Mr. Rage: Furious About Films...

"Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" 

Gets 2 Fuckin'-A rights!

You know what truth I hold to be self-evident? That all profanities are NOT created equal. That they are endowed by their speaker with certain inalienable rights to express rage. That among them are "shit", a good "god-dammit", and the pursuit of saying “fuck” whenever you’d like to. Michael Bay must agree because his best movies tend to be the ones where someone’s allowed to say “fuck.” Cases in point:

+ “Bad Boys”: “No cup holder, no back seat. Just a shiny dick with two chairs in it. I guess we the balls just draggin’ the fuck along.” Masterpiece.

+ “Bad Boys II”: “See, that’s that new spiritual shit my partner’s on. Me? I actually prefer shooting motherfuckers.” Another masterpiece.

+ “Armageddon”: “This is one order you shouldn’t follow and you fucking know it!” Intergalactic masterpiece...and Mr. Rage’s favorite Bay movie.

+ “The Rock”: “Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.” No truer words, Sean Connery. No. Truer. Words.

In “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen,” a character tries to drop The F-Bomb and is cut off. Bad sign. The only movie Mr. Rage has seen where that happened – and things maintained badassery – was “Live Free or Die Hard.” “Revenge of the Fallen” is no “Live Free or Die Hard” dammit. 

The straight dope from Mr. Rage is that “Revenge of the Fallen” makes no fucking sense. At all. Maybe if you’re a kid with a little pre-jack pooling up from Megan Fox, it does. But to a grown-ass man, no way. There’s a bunch of ancient robot language, ancient robot keys, ancient robot warriors who fart parachutes and fire. I could feel the skin on my nutsack turning ancient the longer this movie went on.

And, as KISS does, I love it loud. But holy living fuck, this is like watching a 150-minute movie with one ear next to a revving engine and the other ear being boxed by Wladimir Klitschko. I felt like my brain had been violated without benefit of a reacharound once this movie was over.

Speaking of those I’d give the reacharound, Miss Fox personifies the reason why blow-up dolls don’t speak. But she’s not alone in the awful performance department. John Turturro – who’s not too bad in that otherwise shitty “Taking of Pelham 123” movie – shows us his pimply, hairy ass. (I pity the poor fucks that watch this movie in IMAX.) That Shia LaBeouf kid’s OK, but he’s playing the same damn person he’s played in every movie he’s done.

Yeah, the robot fighting is cooler this time around. There’s another hot chick named Isabel Lucas, and it’s kind of cool to watch the pyramids get jacked up Bay-style. But this shit just goes on too long, and the explosions get boring. I give “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” two fuckin’-A rights. 

Next time, I’ll review Christian Bale – a true F-Bomb sensei – in “Public Enemies.” Until then, rage on.

P.S. – You want a safe firework this Independence Day? Buy The F-Bomb. It will only explode that which feels good. Yeah, it’s a shameless plug. It’s my website. Fuck off.

Mr. Rage: Furious About Films...

"The Taking of Pelham 123" 

Gets 2 Fuckin'-A rights!

This week, I saw “The Taking of Pelham 123,” an action movie directed by Tony Scott.

Now, the Rage Brothers will be kicking ass and taking names if they could roll like the Scott Brothers – Ridley and Tony. Shit, man – just look at the great movies those British bulldogs have made.

Tony got it started with hot lesbian vampires in “The Hunger” and followed with “Top Gun,” “Beverly Hills Cop II,” “The Last Boy Scout,” “True Romance,” “Crimson Tide” and “Enemy of the State.” You will find each of those in my DVD collection. In fact, I like to watch one of them late at night. No, not “Top Gun.” Dick.

Then, Ridley’s got “Alien,” “Blade Runner,” “Thelma & Louise,” “Gladiator,” “Black Hawk Down.” The guy even got Demi Moore to say “suck my dick” in “G.I. Jane.”

The Scotts rock, but they’re not on a roll. “Body of Lies”? Weak, Ridley. Just weak. And Tony hasn’t made anything Mr. Rage has liked for a long time. “The Taking of Pelham 123” is good for an hour. Then, it made me as angry as John Travolta’s character is at the start of the movie.

He’s Ryder, a dude with badass tattoos and big-ass guns who hijacks a subway train in New York and holds its passengers hostage for $10 million. Travolta’s always better as a bad guy. No one has shouted “Brother!” so angrily since the heyday of “Macho Man” Randy Savage.

In fact, I’m inducting Mr. Travolta into the F-Bomb Hall of Fame. Perhaps I’ll plate one in gold and send it to him. He makes “fuck” sound like a rocking guitar solo in this movie. In fact, he shouts “motherfucker” so many times that he might have found a way to use it as an article and a prepositional phrase. He stops just short of adverbs, so let me say Travolta is motherfuckingly outstanding in this movie. The man even tells James Gandolfini (aka Tony Soprano) to “lick his bunghole.” Whoa. Samuel L. Jackson would be proud. Bravo.

