had been attending for ten years prior. Just now, we’re taking steps to have membership, and as I don’t count myself exempt for special treatment, I have filled out my application as well.

You might be wondering why I’m mentioning this. Well, on the back of it, it has one page with three questions pertaining to my personal testimony on how I became a Christian, and what that means and whatnot. One page, three sections with a short few lines to fill in.

Of course, as I have this storyteller’s streak in me as a writer, I looked at those brief sections and, after I got done chuckling, decided to just add an attachment of the testimony, and just get out what I have to say without fear of running out of room. Or atrocious handwriting. You get the idea. It came out to four pages. Single spaced. Standard 12-point Times New Roman font.

I’ve decided, then, to post those Testimonial Questions here on my bligity-blog, and share with everyone my answers, to not only show off my scribblins, but also give some of the more curious as to my back story as a Christian, how it came to be and where I went from there and all. That, and I needed something to post to prove I was still alive, here…you’re welcome…

1) PLEASE DESCRIBE YOUR LIFE BEFORE YOU CAME TO KNOW JESUS:
Thinking back, I guess you would say that the majority of my “Before Christ” period was rather unremarkable. I spent the first nine years of my life the son of a Navy Seabee and a Nurse, both of them having been raised by farming families. We were always traveling to wherever Uncle Sam had my father stationed at for as long as I could start remembering things. Thinking back as I write this, I have to emphasis that I was very much blessed with not only parents but the entire family on both sides being completely loving and caring. I was never abused, I never felt scared, and even when I had to be disciplined both Mom and Dad would explain why it was happening, and were always quick to forgive and such. Even after they divorced when I was 9, both refused to use me and my sister as leverage against the other one; to the contrary, I remember my mother chastising me more than once if she heard me say anything derogatory about my Father, regardless of what she was emotionally going through (I can’t even begin to fathom what that was like for her). Even the man that would become my stepfather, while having a, shall we say, old school philosophy when it came to child raising, never abused his position of parental figure…regardless of how hard headed I could be. Believe me, i would have smacked me a few times for my attitude, if you want to come right down to it.

I needed to get all of that out of the way, because I wished to highlight the fact that, for everything that transpired for three or so years before I became a Christian, I’m not blaming my family, my upbringing, the society I grew up in, and especially not the mental condition that began manifesting when I was 9. My actions, my attitudes and especially my decisions were because I chose to do them and be that way.

That said: As I mentioned, at the age of 9, I began manifesting the symptoms of an odd neurological disorder the name of which I’m not going to share, due to the pop culture media typifying it as something it’s really not, and would rather not be met with a chorus of “Oh! The swearing disease!” (if that didn’t already tip off what that is). Of course, it wasn’t properly diagnosed as such until I was 13 (I had one psychiatrist convinced I had schizophrenia at one point…that was a fun time, let me tell you); so up until then, I was experiencing sudden depression and anxiety at an age where I should have been more concerned about playing and doing other kid-like activities. Instead, I was making fast headway to being That Weird Kid that carried over into Junior High and High School. I started getting suicidal thoughts at a rather young age, and was finally checked into a psychiatric ward at a hospital in Omaha for observation and treatment when I was 12. That’s how I spent my summer vacation that year. Later that year, I was put back in after an actual suicide attempt. I would eventually go back to that ward three more times between then and my Freshman year in High School. It was like I could feel myself mentally disintegrating, and I was helpless to do anything. The nurses were starting to take bets as to how long before I was back in the ward. I wish I was making that last bit up.

