The Robeast Rollie Diane Lane movie review - Descending Angel

The Ro-Beastress is out of town which means it's time to sneak Diane Lane movies up to the top of the Netflix queue. Following my bizarre obsession with seeing every Diane Lane movie in existence, I have today been led to Descending Angel.

Oh yeah, SPOILER ALERT (as if you'll ever see this film).

Descending Angel is not part of the Hollywood Hooker Angel franchise (Angel, Avenging Angel, Angel III: The Final Chapter, Angel 4: Just Kidding About the Final Chapter Business) but bringing it up does allow me the chance to say "angel" 7 times in one sentence--a BaTR record! I'll be honest, any time I see the word "angel" with a lower case "A," it looks misspelled. I don't feel the same way about "angle." In fact, when I see "Angle" with a capital "A," that looks misspelled. Funk dat!

Yeah so Descending Angel is like Meet the Parents but instead of Ben Stiller finding out his soon-to-be father-in-law Robert De Niro is an ex-CIA agent, it's Eric Roberts finding out his soon-to-be father-in-law George C. Scott is an ex-Nazi. Foreshadowing, an important element in successful screenwriting, is used liberally in the first half hour of the film. Another fundamental building block of clever cinematic storytelling, showing Diane Lane's boobs, is deployed within the first minute. I'm not too far into the movie yet, but I'm pretty sure I know what's going to happen. I just hope Diane Lane doesn't get killed in the inevitable Man-vs.-Man's Girlfriend's Father showdown.

Technically speaking, I've seen way worse Diane Lane films. The one about chess with Christopher Lambert (I can't believe she married that douche IRL) was fucking terrible and I think the entire audio track was dubbed. I feel like there was a Baldwin in that one too. Eric Roberts at least has some charisma, though he's always seemed like an overactor to me (yes, even in Best of the Best). The version of Descending Angel that I've rented is not widescreen (which bugs the hell out of me) and the film quality is a little cruddy but at least the movie was made with no genetically engineered ingredients. Oh wait, that's my Bearitos all natural unsalted tortilla chips made with organic yellow corn.

There's a line of dialogue delivered by a snotty bookstore clerk that is funny. "Uh, excuse me, we'd appreciate it if you left the books with the covers facing out!" he says in a huff as Eric Roberts carelessly rushes out of the store. The line really serves no purpose in plot or character development, so I feel like it was thrown in with the intention of being funny, but it wasn't executed in a particularly funny way. I think that made it funny to me! So does that make the line unintentionally funny, unintentionally unintentionally funny, or unintentionally intentionally funny? I defer for an official Semanticman ruling.

Wait, hold on... saxophones! And you know what saxophones mean, right? Nipple discontinuity, apparently. I guess you could still get away with that gross negligence in 1990. That decade also marked the unfortunate demise of pivotal microfiche revelation scenes, but behold, one is presented here in all its glory. It's just not very dramatic these days when characters discover things on the internets (unless it's Diane Lane tracking a cyberpsychokiller in Untraceable, which I will pretend is thrilling when it floats to the top of my queue).

I admit that there were two camera shots that I liked a lot (that didn't even involve boobs), but all in all, Descending Angel is pretty corny, predictable, and a total rip off of Meet the Parents ten years in advance. This is basically Eric Roberts' stab at Sleeping With the Enemy (one year in advance).

Speaking of sleeping... the 3rd act. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The 3rd act features running! And pushing! And a soundtrack! And a gun! And...

Yeah, I fucking called it an hour ago. Diane Lane dead.

Wait, saxophones again? Uh, you guys are doing it wrong.

Slow News Day

The commute to work today was mostly uneventful. No traffic, no pile-ups, no drawbridges, no hoods flying off of my car (yeah true story). About a mile away from work though, the bizarre shit started hitting the wacky fan.

As I eased onto Rt. 80, I saw a oddly-shaped vehicle ahead of me. It was like a cube truck, but a little taller. I noticed some stickers of birds on it and immediately became jealous, for I am still a few eclectic stickers short of making it all the way across my bumper. The bird would have fit in nicely next to Torrential Downpour's two headed dinosaur.

I pulled up a little closer and saw not one, but six giant bird stickers. And then the big reveal: RACING PIGEONS. Racing Pigeons? WTMFFWT? I would've taken a picture with my cell phone, but that's like illegal and stuff and I only advocate law-abiding activities here on BaTR like Wikipedia Vandalism. (FYI, I was at a red light when I took the picture of the MATTRES SPICALE sign). I kept the Racing Pigeons in my thoughts as I pulled into the parking complex, knowing that I was going to march directly to the aforementioned internetionary once I got to my desk and waited the exciting twenty minutes that it takes to boot up my fucking PC in the morning. Yes, I'm still using a Commodore 64.

