From Zombos' Closet

Movie Review: The Raven (2012) Quote This Critic: Nevermore!

Zombos Says: Fair

After the promising opening moments of James McTiegue's The Raven are spent with anxious constables rushing to find slashed bodies in a locked room, and the entrance of Inspector Fields (Luke Evans), who approaches the conundrum like Auguste Dupin, John Cusack's Edgar Allan Poe chews the scenery with his superficial temper tantrums and clumsy gyrations, pulled by contrivance instead of subtextual motivations. For god's sake, didn't Cusack and the writers know Poe was a tortured soul with layers of spiritual complexity? Where's the empty pit of isolation and the breadth of despair he suffered through his boozing and melancholy? Yelling the word "f*ck" is not a suitable drama substitute. If only the real Poe could have lent a hand. I'm sure his dialog would have been richer and more sensible, and his suspense would have been palpable as well as plausible. 

Plausibility is a good place to start since this movie adds little of it to tie its sensational events together. A wonderful premise brimming with potential limps instead from indecisive contextual stability as it purloins stock slasher and serial killer tidbits, piecemeal, without understanding their cumulative effect. It's almost like Saw in gruesomeness scale--the strikingly gory pendulum slice and dice on the rotund Rufus Griswold (John Warnaby)--then restrains its visual assault like Horrors of the Black Museum, then jumps from left to right to be similar to Se7en's broader cat and mouse conceit. Each staged execution of Poe's devilish demises by the villain is handled like a fast-food order without condiments, even if imaginatively far-fetched clues propel Poe and Fields one step closer to finding who that killer is and his motive; both of which appear on script cue out of thin air for the denoument's wrap-up, without any explicit or implied discernment along the way to prepare us for the revelation. It just happens. 

Leading up to this, Poe rants, raves, throws his ego all around, sulks, and looks for his next drink--until his mind clears enough to recognize the clues being left behind; Fields, emotionless, analytical, dissects the problem methodically until he develops brain freeze, allowing Poe's now clear mind to take the lead; the blustery Captain Hamilton (Brendan Gleeson) hates Poe--who wants to marry Hamilton's daughter--until the captain becomes conciliatory and friend to Poe to help solve anothe clue, even though it's Poe's stories that have buried his daughter alive and all of them desperately trying to find her. Hamilton's daughter Emily (Alice Eve) loves Poe, but aside from an out of place allusion about him giving good head, made during an overly long and lifeless romantic interlude, why she would like a destitute, alcoholic, and egotistical ass such as Poe is portrayed is not clear. Her wispy and cold presence in every scene blends into the upholstery much of the time, so unless Poe is infatuated with sitting on her, I'm at a loss to understand the attraction they have. Even when she's clawing at the coffin she's buried in, she's as cold as a corpse already.

Then there are the vexing facts in the case of the uneven interior lighting from scene to scene. We go from moody interiors correctly matched with their dim gaslight and oil lamp sources to spectrums of bright white, impossible to be produced by the lamplight available, sandwiched between a few suitably bleak, mist-shrouded exteriors: a memorable chase under a gray sky and through a foggy, barren, forest brings to mind The Fall of the House of Usher.

Not much else is memorable except for the murder by pendulum. Its intensity is surprising given the duller deliveries of the subsequent murders. I'm not sure if practical effects were united with digital, but watching that enormous blade slice through Griswold's belly, him screaming, it cutting deeper with each notch of its giant gears rolling into place, all that blood and glistening chunks of visceral meat splashing wildly, and the blade finally bisecting Griswold into two lifeless parts as it comes to rest, stuck into the wooden table between them, is breathtakingly disturbing, but oddly out of place here. I wondered how the villain managed to build such an immense, clockwork precise contraption by himself. Poe even remarks he hadn't imagined the counterweight to be so large when he sees it.

I'm torn myself between loving and hating it, given the rest of this movie.