So, there’s the context. 15 years old, and already been in the psychiatric ward five times in three years. Not to mention having quite the legend going around school as to that nutcase James. Let’s move on with the story, shall we…

2) PLEASE DESCRIBE HOW YOU CAME TO KNOW JESUS AND WHAT YOU NOW BELIEVE ABOUT WHO HE IS AND WHAT HE HAS DONE FOR YOU:
A couple of years ago, Pastor John asked me if I remember exactly when I became a Christian. I told him “Yes, kind of”. It was about a week or two before my Sophomore year in High School, about a week or so after my final stint in the hospital, which puts it around mid-August, 1989. I was 15. But, I’m getting ahead of myself, here…

As is part of the cliche that is Midwest rural folk, church was an active part of our lives, even if only nominally. My father was raised Methodist, and my mother was raised United Church of Christ, which I half-jokingly refer to as “Methodist Lite”. You get all the Wesleyan religion with some coffee and pastries in the basement afterwards. Maybe a potluck every other month. Those were the best. Point is, we were church goers. Every Sunday, we were there. When I hit 8th Grade, I got involved with the Pilgrim Fellowship (which is what they called the youth group there), helped out the pastor when needed, and participated in the choir and got confirmed. I knew about Jesus: He was the guy who was born in late December, then died a few months later as a grown man (he got better, though). You get the idea. The classic “I go to church and I’m a good person’ kind of setup, where my only encounter with the word “Gospel” was when I landed on the starting page of the first four books of the New Testament while flipping through in boredom during the sermon. It really did become more of an enforced obligation, come to think about it.

This is not to say that no one tried to share the Gospel with me, in whatever form. It’s just that, they were afraid to. There was a High School Bible study that was going on at the time I knew nothing about, where I was told one night the kids were asked to name the last person you would ever expect to become a Christian, and I was named almost unanimously. To say I was “weird” and a “misfit” would be like saying “Van Gogh had an interest in painting”. Being a long-time psycho ward alumni notwithstanding, I developed into quite the antisocial freak, mostly by accident. I liked hard rock and metal, I was always off by myself reading some kind of dark fantasy or science fiction novel, and I was never seen without my denim jacket with the customized band logo on the back. So, obviously I worshiped Satan. That’s rural High School in the late 1980s for you. But, the truth was, I was alone and pretty much resigned to that fate. I can understand how the thought of coming up to someone like myself at that time was fear-educing, but had an upperclassmen came to me and just said something that wasn’t derogatory…I was starved for that. Would I have been open to receiving the Gospel from them? Maybe. We’ll never know, because they never did.

The one thing that preached the Gospel to me and let me to respond to Jesus’ gift of salvation and grace? Metal. Specifically, it was a copy of an album entitled To Hell With The Devil by Stryper. You may have heard of them. I got it when I was 14, and I listened to it all the time, nearly wearing out the tape in a year. Admittedly, I did get it because it had the words “Hell” and “Devil” in the title, but this album was…different. The lyrics were not like the songs that the other bands in my collection were singing about; they were talking openly about Jesus, being “The Way”, we were “Free” to believe in Him, His victory over the devil, so forth and so on. It was the final song, though: “More Than A Man”, when I first heard Jesus referred to something other than just Jesus; they referred to Him as God. I’ve never had anyone tell me that Jesus was more than just a guy who lived long ago who said a bunch of interesting things and did a bunch of mind-blowing miracles somehow. I began thinking about that concept. Then I began thinking maybe the song was true about this. Then, months later, in that mid-August evening, late at night, I was laying in bed, thinking about how dark the previous year had been, and not seeing any light at the end of this current tunnel. So, I asked Jesus to save me. I believe the exact words were, “Jesus, save me.” That was it. No flowery speech, no reciting of a specific pre-written prayer, just a simple “Jesus, save me.” That very moment, I felt a very tangible sense of relief and release wash over me. That was it. Simple, yet genuine, and Jesus did.

As to what I now believe about who He is and what He has done for me, well…simply put, He is not only my Saviour, but also Lord. He is God, the Son of the Trinity. The more I study the Bible, the more clear I begin to see how everything in the Old Testament pointed us to understand the plan for Him to be the perfect sacrifice for our sins that we inherited from Adam’s fall. Not only that, but because He was resurrected, He broke the power of sin and death. Think about that…Jesus conquered sin and death. Tell me of anyone who has even come close to doing that. His righteousness has been imparted to me, I have been reconciled to God because of this, and I have hope in the resurrection one day, and of Jesus’ promise to return. Until then, I am his humble servant. His grace and mercy abounds.