Load "*",8,1
Ready
Run

(Side note-Do you remember the good old days when the SHIFT key didn't toggle between a letter's upper and lower case?)

Before I got out of the parking lot, I saw yet another sign of the impending apocalypse--a Pennsylvania license plate that had a picture of a tiger on it and the phrase "Save Wild Animals." Did I miss something? Are there tigers roaming free in the jungles of Pennsylvania? If so, I am pleased that these big cats and other assorted wild animals have yet to swim cross the Delaware River. Unfortunately there is no toll to cross the Pennsie bridges to Jersey, so there would be nothing to stop them. The burbs would turn into that movie Savage Harvest, an idea that scared the shit out of me as a youngster.


Ok, smarty pantses. Yes, I know that the only tiger in Pennsylvania is the one at the Philadelphia Zoo. I've seen it in person (and I saw it again in Rocky 2 on Saturday when Rocky is proposing to Adrian "I was wonderin' if you wouldn't mind marryin' me very much?"). In fact, I used to have a hat with the Philly Zoo tiger on it back in the day. But Pennsylvania, let's not pretend that you are The Tiger State.

And while we're at, I am again calling out Ohio, the so-called "Birthplace of Aviation." Remove this claim from your license plates or I will start vandalizing the Wikipedia pages of the Wrong Brothers.

Ok, back to pigeons. Apparently, Pigeon racing has been around for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Basically, pigeons are driven far away from their home base and tracked to see how quickly they return. It's a strange sport, though I believe I have more respect for it than for Horse Racing. While it still seems like these animals are being brainwashed for human amusement, they're at least not in danger of being seriously injured or euthanized. They would just get lost, and possibly homesick. Due to the great distances the birds travel this is hardly a spectator sport, so seeing the Pigeon Wagon on Rt. 80 is probably as close I'd ever get to witnessing the competition. Once place you'll certainly never witness this Pigeon Racing phenomenon: Chicago. It's the only city in the US where it's illegal to race and/or feed pigeons.

All right, I gotta go kill a baby tiger and feed it to a pigeon in Chicago, and blame it all on descendants of the Wright Brothers, inevitably starting a war between Illinois, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. Here tiger, tiger....

A celebrity death that I did not cause.

Bozo The Clown - RIP

I had planned to write a Bozo the Clown tribute today because I recently caught a snippet about Bozo the Clown dying. What I didn't realize is that there are a Bazillion Bozo the Clowns here to amuse you on Planet Erff.

The skeptic in me is beginning to question if the same is true about Santa Claus but that's a different story.

The one that died 20 days ago, Larry Harmon, was perhaps the most pivotal Bozo (PS - Pivotal Bozo should be a band name), but truth be told, I never even saw him don the red nose. Harmon was an actor hired by Capitol Records to appear as Bozo at promotional appearances in the 50's and eventually bought the rights to the Bozo name. He was then able to get Bozo on TV screen across the country. This was not so much a syndication as it was a franchise, meaning there were multiple Bozos being produced at the local market level as opposed to one Bozo show being produced and broadcast everywhere. Apparently, [MINDBLOWN] Romper Room followed the same model [/MINDBLOWN]. So, Larry Harmon was not my Bozo. My Bozo, as it turns out, was several Bozos.

Growing up on the Jersey Shore meant my television screen was covered by both Philadelphia and New York markets, but neither had a Bozo. In 1989, Philly 57 became my Bozo headquarters. Ok, I was 11 by then and probably too old to watch clowns, but this was novel and fascinating to me, and I couldn't resist. I loved watching the kids fail at Bozo's grand prize game and also got a real kick out of the phrase "Wowie Kazowie!" which I still say occasionally. I am also sort of obsessed with dudes that dress up in masks or costumes and transform themselves into characters. It turns out that there was not one, but two Bozos in the City of Brotherly Love. In 1990 the Hollywood-Bozo-out-on-loan, Deon Aumier, got homesick and made a seamless transition to the Cameraman-turned-Clown, Bob McCone. McCone continued as Bozo until 1994 when the show went off the air in Philly. This is Bob McCone's story of Bozo.

I'm not sure what happened to Aumier, but obviously, Bob McCone is still alive. Or at least he is until I hit "Publish Post."

Here goes...