Anyway, Ryder ends up on the horn with Garber, who’s played by Denzel Washington. Garber is a dude who could use a case of F-Bombs. He’s given his life to mass transit, and for what? He’s being investigated for taking a bribe when he starts talking to Ryder. Waiting for the cops and the mayor to arrive, Garber’s got to get through to Ryder, who, if I can say it again, is one crazy motherfucker.

It’s fun to watch Washington and Travolta go back and forth, even though you sort of wish Washington would go “Training Day” on Travolta. Problem is, the action – when it happens – is the worst part. Both Washington and Travolta suddenly go from smart to stupid. And if I were the NYPD, I’d get my lawyer on the line. The movie suggests they’re shitty drivers and fat, sluggish beat cops. Of course, I’ve not been to New York, so that could be a perfectly valid portrayal. Still, it seems fishy.

And Travolta’s master plot – which didn’t make much sense in relation to his small-scale hostage situation – really pissed me off. Let’s just say another bunch of assholes probably got rich. But I’m not worried – I’ll be there soon moving these F-Bombs.

In the meantime, I’ll give “The Taking of Pelham 123” 1, 2 – but not 3 – fuckin’-A rights. Well, that’s it. Join me next time when I review a pissed-off-looking bunch of giant robots in “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.” Until then, rage on.

Mr. Rage Movie Review: Drag Me to Hell

Mr. Rage: Furious About Films...

"Drag Me to Hell" 

Gets 4 Fuckin' -A rights!

Mr. Rage here. I’m no film critic. I don’t know Godard from “goddamn.” I know dick about documentaries. And unless German expressionism included throwing up a middle finger or breaking things, well, I don’t know shit about that, either.

However, I know I like movies with people who are pissed off and do something about it. I know I hate that Sandra Bullock cuddly-farty bullshit. I know I’ve never been caught smuggling Funyuns and cognac every time I’ve gone to the movies.

This week, I saw “Drag Me to Hell,” a horror movie directed by Sam Raimi. Time was, that guy’s name guaranteed greatness. The “Evil Dead” movies, “Darkman” and “A Simple Plan” all get Mr. Rage’s seal of approval.

But my right butt-cheek went numb during “Spider-Man 3,” a snoozer that turned Peter Parker into a spastic-dancing jackass.  Seriously, I’ve flushed better movies after long nights at White Castle. Then again, I don’t get paid to crap out “Spider-Man” movies like he does.

Maybe that’s a little harsh, because if the inevitable “Spider-Man 4” kicks half as much ass as “Drag Me to Hell,” it’s going to be one of the best superhero movies ever.

Raimi has gotten his shit back together for this one – pissed-off demons throwing people around like ragdolls, stapled-shut eyes, vomited maggots and formaldehyde, and a gypsy woman that even I wouldn’t want to fuck with. Now I know why Borat and his fat friend wanted nothing to do with them. But more about the gypsy later.

Let’s talk about Alison Lohman as Christine, a hot, young banker who once was a fat farm-girl teenager. Forget dragging her to hell. I’d gladly take her to heaven. (A scene with a tight-fitting T-shirt in the rain is one that I’ll enjoy on Blu-ray.) I read that Ellen Page, the pregnant chick from “Juno,” was supposed to be in this. Friends, we call that trading up.

But I digress. Pissed off? I don’t care. You want professional? Read Ebert.

Anyway, Christine’s trying to put her past behind her with a good job and an uppity boyfriend (that rail-thin toolbag who’s the Mac in the Mac-PC ad). Even in this shitty economy, she’s up for a promotion. But her boss says she’s got to be more of a cast-iron bitch to get it. Boy, does Christine pick the wrong lady to piss off – an old gypsy who hocks phlegm and takes apart her dentures on Christine’s desk.

When Christine won’t extend the gypsy’s mortgage, the gypsy flips her shit so much that she even tries to bite Christine with her denture-less mouth. (That’s not even scratching the surface of how batshit this movie gets. Trust me.) Then, the gypsy summons a black-goat demon from hell to torment Christine before taking her soul.

I don’t want to spoil anything because this is one movie you won’t be pissed that you paid to see. Rest assured, though, that Christine does something about her anger, too. See it with the hottest chick that will go with you. In her fragile state, you can, uh, comfort her later. 

Oh, “stars.” Every critic gives “stars.” Well, how about “fuckin’-A rights”? “Drag Me to Hell” gets four fuckin’-A rights. 

Well, that’s it. Join me next time when I review a pissed-off-looking John Travolta in “The Taking of Pelham 123.” Until then, rage on my angry friends. 

Mr. Rage