I sincerely hope you’re still awake. Again, my apologies. If you’ve made it this far, I applaud your tenacity. Moving along…

3) PLEASE DESCRIBE HOW YOUR LIFE IS DIFFERENT NOW THAT YOU KNOW JESUS AS LORD AND SAVIOUR AND HOW YOU ARE GROWING IN YOUR FAITH, OBEDIENCE AND SERVICE FOR HIS GLORY:
The summer after I graduated High School in 1992, I went to a youth retreat in Colorado with a couple of other guys in my graduating class who have had the (dis)pleasure of knowing me in my days before I became a Christian. We got to talking about when we became Christians with each other, and after I mentioned my story, both of them said they could sense something was different with me when the tenth grade year started. This was the first time they said anything about that. Granted, it wasn’t until my Senior year in High School when I first began to actually realize and explore what truly being a Christian meant, but before that I could very much sense a difference that I couldn’t really put my finger on. It was business as usual, but there was more of a clarity, like a light switched on. After graduating High School, I believe God started putting me through the refining process, as not only did I develop a strong desire to read the Bible and study it, but there were people placed in my life that very patiently instructed me in my growth.

I wrestle with my faith continuously. I am not perfect, but it is the Holy Spirit that is constantly sanctifying me, instructing me, encouraging me, and convicting me. It’s been almost 27 years as I type this since I gave my life to Christ, and not only have the most interesting parts of my testimonies, my story have come after I became a servant of Christ, but I get the nagging feeling I’m not done here by a long shot. I still struggle with my mental condition, and while I have more than once begged God to take this away, I do believe that I’m square how Paul was with a certain thorn not being removed. His grace is sufficient. I am weak, but He is strong. That, and also there are the teens from the youth group I helped out with that have told me that they probably wouldn’t have paid attention to my preaching the Gospel during the lessons, had I not been openly candid about my condition and how it pertains to my faith. There are many other stories, too, but we’ll leave them for other times. You’re welcome.

As I said, I’m not perfect. I suppose at one time I fancied myself Mr. Super Christian, but you know what they say about pride coming before a fall. I’ve had plenty of those. All I can say is, throughout this journey, I’m not the same as I was back in my 20s. Or my 30s. Or even five years ago. The only constant has been God’s faithfulness. I am compelled to continue serving Him in whatever capacity. That’s all I can really say.

May the God of peace soon crush Satan under your feet. Cheers, all…

::END TRANSMISSION::

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Movie Review: PIRATE RADIO

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pirate radioFocus Features
2009
R

“The way I look at it, the world couldn’t survive without my comedy, and who’s going to have the moral backbone to play the Seekers when the mood is right?”
“They’ve split up.”
“I intend to celebrate the back catalogue.”
“I intend to stop you doing so.”

It’s 1966–pop music’s finest era–and a bunch of ramshackle DJs play rock & pop 24 hours a day, broadcasting from Radio Rock, an infamous pirate radio ship in the North Sea. On board arrives 18-year-old Carl, which is instantly plunged into a serious of hilarious and life-changing adventures and misadventures. His mother thought the boat would straighten him out–a spectacular mistake!

I don’t often watch non-horror movies. And I don’t always often watch non-horror movies that exist in the genre of “comedy”. And if you’re expecting some kind of wry attempt at that particular meme, I’m afraid you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Anyway, once in a while I do fancy a nice funny ha-ha movie, especially when it involves my long-time hobby as an on-air DJ enthusiast. And despite the lackluster hype blurb on the back of the DVD case, taking a gander at the list of actors staring in this flick was enough to get me to check this movie out. Bill Nighy? Nick Frost? Kenneth Branagh? Philip Seymour Hoffman? I figured I was in for a treat.