Magazines: Undying Monsters 4 Killer Trees, Monster Games, Creepy Music

Zombos Says:  Very Good

"Let me in! Let me in! For the love of god, man, let me in!" I screamed while pounding on the garden shed door.

Pretorius, our groundskeeper, unlocked the door quickly, pulled me inside, and slammed it shut almost before I was fully through. He was out of breadth as much as I was. The walking tree trunk we were running away from started slamming against the shed door. I cautiously peered through the small window. Its googly eyes stared back at me, then, frustrated it couldn't reach us, it shambled off.

"What the hell is that thing?" I said to Pretorius. "And...are those your garden shears sticking out of it?"

"Snuck up on me...it did...while trimmin' the rose bushes," he said, in between huffs and puffs of air. "So  startled...I stuck my shears in it. Don't know where...it came from...or why."

I leaned against the wooden potting table and caught my breadth, but my heart was beating a mile a minute.  "Hey, what's that?" I asked, looking at the new bags of fertilizer. I read  the label out loud. "Golgothan Fertilizer.  The very best poop to make your flowers pop. Arkham Nurseries, Massachusetts."

"New stuff," said Pretorius. "Zombos wanted... to cut expenses...so I found--say, you don't think?"

Before I could answer, Zombos started pounding on the garden shed door, yelling to be let in. I opened the door and pulled him to safety.

He tried to catch his breadth. "What the hell...is that thing? Never in... my life...have I--and why are garden shears stuck in its bark?" he asked, in-between taking mouthfuls of air.

From his frock coat pocket--yes, his warddrobe was as old as he was--tumbled issue 4 of Undying Monsters, though crumpled and torn badly. I picked up the magazine. 

"Sorry," he said, "post brought it. I was bringing it...to you when...that blasted stump crept up on me. Magazine...is useless as a weapon."

I uncrumpled the cover. "Hello. Does this look familiar?" I held it up for Zombos and Pretorius to see. 

"Good lord, it looks like the stump chasing us!" said Zombos. "Quick...find out how they kill it in the movie. Maybe that will help us."

I thumbed through the pages of the From Hell It Came film book. 

"Will you stop looking at the pictures!" said Zombos.

"I can't help it, they're very good, and there are a lot of them." I replied. "Let's see. Island prince framed for murder he didn't commit and stuffed in tree trunk, tree trunk, called Tabanga, comes back to life to shuffle slowly after people, and--heh, heh, heh--"

"What are you laughing about?" asked Zombos. 

"I can't believe they went to all this trouble to write up this goofy movie. I mean, come on, look at how slow the darn thing shuffles along. And its limbs are so stubby, there isn't enough room for a bird to nest on, let alone worrying about getting strangled by this thing. If you ask me--"

Pretorius jumped in impatiently. "I'm askin' you: how'd they stop it?" 

"Right, that, well..." I thumbed through to the end, "okay, here it is. They shot the knife that was previously plunged halfway into its heart, pushing it in to the hilt. Bingo!"

Pretorius said,"then all I need do is push the garden shears in all the way. Hmph. How to do that, then?" He looked around the shed until his eyes lit on a long-handled shovel. "Perfect. I won't need to get too close with this baby." He picked it up, looked out the window to make sure the coast was clear, and opened the door. "Who's with me?"

Zombos and I looked at each other for a long time. 

"Fine. I'll take care of this myself, then." Pretorius held the shovel tight and headed out to find the tree trunk.

Zombos slammed the door shut and relocked it. "While we wait until the coast is clear, what else is in the issue?"

"Let's see. Here's a nostalgic article on old monster board games. Shame the pictures are in black and white, but they've got the classics listed here. Nice rundown from the 60s up to the 70s. Good list for a collector. Never knew there was a Mummy Mystery boardgame. Wish I had this Boris Karloff Monster game. Great box cover and board art on these games, too."

I flipped to another page.

"Here's an interesting and lengthy article on Nostalgic Fear for Your Ears! by Ed Gannon. Caedmon, Pickwick, Peter Pan, Troll, Power, Electric Lemon, boy, he's covered the records pretty well. Brings back a lot of memories. Never could get into the spooky sounds records, but these spoken word ones were great to listen to in the dark, late at night."