Larry Harmon (January 2, 1925 - July 3, 2008)

[update 2:47 pm]

A loyal BaTR reader (who will remain nameless as she refuses to leave a comment in the comment section) asks:

"OK, so you're not guilty of murdering Bozo with your blog. But tell me: Did you ever mention Estelle Getty?!"

The unfortunate truth is, Yes. I mentioned the Golden Girls in last months' Sex in the City review. I did not mention any of the girls specifically by name so the Murderous RoBeast Angel of Death decided to randomly choose Estelle Getty. I am really sorry. I love the Girls of Gold and Ma was my favorite. You know I would have preferred it to be one of the Sex in the City broads.

Jesus, Save Me.

I can not stop editing Wikipedia pages.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains: DVD

Finally, actually, and officially happening!

This cult hit filmed in 1980, which was never released commercially in theaters or on VHS, is set to come out on DVD on September 16, 2008. It will feature commentary by Diane Lane.

Masculine squeal!

How did it become a cult hit if it was never released, you ask? Well, it starred the not-yet-famous actresses Diane Lane and Laura Dern as teenage punk rock girls that start a band and tour the country. It also featured members of the Sex Pistols and The Clash who wrote and performed songs in the film. The script came from Nancy Dowd, who wrote Slap Shot. It was directed by Lou Adler, producer/director of Up In Smoke and producer of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It went straight from the editing room to obscurity, only being seen on the small screen late night weekends on USA's Night Flight.

But enough high profile fans who had seen it in the 80's (Courtney Love has allegedly proclaimed it as her favorite) sung its praises loud enough years later that it would start to appear at arthouse screenings and eventually on VH1's Movies that Rock! Still, for the longest time, only bootlegged versions existed for public consumption (I have a pretty decent DVD copy). Nearly 20 years later, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains is finally getting a commercial release. Amazon is already taking pre-orders (only $14.99!).

Check out this link for some more detailed history of the film.

Oh, and if you own a bootlegged copy, don't be a dick -- buy the DVD.

Facebook is Racist

... against Cheeseburgers. Ok, maybe not racist, but there is definitely rampant meat-product discrimination going on over there.

I tried to change my Facebook name today to Rollie Cheeseburger Hatch. I don't really know why. I just wanted to. My actual middle initial is C, and people are always asking what it stands for, so I figured I'd just go with Cheeseburger. Plus, I had a really good cheeseburger on Saturday night at Acme Underground.

Despite my knowing attempt to circumvent Facebook's rules (bullet point 3)...


I went for it. Upon clicking Confirm Request, Facebook immediately switched to DEFCON 3:

"Your name change request has been rejected by our automated approval system."

So sad. I tried three more times just to make sure I didn't fuck up somewhere in the one step process. I didn't.

Not one to let The Man defeat me, I went for an alternate dairy-meat dream-meal. Quesoburguesa sounded good, but didn't stay true to my actual C-lead middle name. I needed one that would thwart the "automated approval system" and survive processing limbo where my submission would face up to 24 hours of interrogation by the Facebook KGB.

A half hour later, I have become Rollie Cheesesteak Hatch.

Why, Facebook? Why Cheesesteak, but not Cheeseburger? Why do you automatically assume that someone could not really be named Cheeseburger? There is a dude that changed his hame to Trout Fishing in America in 1994. How the hell is he going to get a Facebook account approved?

It's time for another highly unscientific RoBeast experiment. (In the interest of getting this expose published already, I will be updating the results throughout the day.)

Acceptable:

• Cheesesteak
  
• Chickennugget
• Chopped Liver
• Castlevania
  

Unacceptable:

• Cheeseburger

Undetermined (AKA too impatient):

• Chuck Wagon
  

I have also chosen to publish the news of this unfortunate setback in Cheeseburger history on Wikipedia. (note - this was considered "junk" and removed that night)

RoBeast reviews the first half of 2008

Beauty and the RoBeast. I just renewed the domain for another year. I'm amazed that we ever got this thing of ours off the ground. Not the mafia, I mean this blogsite. It was conceived somewhere between Princess Meagan's ears sometime in mid-2007, but never actually ejected from our collective finger genitals until the very last week of the year. Here we are 100+ posts later, and there have been lots of failed attempts at reoccurring features (like RoBeast's Rednesday Rhetoric), unanswered quiz questions, and empty promises. I can't even settle on how to spell RoBeast. Ro-Beast? Robeast?

Obviously it hasn't been all bad, or I wouldn't keep coming back, and more importantly, you wouldn't. Beauty and the RoBeast has touched all 50 states, and 37 countries from Japan to Iran then back to Vietnam. Of course, everyone's just looking for more Centaur and Vore porn, but we'll take what we can get. And now without further adieu, I will tie up some loose ends from the first half of Two Thousand and Eight.