So, I should really point out to those who weren’t aware (or cared), that Pirate Radio was the name of the movie that was given to the American release. This being a British film, over across the pond (as they say), the movie is known as The Boat That Rocked. I’m unsure as to which one would be the optimum title overall. I mean, the original title has that subtle British quality of pun. But, the American title kind of plays off of our current obsession with pirates. Eh, pointless bunny trail, this. Let’s get to the movie, shall we?

Set in the height of the Swingin’ Sixties, the story mostly takes place on a ship that’s anchored in the North Sea, a ship that broadcasts all the rock n’ roll you can handle on a 24-7-365 basis. You see, the BBC doesn’t believe that the morally corruptive devil music that is rock and/or roll should be officially broadcast over their airwaves, so this nautical pirate radio popped up to fill that much needed void in everyone’s lives. It is on this derelict barge that young Carl was sent to after being expelled from school, as his godfather runs the station. One has to wonder what kind of rehabilitation his mother was expecting a boat full of quirky rock n’ roll dee jays with a rebellious streak to give, but needless to say it doesn’t take long for the staff to take Carl under their unorthodox tutelage, showing him how to stick it to The Man with rock n’ roll…and have lots of fun doing it. Less wackiness ensues, as does hijinks on the high seas, I guess.

In execution, Pirate Radio (or The Boat That Rocked, depending on what country you’re reading this at) seems less of a narrative and more of a series of situations thrown together that don’t really advance a story in the traditional movie watchin’ sense. This seems more a collection of snippets from a failed situation comedy thrown together, with some footage of a bit of a plot filmed to give the movie more of a narrative.

It’s not to say Pirate Radio is a bad movie. It’s highly entertaining, with some fantastic performances from the mostly-British cast working off each other wonderfully. The movie got quite a few chuckles, a handful of chortles, and a couple of outright laughs. The soundtrack is fantastic, featuring a lot of deeper cuts from the era. It does drag a bit at certain areas, though, and the sub-plot (for lack of better word) of the government minister’s various attempts to shut the boat down seemed more shoehorned in as an afterthought.

Overall, Pirate Radio was an entertaining, if disjointed, period comedy. It’s worth a rental look, at the very least.

Movie Review: GODZILLA (1998)

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godzilla 1998TriStar/Columbia/Sony
1998
PG-13

“That’s a lot of fish.”

Yeah, let’s just go ahead and get this long-standing regret of the past out of the way. It’s been ignored by your Uncle NecRo for long enough: it’s time to finally get the review of 1998’s Godzilla out of the way. It’s been festering for so very, very long, really.

Yes, nearly twenty years after the fact, we can look back at this as the poo emoji it is. But, I swear to all reading this, for the months leading up to the release, the prospect of a modern American take on one of the most iconic monsters in cinema history was just bloody exciting. Keep in mind, for those of you too young to remember, the mid-to-late 1990s, in terms of Summer Blockbusters, were kind of a dark time. But, this Godzilla had a couple of things going for it: Model CG effects, and Roland Emmerich–still hot off their success of Independence Day–handling things.

I remember sitting in the theater one evening, and the first teaser trailer came on. It just featured the foot, crushing a T-Rex display. But, that was all that was needed for me to get all sorts of fanboy giddy. Then, I saw the fisherman teaser trailer, and that pretty much got me starting a countdown to whenever that movie was going to hit theaters. And when it did, I went with a bunch of friends on opening night, Blue Oyster Cult’s “Godzilla” blaring from my car’s speakers for some cheesy build-up goodness, and settled in with expectations and excitement high.