I flipped to another page.

"Now you, especially, will find this noteworthy," I told Zombos. Here's an article on Clark Ashton Smith paperbacks.  Robert E. Howard, H. P. Lovecraft, and Smith made up the Weird Tales triumvirate of terror masters. His work is essential reading for anyone who deems him or herself a horror fiction fan."

I was about to mention the article on the Criterion Collection of DVDs, but was interrupted by Pretorius yelling and banging on the garden shed door. I let him. He held the shovel, the handle now broken into two pieces.

"Not long enough," he said.

Zombos looked around the shed. "I have a better plan."

He picked up the chainsaw and handed it to Pretorius. "Go get it!" he said, opening the door.

LOTT-D Visits The Cabin in the Woods Part 2

Forget the box lunch, you may not make it out alive before noon...when the League of Tana Tea Drinkers gets done with Cabin in the Woods...(read Part 1 if you dare).

Day of the Woman warns us to not read the Latin..."The fact that this film has been sitting on a shelf for a few years absolutely blows my mind.  The fact we've cranked out remake after remake and let this collect dust is a downright crime and I pray to the universe that this sort of situation never happens again."

Cinema Suicide tells us everything we know is wrong..."one of the best horror movies released in years from writer, Joss Whedon."

The Moon is a Dead World ponders the metacritical..."At first, the characters and setting in The Cabin in the Woods feel too cliched. But soon, like the moon bursting through a thick fog deep within the night, it becomes clear that these themes are specifically implemented by Goddard and Whedon. The characters are meant to be this way - no, in fact, are manipulated into being this way..." 

From Midnight With Love share the Oompa Loompa love..."To many of us in the horror lovin' community, The Cabin in the Woods has been a real life version of the golden ticket from Willy Wonka for the last several years." 

Slasher Speak begs to differ..."While many reviewers will take the position that much of the “enjoyment” of CABIN is walking in cold and not knowing too much about the plot, my theory is that this approach is merely clever marketing on the part of the film’s distributor because if people actually knew what they were paying for, the opening week box office would be far less."

Kindertrauma is for AND against..."For me, there’s nothing worse than a film stuck in the middle of the road. Those are the kinds of films that leave you feeling like you wasted two hours of your life. Even in a typically bad film, there could be something unintentionally hilarious, whether it be an inept line reading, a campy performance, or a delicious lack of understanding of the cinematic language, that makes the viewing experience a little worthwhile."

LOTT-D Visits The Cabin in the Woods Part 1

Pack a box lunch and join members of the League of Tana Tea Drinkers as they visit The Cabin in the Woods...

Theofantastique explores the monstrous and the eldritch..."In this post I will supplement some of the commentary previously offered, and present a few observations that are worth considering in light of Whedon’s latest work, and the current state of American horror films."

Freddy in Space has a wet dream..."I'm just gonna come right out and say it.  This movie is way too smart and way too awesome for American theaters and mainstream American audiences.  That's all I could think the whole time I was watching the movie, a belief that was confirmed for me when upon exiting the theater, I heard several groups of people talking about how stupid the movie was, and how they just didn't 'get it'."

Day of the Woman ponders on horror facelifts and non-horror audiences..."As much as I'd like to believe that the sole purpose of horror films being made is to present something to appeal to the fan, we all know it's a load of poppycock.  Films (regardless of genre) HAVE TO MAKE MONEY."

Scared Silly gets lost and visits the wrong cabin..."A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of attending a special presentation of silent films at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts (click here to see my write-up about the event). These weren’t just any silent films – they were silent horror-comedies programmed by Bruce Lawton with wonderful piano accompaniment from Ben Model as part of their "Silent Clowns" film series."