• I still have not run a marathon. Every time I run over 10 miles, I end up with a sore knee and a bruised mangina for 3 weeks. Trix from Birds and Trix is trying to convince to do a half-marathon in September though. I may give it a shot.
• I never finished watching Batman Begins and will make no attempt to watch Batman Begins Again (or whatever the new one is called).
• I never wrote a letter to USA asking "Why the fuck can't you show Law & Order episdoes IN ORDER?"
• I did write letters to Chuck Creekmor of allhiphop.com and Jim DeRogatis of The Chicago Sun-Times, but I never got responses from either. Pussies.
• We sold out and installed Google Ads, but didn't tell you to click on them because that's against Google policy. We have so far made $0.00.
• My unintentional Vore porn debut youtube clip is up to 3500 views.
• I did finally install a RoBeast dictionpedia sidebar over there to the right --->
• I never came up with a satisfactory term for rolling up and down an electric car window that had a futuristic Z in it because Avery (of Terminus Est) had a suggestion that could not be topped: maximizing and minimizing the window.
  
• I have to yet to install this BlogRoll thing that Blogger has been recommending for a month now.
• I did watch Roadhouse after Jeff Healey died.
  
• I did not watch Roadhouse after Patrick Swayze did not die.
• Teh Beauty did not get sick and die. She swears.
• I'm not "durnk" anymore, but it was exciting to wake up the next day and see "homemade saline solution" as the last thing I googled the night before.
  
• The incorrectly named Prosacea continues to successfully fight the redcoats off of my faceland.
• I still have not decided whether I'm choosing Tub Ring's The Great Filter or Battles' Mirrored as the 2007 Album of the Year.
• Local H's 12 Angry Months is currently leading for 2008's Album of the Year, although Michelle Branch's next solo record has not yet been released.
• I did not buy Weezer's new album. Nor did I write about their video like I promised.
• I did buy Sarah Bareilles' album but I did not review it like I promised. So here is my review:
  
  Little Voice is good. "Love Song" is the most perfect pop song written in a long time and I hope Sarah Bareilles gets a million dollars for it. Because I'm cheap, I downloaded a demo version of the song before I actually bought the album. The demo version featured just piano and singing, and when I did pick up the album, there were some production decisions that disappointed me a bit. I felt the drumming on the finished track (specifically in the post-choruses) did not do justice to the potential dynamics of the song. Fewer snare hits would have made all the difference in the world. I also preferred the longer piano intro.
  
  Although it did not make it to #1 on the charts, "Bottle It Up" makes me do a #1 in my pants whenever I hear it. "One Sweet Love" is fantastic as well, though the muted electric guitar way back in the mix in the beginning is a little too Motivational Video for me. That was a very small complaint. This is a bigger one: I always skip "Vegas" because it feels too much like Fiona Apple. Not that I even have a problem with Fiona Apple, I just think Sarah Bareilles is more effective in her own unique style. Her voice is far from little and I am looking forward to her next album. The end.
  
  
• The naked girls in the "Sexy Nintendo Tattoos for Geeky Girls" were 80's pop princesses:
  
  Tiffany WhateverTiffanysLastNameIs (duck hunt dog pubes)
  Debbie Gibson (excitebike ass)
  Carnie Wilson (fire flower nipples)
  Belinda Carlisle (tecmo bowl tramp stamp)
  
  
• The correct international translations for Bloodsport are in bold:

Bloody Sport Ensanguined Games
Tournament of Plasma
Friendship Unbroken
Bloodsport: All Strikes Are Allowed
Bloodsport: Tanaka's Honor
Bloodsport: A True Story
Forbidden Battle
Destructive Force
Without Exclusion of Blows
Bloodsport: To The Last Man
Heroic Red Hemorrhage
The Challenge
OK! USA!
American Ass: The Frank Dux Story
Fighting Spirit: The Frank Dux Legacy
Bloody Contact
You Are Nex

• The Ultimate Warrior match I reviewed was not actually the entire match. Of course that's not my fault because they never released the whole match until this past week. Why they made the decision to webcast an edited version of match people paid $30 for, I'll never understand. I think it's tarded, but at least I can give you a few highlights we missed the first time around:

The Ultimate Warrior still looked exhausted for the whole match. Possibly even more so on this longer version because what was cut out was more boring out of the ring (AKA let me catch my breath) action. BUT, the two most exciting moments of the match were also present in this mysteriously "lost" footage.