I’ll spare you all the end results. Point is, it wasn’t pretty. To say I was disappointed would be a massive understatement. This was not Godzilla. A giant monster movie, yes. But Godzilla, it was not. And here is why:

While going through the standard “Dinosaurs are COOOOOL!” phase as a grade school-er, my all-time favorite dinosaur wasn’t the standard T-Rex, or Brontosaurus (which was still a thing back then, for any aspiring pedantic pseudo-paleontologist out there…and sorry about the arbitrary alliteration); my prehistoric boy was the Allosaurus. I don’t know why this smaller version of the T-Rex appealed to me more (forever cementing me as the “weird one” in grade school and beyond), but it just did. And the point of bringing up this seemingly unrelated childhood flashback is this: The 1998 Godzilla looked like an over-grown Allosaurus with a severe underbite, and not the classic Japanese icon that we know and love. This iteration of “Godzilla” was less Science Run Amok Metaphor and more Force Of Nature Spectacle; here, instead of being a monstrosity that we helped to inadvertently create biting us in the collective butts, this is a prehistoric iguana wanting to lay its eggs in Manhattan.

And that’s the major issue with this 1998 Godzilla: this isn’t so much a Godzilla movie, as it is a loose remake of a movie called The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms. Seriously, the plot to Godzilla ’98 is the same as that 1953 movie (which had the great Ray Harryhausen doing the stop motion effects).

So, anyway, if you happen to be one of the blessed ones who have not watched this iteration of Godzilla, here’s the synopsis: A giant mutated lizard beast arrives in New York and stomps around and does some major property damage, and then manages to allude the US military by hiding really good, somehow. So then they bring in Ferris Bueller, who’s an expert in radiation effects on animals and stuff, to bumble around awkwardly and say things like “that’s a lot of fish”, while his television journalist ex-girlfriends bums along with him and the French Secret Service to get in the way a lot. They find out that Godzilla is pregnant, because he/she can reproduce asexually I guess, and then stumble upon a bunch of Godzilla eggs, finally killing Godzilla, but then the eggs hatch and next thing you know we’re ripping off the Raptor chase scenes from Jurassic Park, and…by this time you’ve been struggling to pay attention through the many fake endings they make you sit through, and it just goes on and on and on and then ends on sequel-bait. That was the true terror, here.

Godzilla 1998 is an amazingly bad movie. It’s such a mishandling of a pop culture icon that I’m surprised Japan hadn’t declared war on us for doing this to their star monster. There are some cool parts to this, mind you; the whole rampage through New York City in the first reel was awesome, as was the part when Godzilla whipped out some classic atomic breath. But, that was all spent up early on in the movie. After that part, Godzilla goes away for most of rest, while we’re treated to a bunch of very uninteresting characters interacting while trying to find the main reason we spent money to watch this movie to begin with. And I’m well aware that, with the other Godzilla movies in the stable, the title character doesn’t really show up until the later part of the movies…but that’s the thing. Here, the big destruction part that everyone waits to see is gotten out of the way early on, so there really no reason to sit through the rest. Even by the time you get to the actual end of the movie, you’re feeling more than just a bit ripped off by the experience.

The ironic thing is, the obligatory Saturday morning cartoon series that spun off from this atrocity was actually a bazillion times better. Mainly because it seemed to understand the spirit of the original Japanese movies better than Roland Emmerich ever did. I would urge you to never watch this Godzilla…instead, check out the short-lived but ultimately superior cartoon version that takes up where the movie left off.

There. It’s been reviewed. Now to take a long shower to wash the ick off of me for having to revisit this…

Movie Review: BETHANY

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bethanyUncork’d Entertainment
2017
NR

“You’re not just some stinky zombie, honey. You’re my stinky zombie.”

After Claire’s mother dies, she and her husband move back to her childhood home only to have the abusive and traumatic memories of her mother come back and bring unrest to the house. Unfortunately, Claire soon finds herself in a fog of past and present when her imaginary friend from childhood begins haunting her memories. What is this terrifying thing that is trying to reach out to her, and what does it want?

I first heard about the movie Bethany by way of an article on Cracked.com a few months ago. I can’t remember which article it was, as I usually read them first thing in the morning at work while waiting for my shift to start. I do recall, though, the author making a reference to his “friend’s movie” called “Bethany” which was the “best horror movie this year”, or something to that effect. I can’t be bothered to find the actual article for the sake of “accuracy”, so that’s why I’m using “quote marks” on this part. Sorry, not “sorry”. See what I did there? Anyway, because of that mention, I looked into this movie, and when it became available on VOD, I gave it a watch.