Strange Kids Club reveals who's really pulling the strings..."Released last week to coincide with the film, Titan’s The Cabin in the Woods: Official Movie Novelization and Official Visual Companion both offer hours of extended “bonus features.” As to be expected, the novelization (adapted by Tim Lebbon) follows the film pretty closely and as a result doesn’t offer anything new, but manages to provide some “replay value” for those awaiting the inevitable DVD/Blu-Ray release. On the other hand, the Visual Companion comes loaded with awesome content that ranges from an interview with Whedon and Goddard in which the co-writers reveal some cool nuances of how The Cabin in the Woods became what it did (including hints to Easter Eggs and cameos) to concept art, set builds and fear-filled facts about a majority of the monsters. There are literally enough ideas here for at least 2 or 3 films (hmmm… sequel anyone?)."

Don't touch that dial! There's more to come...read Part 2.

Graphic Book Review: Young Lovecraft and His Odd Friends

Zombos Says: Good

What's a cultured and persnickety boy to do? Summon the gods to deal with all that growing-up-nerdy angst? and bullies bullying? and annoying aunts not in tune with those outre wavelengths his brain puts out? Why, yes!

Jose Oliver and Bartolo Torres let young Howard Lovecraft do just that. Even if he does bother Santa Claus every Christmas with requests for a copy of the Necronomicon in his stocking, and although he has little experience with his heady conjurations so they don't always work the way he'd like, and, well yes, those aunts are trying at times, but all in all, little Lovecraft gets by with a little help from his odd friends (and assorted demi-gods); and sometimes, even in spite of their help.

With Young Lovecraft's childhood encounters captured in 3-panel comic strips, the humorous zing has to be measured precisely in three beats, and for the most part, it is, aided by the minimalist, manga-styled and off-kilter artwork. With charmining aunties taking him to origami fairs and picking up evil guitar-playing hitchhikers, and with him over-dressing for Halloween as Harun Al-Rachid, the Caliph of Baghdad, the opportunities for his awkward weirdness complicating things geometrically propagates.

Add to this his penchant for rewriting the classics with the same dreadful theme, picking up dog-like ghouls in cemeteries, and sepulchre-partying with people like Edgar Allen Poe, Charles Baudelaire, and Arthur Rimbaud (though those panels don't exactly raise the dead in their zest), Young Lovecraft does manage to keep things infectiously cheeky for fans of the mythic mythos meister.

While this first volume is not quite as squirrely written and wittily acerbic as Roman Dirges's Lenore, the same lightly dark tone and zany mischief can be found in Oliver's characters and situations, and in Torres's wild-eyed, noseless, facial expressions. Of course, being translated from the original Spanish, the words may lose some of their nuances in the translation.

But if you can imagine Charlie Brown partying among the tombstones and summoning ancient gods to handle life's daily challenges facing a not-your-average kid, with his usual bungling innocence not helping, than you will enjoy Young Lovecraft as much as I did.

Milton Bradley's Monster Squad Game

Here's the Milton Bradley game based on the Monster Squad  Saturday morning series, airing 1976 to 1977, for fans who yearned, like I did, for one of those utility belts they wore. (Click each picture to open in browser, then click again to enlarge. Use your browser's back button to return.)

Professor Kinema Reflects on Dark Shadows and Jonathan Frid

1984: A young(er) Professor Kinema chillin'
with Jonathan Frid at a Dark Shadows Convention

By Professor Kinema

It was something unprecedented for afternoon programming. In fact, it was unprecedented for television programming for its time. Dark Shadows first aired on June 26, 1966 on the ABC network. Inspired by a dream, Dan Curtis created what would enter TV history as the first Gothic Daytime Serial, or as some would refer to it, soap opera. Even though it originally did not contain any supernatural elements, about 6 months into its run ghosts were introduced into the storyline. After another six months the ratings were sagging. At this point it was felt that yet a new and etremely unique element was to be added: a vampire.

