Help get us one step closer to publication!
Here’s how:
*Wait for ZOMBIE OF THE MONTH to hit store shelves near you!
Thanks in advance,
-Don and Erick
Immediately following a weekend in which infamously atrocious film director Uwe Boll’s latest effort, entitled In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale took a blindfolded nose-dive into box office oblivion, the wayward helmer (see? I’m fluent in Variety-speek, too!) has vowed to never direct a big-budget movie ever again, and return to his shoestring-indy/B-movie roots.
Dungeon Siege marks Boll’s fourth consecutive domestic disaster (following House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, and BloodRayne – all video game adaptations, ALL on imdb’s Bottom 100 List of All Time), and is arguably his most spectacularly impressive flop to date, considering that the film had a $70 million budget, and only managed to gross $3 million its opening weekend. Woof.
Now, you might be asking yourself “Who would ever throw 70 million bucks this guy’s way, given his unholy track record?!” (Although you’re probably not asking yourself anything, as you’re most likely mindlessly scanning this page between your on-the-clock porn binges.) Thus far, Uwe Boll has managed to get his films made by utilizing German tax shelter funds, in which any investor essentially gets to write off 100% of their investment as a tax deduction. The German government started the program as an incentive to stimulate the growth of German cinema, and this is the end result. Make of it what you will.
Despite what you might think, I’m not trying to rake this poor sap over the coals. I’ll leave that to the legions of print, and internet critics around the world, and dedicated institutions such as bollbashers.com, and stopuweboll.org (we love that one – it sound so official), because they’re doing a decidedly good job of it already. But here’s the catch: when it comes to his critics, Boll actually fights back… literally. In June of 2006, Boll put out an open, “put up or shut up” challenge to any critic that had ever written at least two “extremely negative reviews” about any of his films. By September ‘06, the call was answered, and goldenpalace.com sponsored a series of back-to-back, 10-round boxing matches between Boll (who is a former amateur boxer, and apparently no slouch in the weight room) and his nerdarifically-anemic, bespectacled, keyboard-wielding firebreathers, in which Boll proceeded to beat the living ass out of all of them. Oh, sweet, sweet vengeance.
Although Boll’s retreat from the realm of mainstream moviemaking will surely be interpreted as yet another defeat by most industryites (as if they’re opinion of him could get any lower), the move is sure to not stop him from doing what he does best. Not only is Boll unapologetic about the body of cinema that he’s bestowed upon the world, but he continues to be an outspoken advocate about the wonders of the moving picture (and quite an eloquent one at that – the man has a doctorate in literature for f*ck’s sake!), both in verbal interviews, as well as in more scholarly books (of which he has authored several).
Most humans who are at all familiar with Boll’s resume haven’t hesitated to label the man as this century’s (or, this millenium’s) Ed Wood, and they have, by and large, used the term in a pejorative sense. However, this humble blogger recognizes a diamond-in-the-rough when he sees it, and specializes at being able to take things at face-value (hence, my opinion that Poutlrygeist provides as much philosophical insight (not to mention way more entertainment value!) as Crimes and Misdemeanors) . In recent years, Uwe Boll has missed his calling, that’s all. He should return to cranking out schlock-flicks, like Wood, and the legendary Lloyd Kaufman, who created a straight-to-video exploitation-flick empire in Troma Films (see: The Toxic Avenger). He could probably leverage his infamy as a marketing tool for establishing himself as the greatest worst director of all time, and create a huge cult following. Hell, I’ll sign up. For a sign of Boll’s low-budget brilliance, simply seek out the poster for his recent film, Postal, in which an intriguing-looking young fellow seems to have the business-end of an assault rifle crammed up a cat’s ass. Genius.
Having already said more than our two cents, one more thing: Not until the day we see Boll dressing in drag and directing porn flicks will his Wood-amorphosis be complete. Needless to say, we’re looking forward to that day. But we don’t see Johnny Depp starring in a biopic about him any time soon.
He told us to take our vitamins and say our prayers. Apparently, we did. Now, we’re blessed with roid rage, man-breasts, backne, shriveled scrotums, federal investigations, and child-onset heart conditions. However, we’re also blessed with the second-coming of one of the greatest television franchises of the past twenty years – American Gladiators, hosted by the O.H. (that’s Original Hulkamaniac) himself, Hulk Hogan.
“Gladiator-mania is gonna be runnin’ wild, brother!”
-Hogan, at NBC’s Burbank, CA offices, October, 2007
Already announced on infinitely more reputable news outlets is that Terry Bollea (aka Terry Boulder, aka Super Destroyer, aka Sterling Golden, aka Ichiban, aka Thunderlips, aka Rip, aka Shep Ramsay, aka Dave Dragon, aka Randolph J. ‘Hurricane’ Spencer) has signed on to host NBC’s 2008 reincarnation of the early to mid-90’s boob tube staple. While the show will still headline competently-athletic, weekend warrior-type Joes, and has-been/never-were professional athletes (see: frighteningly overgrown Abercrombie models) with soft-core porn star-worthy nicknames (Thank goodness!), it is said that the new show will feature “water skills, special effects, and high-tech stunts”.
I don’t know about you, but this kind of talk makes me very concerned. Someone get Joe Rogen’s agent on the phone, and make sure he’s booked solid with UFC duties and stand-up obligations, because frankly, this has testicle-consumption written all over it. They better not be sullying my beloved, innocent Gladiators. They better not be ruining the show that needed little else than weakly-propelled tennis balls to become a global phenomenon.
I’m not joking, Mr. and Mrs. John and Jane Q Producer; bust open the locks to the prop warehouse, cart out Assault and The Eliminator as-is (you don’t even need to dust them off!), squeeze the now-over the hill Danny Lee Clark into some Red, White, and Blue, figure-control spandex, round up the rest of the has-been has-been athletes (no disrespect to Nitro), and start shooting this thing. It’s a can’t miss.
With the wrestling icon/reality show star/recent divorcee/future defendant in a potentially devastating civil suit at the helm, Hogan is making sure not to pass up a good (and insanely lucrative) opportunity twice (he was once offered to be the face of what would come to be known as the ‘George Foreman’ Grill), and he might wind up needing this money.
If I may, however, make one humble suggestion: that is, to increase the danger factor of the show, Battle Dome-style (namely, in the Jake Fury/gruesomely disgusting ankle injury sort of way). Awe hell – who am I kidding?! All I really want is for them to shoot a live-action version of Smash TV. They don’t even have to call it American Gladiators.
Whatever the case, this show’s gotta be better than Ryan Seacrest’s Gladiators 2000.
And at least the Hulk Hogan Ultimate Grill turned out to be just as successful as the George Foreman Grill, right?
Sorry, I just can’t help myself.