As to the claim of Bethany being the “best horror movie” going…no. Maybe, if I’m feeling generous, “watchable”. Certainly not “memorable”, at least not because it was a “good movie”. Let’s get into that, shall we?

So, there’s a lady named Claire, whose mother had just died and willed her the home she grew up in. So, she and her husband (who seems to be the grown-up bully kid in some Christmas movie I’m told I need to see otherwise I’ll die, or something) move in to begin a fresh new chapter in their lives. Only, almost the very moment they do so, Claire begins to experience all sorts of creepy things, things that no one else seems to notice. Then the flashbacks begin, and we see that her mother took her parenting advice from the movie Mommy Dearest. Also, there seems to be a ghoulishly masked apparition of a girl showing up here and there to add to the general wackiness, a girl that Claire seems to recall as being an imaginary friend growing up. Is the haunting real? Or is Claire going slowly insane? And why is Tom Green totally unrecognizable and playing against type?

On the surface, Bethany has some good ideas, and does manage to get a decent cast together (I was totally serious about funnyman Tom Green playing it completely straight here, which completely makes me rethink my opinion of the guy as an actor…while you might say Shannon Doherty is playing to type), and there were moments that, had I not seen them coming, could have been some very effective scares.

And that’s pretty much what regulates Bethany into the realm of “meh”: it’s a bit clunky, has some leaps of logic going on, and while one or two times I found a scene squeamish to watch (especially at the end, that involves a mask and a sewing needle), in the end you get the feeling you just watched a misfired attempt at making a stylistic remake of The People Under The Stairs.

Best Horror Movie of the Year? Er, no. Imaginatively unique? Again, no. Maybe if you’ve never seen a horror movie made before 2005. I don’t know how, but people like this exist. I give Bethany points for trying something different, beyond the general “haunting of…” style. But, the execution itself left something to be desired. Worth at least a watch, at least.

Music Review: RESURRECTION BAND – Rainbow’s End

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resurrection band - rainbow's endRESURRECTION BAND
Rainbow’s End
Star Song
1979

Resurrection Band’s second release continued on in the heavy rock n’ roll style that they went with on their first studio release, which may have ended up being both a blessing and a curse simultaneously. For whatever reason, the label that took a chance on them on their first album, decided to drop the band after this release. I can’t really find any official reason why they were dropped; maybe it was a change of personnel at Star Song Records that decided they didn’t want such a radical sounding rock band on the label (wild-eyed speculation, as they would release the third Petra album on that label the same year…though it could be argued that Petra was less a “rock” band at that time, but I digress), maybe they got too many complaints from the normals because of the genuine bluesy hard rock style that evoked comparisons to Led Zeppelin, Jefferson Airplane, and Canned Heat. Maybe Star Song wasn’t as satisfied with the quality of the album as the band was. I don’t know. Again, this is wild-eyed speculation on my part. Point is, after releasing Rainbow’s End, the band suddenly found themselves looking for another label.

As for the album itself, Rainbow’s End turned out to be a good, solid follow-up to their debut release. If there was a question of quality, maybe it has something to do with the kind-of thin production on this, but keep in mind Rainbow’s End was recorded on a small Christian label using late seventies technology. But, trust me when I say that the band makes up for that minor shortcoming in some very gritty, very passionate hard rock n’ roll.

Ten tracks are contained overall, with eight of them being some very tasty guitar-driven classic hard rock (“Midnight Son”, “Strongman”, “Afrikaans”, “Skyline”, “Rainbow’s End”, “Sacrifice Of Love”, “The Wolfsong” and “Everytime It Rains”) and two ballads (“Paint A Picture” and “Concert For A Queen”), the music is, without a doubt, a genuine rock album played by musicians that know what they’re doing, injecting an authenticity into a sea of superficial falseness. This is also the beginning of the band injecting politically-motivated lyrics, challenging the Christian listeners to examine our motivations as believers and putting the “love your neighbor” thing into practice. It’s probably what contributed to their sudden loss of a record label.