Around show number 210 Barnabas Collins was introduced. Series creator Dan Curtis took his daughter's advice to "make the show scarier." At first, only Barnabas's hand was seen at the end of one episode. The character was a 175 year old vampire mistakenly resurrected and unearthed. As he was primarily concieved his character was to cause some mayhem, then be on the recieving end of a stake. However, viewers took to him totally, so the stake element was dropped. Due to the writing talent of the show, and the gifted insight of the actor playing the part, the entity of the Vampire was redifined. This metamorphosis reflected the times in which it was all happening. Such reinvention occurs regularly.

Although I wasn't entirely a fan of the series, I was definitely aware of its popularity. Friends who regularly followed it would state that they had to 'get home to watch Barnabas on TV after school.' On the magazine racks in local stationary stores Dark Shadows comics were turning up with the face of Barnabas adorning the covers. A minor cultural phenonema was happening.

I first saw Jonathan Frid 'in the flesh' during the summer of 1970. Friends and I decided to make the jaunt to the uncharted wastes of New Jersey. Our objective was to spend the day at the then still existing Palisades Park. On that particular day a beauty contest was occuring. The theme was 'Miss Vampire.' The contestants were dressed in various Goth-ish costumes. While being interviewed a few, getting into the spirit of the proceedings, added to their images by answering in bizarre, Germanic accents. When it came time for judging, the host introduced "...the one and only, Barnabas." Jonathan Frid walked out onto the platform and made a comic gesture, shielding his eyes from the vampire-damaging rays of the sun. He was not in costume but rather conservatively dressed in a suit. It was all in ghoulish fun.

In 1984 I was asked to be an 11th hour replacement for author Leonard Wolf at a Dark Shadows convention at the Gateway Hilton (again, New Jersey). The recommendation came from a friend of mine, Dr. Stephan Kaplan. Kaplan was a self proclaimed 'Vampirologist' who made appearances at such conventions relating stories of his investigations (and alleged deadly encounters) with 'real life' vampires. This was the second official Dark Shadows convention. Wolf, of the Count Dracula Society, was to talk about the Vampire in Literature. My presentation was, roughly, A Brief History of the Cinema Vampire. At the conclusion of our presentations, Jonathan Frid was brought out. We all sat down and fielded questions from the audience.

Since the room was jammed with hardcore Dark Shadows fans, naturally the focus of attention was turned to Barnabas himself. He would at times instruct the fans to address Dr. Kaplan and myself with other questions relating to what we were talking about earlier. The fans were respectful and did toss comments and questions our way, but after all...this was a Dark Shadows convention. The main fact Jonathan Frid was emphasizing was, "I was just an actor who was playing a part in a TV daytime series." Like many bonified media cult figures, he was truly baffled with his cult status.

I have a fond memory of that Dark Shadows convention, the organizers, the devoted body of fans who were there and, especially, Jonathan Frid himself. He was friendly and personable. An accout of this convention morphed into a chapter of a book titled True Tales of the Unknown, the Uninvited (1989, Bantan Books). In the chapter titled (what else?) Dark Shadows, Kaplan related the events of the day, our presentations to the fans, our involvement with Jonathan Frid, and how it all led him into an involvement with a real, bonafide vampire.

According to the obits, Jonathan Frid's career continued and flourished. Occasionally, he would be involved with other fantastic projects. He starred opposite Shelley Winters in the 1973 TV movie The Devil’s Daughter; the next year he played a horror writer in Seizure, Oliver Stone’s first feature. Returning to the stage, he played Jonathan Brewster — a role originated by Boris Karloff — in a 1986 Broadway revival of the macabre comedy Arsenic and Old Lace.

He makes a cameo appearance in Tim Burton's soon to be released Dark Shadows movie (along with several other DS alumni). Trained for the classical theater and adept at doing Shakespeare (for which he won awards) it may be possible that something ethereal and mildly diabolical was guiding his destiny.

After all, he left this realm on Friday the 13th. 

Movie Pressbook: The Skull (1965)

If only the movie, The Skull, were as exciting as this pressbook. The skull ring promotion is mouth-watering (okay, at least for me). And the tabloid herald, which I haven't seen, is printed in Day-Glo ink! I must find one! (You know the drill: Click each graphic to open in your browser, than click again to enlarge enough to read, then use your browser back button to return.)

