Blogmo

It took thirty years and eleven films, but Paramount Pictures finally managed to do the impossible: name a Star Trek film “Star Trek”. They also kept William Shatner from overacting by casting someone else.

Scheduled for release on May 9, 2009, “Star Trek: No Colons Here” stars Chris Pine as Baby Kirk, Zachary Quinto as Baby Spock, and other young doppelgangers as the Baby Crew. Because I’m a lazy researcher, I don’t know the plot yet, although the film clearly returns to the franchise’s roots of spaceships firing white hot beams at other spaceships flown by people in their pajamas. I can’t wait.

Looks like I got “blog tagged” by Ryan Byrd, who has noted the dusty state of things around here. Super! My only response to my friend is: let’s see those AK-47 pics! Tag, you’re re-it.

What do you get when you watch all six Rocky movies in the span of three days? The same thing I got: that blasted theme song running on repeat through your head for many days. “Gonna fly now… “ Good thing it’s an inspiring tune.

I saw the original Rocky only once before, years upon years ago as a child. Through the years, my kid’s brain only kept vague images of an incoherent boxer mumbling to people while downing glasses of raw eggs in his filthy apartment. He practiced for fights by hitting meat in a giant freezer. He fell in love with an ugly girl who never talked. I thought it a colossal bore.

How wrong I was. No doubt Rocky is slow by today’s frenetic, attention-span-of-a-YouTuber standards. Yet the tale still totes a powerful punch, perhaps more now than ever. Rocky — both film and character — is all love, heart, and courage. Yes, the story of the underdog has been done to death, long before Rocky and often since, but rarely has it been done better.

The magic is only truly recaptured in the sixth and final film, Rocky Balboa. It manages to deliver its premise in a sweet, surprisingly believable way, never dispensed too fast, but rarely boring either (unless you’re squarely ensconced in the sound bite generation). The film is not perfect, but enjoyable, reminding us in terms familiar, yet paradoxically fresh, to always have courage.

P.S. – If you want to subject yourself to the four filler sequels, that’s your affair. Rockies II and III are passable, while IV and V just blow.

The 1st annual visit by Bickmo to the 7th Annual Gangrene Comedy Short Film Festival was full of surprises, the chief surprise being what a pain in the patootie this festival was to find. My buddies and I cruised around the darkened serpentine streets of Layton, Utah until we were quite late for the showing. I punched Ben. After driving the wrong way towards the armed U.S. Air Force base gate, a trip to the Maverick service station for directions, and haggling over ticket prices at the door, we finally sat ourselves down for some FUNNY MOVIES.

Except most were not all that funny. The school film spoof “Weird Ribs Are Swell” made for some nice chuckles, but it was soon over. We watched a cartoonish man guiding a team of elf hunters (you read that correctly) in the woeful “Great White Hunter”. An unfortunate blight entitled “The Comedian Next Door” wins the not-so-coveted Bickmo “Geh” Award. The titular character — I forget his name — is an aspiring stand-up comedian desperate for an audience, cracking awful jokes rapidfire to the neighbors and a skeleton sitting at the kitchen table. His unfunniness was the point, of course, but unfunniness needs to be, well, funny to work, and his was not. (The guy reeled off the occassional good one-liner, though, especially one about the Karen Carpenter diet.) The film could have benefitted from one more rewrite. Now, I realize we missed nearly an hour’s worth of entries, so our sampling was limited. With a fifteen minute time limit imposed on each entry, at least four films were shown before we arrived. Maybe some were funnier. I hope so.

Happily, the second session made the night worth our effort. The well done, though over-long, mockumentary “Blood-o-ween” had me busting a gut, with it’s lampooning of a group embroiled in the creative process, plus its dead-on (ha!) parody of the minor conflicts documentaries play up to create compelling storylines. The Neill character stole the show with his understated antagonism and disturbing mustache. The night’s honors, however, go to the wickedly funny “Devon’s Journal”, a disturbing and dark look into the macabre mind of a murderous little boy. The kid was like Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, except this Calvin plays “operation” on the neighbor’s chihuahua with a butcher knife. Whoa.

So overall, I rate the evening a success, pulled from the fire by two horror comedies. Go figure. Thanks to M for the invitation — keep on dancing, Miss Puffy Vest!

**Line of the Night**

Cowboy Professor: Any questions?
Cowboy Student: Is it okay to sleep with two girls at once if they’re both Biology majors?