So, overall, as a follow-up to arguably one of the classic releases in Christian rock, Rainbow’s End really did take it to the next level with both the music and the message, daring to go beyond the standard Happy Christian Fun lyrics and delving into some rather heavy and dark themes. This was re-released on the band’s own Grrr Records in 2007, but I would recommend finding this on vinyl, as I would wager it would sound fantastic in its original format. Gads, I sound all hipster-y now.

Movie Review: MANOS: The Hands Of Fate

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manos the hands of fateMill Creek Entertainment
1966
NR

“I am Torgo. I take care of the place while the Master is away.”

Everything that can go wrong does on a young couple’s terrifying vacation. Lost and unable to find an inn, they stop at the door of a mysterious house. They are told by the disfigured Togar that the Master does not like visitors, but with no other shelter in sight they decide to spend the night. Their presence ignites the fury of a Devil cult that preys upon their innocence. The family is forced to suffer interminable psychotic rituals. Unrest with the cult provides a chance for escape, but the Master will not free them so easily.

When talking about bad movies, there are certain ones that have achieved legendary status due to just how bad they are. Plan 9 From Outer Space. Trolls 2. Birdemic. The Room. These titles and more, so many have heard about, but few have been brave enough to venture into watching them, for fear of losing whatever tenacious grasp on their sanity they have. I have seen many, but one that I have put off for a very long time was one of the worst ones ever made, the subject of this particular review: Manos, The Hands Of Fate. But finally, my inner Movie-Watchin’ Masochist got me to watch the copy that came in one of those 50 Horror Movies for $20 packs. The horror. The horror. And not the good kind, either.

What we got here is essentially a movie that was made on a bet by a dentist claiming that making a movie was easy enough that even he could do it. So he did. With a local theater troupe, a hand-wound 16mm camera that could only take 32 seconds of footage at a time, and a budget that would make a shoestring seem like blockbuster money.

Manos: The Hands Of Fate tells the tale of a couple and their whiny young daughter and equally annoying doggie taking a drive in their convertible out in the desert, on their way to a vacation getaway in the middle of nowhere. Obviously, they get lost, and after getting worthless directions from a couple making out, and after driving and driving and driving and driving through many a cut scene, they end up even more lost, with twilight coming upon them, before stopping at a building they figure they could spend the night at. They’re met by an odd gentleman with an odd walk and an even more odd way of talking, telling them that his master doesn’t want them to stay there. But then he lets them stay there. Then the dog disappears, then the young daughter, then the curator of the building begins to creep on the wife, stuff happens, and then the aforementioned Master awakens, along with his wives, who then argue about letting the wife stay and be part of the cult’s harem or not. I wish I could say “wackiness ensues”, but I would be lying.

So, this movie was made, and was immediately lost to the void of cheep independent Z-Movie Hell, as nature intended. But, decades later, because humanity is being punished for our sins, the movie was rediscovered and given a mutated new life of Cult Status, due to its So-Bad-It’s-Good nature. I call it the Ed Wood Effect.

Manos: The Hands Of Fate has the magical effect of bending time and space, making you think that the running time is hours upon hours longer than it really is, and your perception of reality after watching it will make you stare into the void for hours afterwards, trying to process what exactly it was you just watched. Watching Manos: The Hands Of Fate made me want to re-watch The Room for something fast-paced and exciting. I hope you’re getting the point, here. Manos: The Hands Of Fate has the excitement of watching your Great Aunt’s old vacation videos. Even the MST3K working barely made it watchable. I happened to watch it without the help of the boys in the Satellite of Love. Watch at your own peril.

Movie Review: WONDER WOMAN

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wonder womanWarner Bros.
PG-13
2017

“I used to want to save the world, this beautiful place. But the closer you get, the more you see the great darkness within. I learned this the hard way, a long, long time ago.”