Book Review: The Return Man by V.M. Zito

Behind Marco was a closed metal door, a window in the middle. The flashlight's reflection in the glass burned like a sun in a starless universe. A small placard read DINING CAR in dirty red letters; next to it sat a large rectangular button. PRESS. The door had been hydraulic--hit the button, the door slid open. Wouldn't work now.

"There'll be a release somewhere for emergencies," Marco said, scanning the jambs. "Like power failures. Or when resurrected corpses eat all the people on board."

 

Henry Marco is a zombie bounty hunter. He lives in the Evacuated States, the western half of the United States not governed by the New Republicans, but by the dead, who he tracks down, one by one, for breathing and grieving relatives living in the Safe States lying east of the Mississippi River. It's not clear who is comforted more when he finds his target, the relatives or Marco, although he's driven to keep doing it. He does get paid for it, but money's the last thing he really needs right now.

What drives him is his wife, presumed dead and walking in all those familiar places those whispers of memories make the dead return to. Only Danielle's body refuses to show up where expected, so he refuses to leave his Spanish Revival abode until he finds her. For a head doctor he's one head case himself, full of false ambivalence and suppressed death wishes, but he manages to do his job well enough. 

And there lies the crux of the matter in V. M. Zito's The Return Man. Marco's reputation gets around to Homeland Security. Benjamin, his partner drumming up business from back east, is paid a visit by them and they strongarm Marco into using his gift for finding sentimental stiffs to find one in particular, a Dr. Ballard, whose importance to them, and just about every other government outside the United States, makes  the doctor's body a hot commodity: with the infection contained to the U.S., Ballard's body may hold the antidote, or at least an inoculation, against the disease. With the threat of Benjamin's brains being splattered unless he cooperates, Marco has no choice.

Like much of the zombie fiction today, the military is involved, biological terror instigants are involved, and crazed people with nefarious plans are involved. Unlike much of the literature, Zito brings a zest for zombie-pickings, close calls, and character motivations through dialog, thoughts, and actions: there's Marco, a ghost of his former self, reluctantly caught in the middle of a covert tug of war; there's Wu, the Chinese sleeper agent, a killing machine as effective as any zombie; the Horesemen, a militia made up of very determined anarchists chasing after Marco and Ballard; and Osborne, who directs Homeland Security with a hidden agenda and sends Marco on his unmerry way to find Ballard.

Last seen in California, in a maximum security prison that's now filled with a few thousand zombies, Marco's got his work cut out for him. He and Wu team up, but zombies aren't the only ones wanting to take a bite out of Marco's back as their travel to California involves a dangerously stalled locomotive and unnecessary side stops along the way that can kill more than time. Eventually you begin to wonder who will get Marco first: the zombies? Wu? the Horesemen? or Marco himself? He has a habit of knowing better but not following through on it.

Zito packs each chapter with enough zombies and the living mayhem to make the 414 pages summer-breeze by, although there are times the flailing limbs, chomping teeth, and tactical disadvantages and missteps blur into impracticality; but his style keeps the suspenseful momentum going forward, just as determinedly as Marco and the secret assassin at his side. And those ubiquitous zombies.

Movie Review: The Three Stooges (2012) Return of the Screwballs

Zombos Says: Good

There's screwball comedy, there's slapstick, there's farce, and then there's The Three Stooges, who took the Depression's stark reality and slapped it silly until it cried  "Uncle!" Funny how times haven't changed much: with us a thumbnail length's distance from another Depression this time around, Moe, Larry, and Curly are back, bending reality into stark silliness and absurd mayhem once again. (Note to Roger Ebert: As any fan of the comedy trio will tell you, the key point to remember when watching The Three Stooges, in order to appreciate their low-brow antics, is this: there is no point; just go with it. Knowing this would have helped you find the humor.)