The first was Orlando Jones, one of the world's only admittedly bisexual wrestlers, actually kissing the Ultimate Warrior's face.


That may look like a headbutt, butt, itt's nott. The Warrior was on his knees in the center of the ring as Orlando taunted and slapped him around a bit. He then bent down and gave the Warrior quite a few pecks on his sweaty facepaintless mug. The Warrior, who in his conservative blogs and public speaking engagements has never had anything positive to say about gays or gay rights, took it like a champ. While not entirely unexpected, this was probably the most entertaining moment of the match.

Highly unexpected was the Warrior leap from the top turnbuckle:

I'm glad that even though his knee was blown out, he still went ahead and went for a big move that he rarely even attempted when he was in his prime.

Finally, "the big speech" after match has been restored. The Warrior breaks kayfabe and speaks out of character, and in fact refers to the Warrior as "a character." You don't see this in wrestling very often. Or ever. He spoke for a few minutes (without yelling), thanking the fans, NWE, and Orlando Jones, and then promptly vacated the title.

I would've liked for this to be the original way the match was presented, instead of that bizarre edited schmozz. This version ended on a more positive, satisfying note. I still think the Warrior is finished with pro wrestling, but at least he went out with cheers from the fans that stuck around.

Have a nice.

i'm durnk right now. that's all i'm going to say.

the new local H aaalbum is fucking awesome. Fucking A, if you will.

I have nothing eloquent to say. nothing articulate either.

here's the situation. i'm durnk. i think i already missleppleelelelelelelelleleel
misspelled that the exact same way early, eh?
cananda


ok
what.
what?

yeah, we're done here.

RoBeast Rollie reports...

Never fear... Teh Beauty is not gone forever. I have heard this straight from the lion's mouth.

The RoBeast vs. Wikipedia: Round Two

All of the Wikipedia vandalism descibed in my last entry was reverted overnight. The person who edited them back was kind enough to call it "cute" and didn't ban my IP address. Of course, I wasn't satisfied with my vandalism lasting less than 24 hours, so like any gambling addict would, I didn't quit while I was ahead.

I first hit up the Megan's Law page:

Not as cute, I suppose. It was reverted within seconds. As was this:


I (or should I say, my anonymous IP address) received another warning, but still haven't been banned or anything. I have discovered that there are people patrolling these Wikipedia pages with anti-vandalism tools that catch shit within seconds of an edit. I suppose I can either stop vandalizing pages, find less popular pages, or teach the world to get a sense of humor.

Let's see if The Used's fans can handle another benign attack...


I don't know what it is that I find so hilarious about Wikipedia vandalism besides my obvious problem with authority and penchant for smartassedness. I don't laugh too hard at most stand-up and am typically unimpressed by the average comedy film. I like to think that my sense of humor is a little dark and sophisticated. But on Wikipedia, the most simple, lowest common denominator-style vulgarity or non-sequitur makes me laugh my ass off.

For instance, someone made an edit to the Stemshorn page that made me chortle. There's really nothing to the page (which I guess is what made it a target), other than a map and some text:

Stemshorn is a municipality in the district of Diepholz, in Lower Saxony, Germany.

Someone changed this to:

Stemshorn is a municipality in the district of Diepholz, in Lower Saxony, Brazil.

It was reverted. He was warned. A week later the same user changed it to this:

Stemshorn is a fucking awesome species of reindeer located district of Diepholz, in Lower Saxony, Germany.

The second edit really got me going. It may be the tenacity of the vandal that excites me. I can identify with that underdog mentality. The person knows that it's going to be reverted again, but just can't resist doing again, and even one-upped himself (or herself). It's not just the attitude, but the context that's funny. It's such a serious, boring page, that any little piece of flair shines. The word "fucking" blatantly undermines the "Quiet! in the Library" attitude and puts a smile to my face (not so much with Panic! at the Disco though). The word "reindeer" is pretty silly too. And, I don't know... this person may be telling the truth. Maybe the Stemshorn is a species of reindeer. And maybe it is fucking awesome! I don't know, but I think that your average 5th grader knows not to quote Wikipedia for their fucking report on Germany, so there. Victim-less crime.

Like I said last time, it's all for the lulz, so I won't spend too much arguing on the moral implications of internet vandalism. I'm also going to keep doing it as long as I can do it humorously. My Q*Bert McCracken was reverted after 50 minutes and I the Erff is still alive and kickin'.

The Stemshorn vandal received a 31(?)-hour suspension from editing pages on Wikipedia.