Before she was Wonder Woman, she was Diana, princess of the Amazons, trained to be an unconquerable warrior. Raised on a sheltered island paradise, Diana meets an American pilot who tells her about the massive conflict that’s raging in the outside world. Convinced that she can stop the threat, Diana leaves her home for the first time. Fighting alongside men in a war to end all wars, she finally discovers her full powers and true destiny.

So, by now, if you’re reading this, you fall in one of three categories: 1) you’ve already watched Wonder Woman (perhaps multiple times), 2) you have yet to watch Wonder Woman, as you’re still iffy about the possible quality due to the track record of the previous DC movies in the past couple of years, or 3) you’re trying to find something to be angry about to satisfy your inner sense of political self-righteousness. I wish I could say I was joking about that last part.

Anyway, Wonder Woman. Officially the fourth movie in DC’s Extended Universe, this one had the stigma of needing to be not as bad as the previous films turned out to be. I say this as the general overall perception of the previous films; you might recall that I ended up liking Man Of Steel a bit more than most of all fandom did. Batman v. Superman was a hot mess, while Suicide Squad was also a hot mess, but a far more entertaining hot mess. As such, by the time Wonder Woman rolled around, my expectations were rather low. All the movie had to do was not suck obnoxiously, and it would be the best DCEU movie of the bunch. And on that basic front, Wonder Woman succeeded. Boy howdy, did it succeed.

After a prologue scene where Diana Prince receives a special package from some guy named Bruce Wayne, we’re taken back to the Greek island of Themyscira, the home of warrior women called the Amazons, at a time when she was a precocious little tot who wanted so badly to be a warrior like everyone else, but her mother–Queen Hippolyta–would rather she pursue a more mundane existence, for her own good. Diana’s aunt, however, disagrees with the sentiment, and begins training the young girl in secret. In time, though, they are found out, which leads to…Diana getting even more training. And after a surprise hint as to Diana’s true nature, in comes the first male to visit Themyscira since ever, with WWI pilot Steve Trevor crashing into the coast. After Diana rescues him, the Germans soon invade, causing havoc and, after interrogating Trevor, Diana decides that Aries, the god of War is behind this World War (under the guise of German General Ludendorff), and sets off to kill him to bring peace to mankind. After a brief stint in London, Diana, Trevor and a motley crew travel to the front lines, where Diana wastes no time in invading No Man’s Land, takes out a machine gun nest, whups a bunch of Germans into submission, and punches a tower (the tower loses) to liberate a small Belgium village from the occupation it was under. However, General Ludendorff decides to wipe out the village the next day with a big ol’ Mustard Gas bomb, which pisses Diana off even further, and she goes off and manages to kill Ludendorff…only Ludendorff isn’t Aries. In a twist that everyone saw coming miles away, the real Aries shows up, he tries to explain that mankind isn’t under his spell, that mankind is capable of all sorts of atrocities by themselves, which clashes with Diana’s sense of altruism, which leads to a big fight with lots of damage and ‘splosions and stuff. Meanwhile, Trevor sacrifices himself to save London from being hit with a cargo plane full of Mustard Gas, Aries is defeated, and we flash back to current times where Diana decides that the power of love will blah blah blah, something-something I’m Wonder Woman now. The end.

It took them a few times in this shared universe of theirs, but DC has finally stumbled upon the formula for making a superhero movie feel like a genuine superhero movie. The tone and feel really brings back the sense of (no pun intended) wonder that Richard Donner’s Superman The Movie did, where you’re watching and manage to go beyond seeing some actor dressed as Wonder Woman, and believing it really is Wonder Woman. With maybe the exception of the CGI heavy boss fight at the end (yeah, it did feel like a video game cut scene), the two-and-a-half run time didn’t seem that long at all.

I went into Wonder Woman expecting it to fail, and wound up suddenly having hope for the other DC movies coming up after this. We’ll see. In the meantime, if you still haven’t seen Wonder Woman, go do so now while it’s still in theaters. Assuming you’re reading this while it still is.

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