This time around it's Chris Diamantapoulos as Moe, Will Sasso as Curly, and Sean Hayes as Larry. The big question most Stooges fans will want to know the answer to is "Do these newbies have the vaudeville timing? Do they have that endearing rat-a-tat-tat delivery combining physical skirmishing with verbal insouciance down pat?

The anwer is a resounding well,somewhat.

The familiar routines are here but they lack the kinetic smoothness honed from performing the motions a thousand times, like the original Stooges had done on stage. That's not to say they don't work successfully, but there are times they don't seem natural to Moe, Larry, and Curly's beings: I wondered why Curly was doing that antic, or Moe was doing this antic in certain scenes that didn't really warrant that particular aberrant behavior. Hayes's Larry doesn't fully fit the original Larry's shoes, either. Larry Fine, the perennial receiver of Moe Howard's short end of the stick, was a master of passive-aggressive duplicity. Hayes takes a different approach, rendering Larry less passive-aggressive and more dull-witted. At least his Bozo-styled hairdo lends itself as a successful running gag throughout.

Another challenge the Farelley Brothers (not to be confused with the Fratellis of The Goonies) needed to overcome in bringing the Stooges back to the big screen was the short subject movie length Moe Howard, Larry Fine, and Curly Howard (and eventually the shamefully underrated Shemp Howard) normally paraded their antics in. Forget the full-length movies, those came later and were written for juveniles (I mean the real ones) and didn't have Curly or Shemp as foils to energize the slapstick--although Joe Besser and Curly Joe weren't too shabby in their own right.  Would all the eye-poking, face-slapping, and inappropriately handled construction hardware hold up past the half-hour mark?

The answer is why soitenly!

Creating a faux short subject approach, The Three Stooges hour and a half movie is broken into segments with titles, but the storyline's excessive cardboard sentimentality stifles throughout. For a moment I thought the Farelley Brothers had watched too many Little Rascals episodes and not enough Three Stooges shorts. (There are even two orphaned kids with Our Gang-sounding names, Peezer and Weezer.) Feelings never got in the way of The Three Stooges, unless they were the result of a badly aimed sledgehammer or a crowbar wedged up Curly's nose. Perhaps the biggest challenge of all was how to make the Stooges relevant again. Would making fun of rich people, beating up mean manly nuns (that would be Larry David as Sister Mary-Mengele), and watching babies peeing with deadly aim still be funny to watch?

The answer here is hell, yes!

In what is perhaps the closest realization of the essence of The Three Stooges's brand of carnage, a maternity ward's babies become surprisingly effective bio-weapons as the boys goes at each other. The timing is impeccable, the scene completely idiotic and hilarious because of its idiocy. Of course, using two hot irons as defibrollator paddles runs a close second. More could have been done, but there's enough physical comedy and wordplay here to initiate those unfamiliar with the Stooges's style of comedy.

The misstep in execution comes from the Farelleys resorting to retro-izing the Stooges world instead of forcing them to cope with the modern one. Using the hoary orphanage backstory, we see the Stooges as hastily abandoned orphans, watch as the nuns initial joy at finding the foundlings turns to fear as the boys grow into unsafe-to-be-around kids, and we're finally brought to present day when the orphanage must close due to their accident-prone behaviors forcing medical insurance coverage to be dropped and the orphanage to owe hundreds of thousands of dollars in payments.

Moe, Larry, and Curly embark on a journey to find the money. Having been sheltered in the orphanage all their lives, the outside world proves Facebook compared to their phone book approach. All those potentially sublime catastrophic encounters--an Apple Genius Bar or maybe even annoying sidewalk cell phone chatterers, are two that easily come to mind--aren't explored.  The Farelley's play it safer by using a standard, but simplified, murder plot and a surprisingly witty meta-stooge scenario with a notable reality television show. 

After kicking around in development for 10 years or so, The Three Stooges movie could probably have been written better. But if you go with the flow, you may be surprised and find yourself laughing without knowing why. And that's what The Three Stooges were all about.