December 23, 2014

ELVES


Exploitation Movie Review (EMR): Merry Christmas, Quippers! (I’m gonna call you all Quippers from now on, you fucking disgusting label whores.) This month’s offering is a dreadful little piece of shit which hilariously brief research tells me was filmed, scored, and released. The only thing you need to know is that this fucking turd clocks in at just over an hour and a half while Corman’s The Fall of the House of Usher clocks in only at an hour and a quarter. But hey, if there were any justice in the world, O.J. wouldn’t be sitting in jail right now.

This film starts as it means to go on: by looking and sounding like an episode of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” - with added witchcraft, woman-beating and Nazi paraphernalia, but heavily reduced levels of Gary.

The End of Summer (TEOS): Try as hard as you want to be ominous and foreboding, you stupid movie, but everything you establish in your pretty lame opening credit sequence is completely overcome by the word ELVES popping up on screen, and in a font that I’m pretty sure is Times New Roman.

Speaking of laughing at incompetence:


TEOS: C’mon...NO ONE caught that?

Elves opens with a gaggle of teen girls hauling ass out to the middle of the woods where they’re about to spread a blanket, bitch about Christmas, and perhaps do some light kissing. Man, have these girls been reading my dream journal?

EMR: Haha, these crazy bitches. I was going to mention that this hanging-out-in-the-woods-and-hating-on-Christmas deal doesn’t seem like a healthy or regular activity for teenage girls, but then I got a look at the lead girl, Kirsten (pronounced Keehr-stin), and she looks like Bibi Besch and the mom from Harry & The Hendersons used a semen applicator shaped like Bret Michaels’ fist to smash dumpster jizz into each other out of spite. Man, she looks fucking old. I’m glad I didn’t start getting laid until the early 2000s when 15-year-old girls at least LOOKED like 13-year-old-girls.

TEOS: Speaking of sexy things, I admit: the minute these three teenage girls knelt down and spread out a blanket, I thought sex was about to happen. Has pornography poisoned my mind, or has my lack of a sex life turned me into a pervert?

You decide.
 

EMR: I don’t know, man. These three look old enough to be moms, and the only three moms I’m interested in seeing fucking each other are Ellen Griswold, Beverly Sutphin, and Missy Logan (with an honourable mention for Peggy Bundy. She can be, like, watching or something.).

Jumping Jesus, is this how teenage girls talk? Like this? One of them mentioned a guy called “Dave,” who I’m assuming she wants to bang. If Dave’s got any sense, he’ll pretend the start of this movie is a documentary about the Jersey Devil, beat this bitch to death with a shin bone, and eat her hands and teeth so the county medical examiner can’t identify the body.

Oh, Kirsten’s just mentioned “the Master Race.” Bit of subtle foreshadowing, there. It’s like this film is the school and Damon Lindelof was the student.


TEOS: You know, as someone who is actually a little anti-Christmas, I don’t appreciate the feature film Elves suggesting that this stance makes me tantamount to a bunch of air-head white supremacists who are so mentally vapid that they’ve brought a blanket all the way into the woods but chose to sit directly on the fucking ground. Because I’m anti-Christmas I’m also an anti-Semite and a bigot? What the fuck, I love Larry David AND I downloaded the N.W.A. this week!

EMR: Have I really got to be the one who points out the crude, fan-fic, Staedtler Noris Club Jumbo pencil drawing of the “anti-Christmas nymph”? There are tits RIGHT ON SHOW HERE, MAN! PENCIL TITS! Jesus, if they wanted to remake this movie for a modern audience, all they’d have to add would be hentai tentacles and some pixellated dicks.

TEOS: It’s a pretty good drawing, to be fair. Here’s hoping someone locks it in the safe on a majestic cruise ship doomed to sail into a giant metaphor so Bill Paxton can find it a hundred years later while having hilarious frosted N’Sync hair.

"I want you to draw me like one of your nightmares."

EMR: “Hey, the candle!” … Hey, the candle what? I’m no scientist nerd-loser or anything, but I’m pretty sure that if you light a candle, the very action of the wick burning is pretty much what it’s supposed to do, so why is this dumb fucking broad acting like it’s just turned into 1:100 scale diorama of ... losing his mind and feeding Chili dogs into ... asshole? (I’m coming back to this - it’s late and I can’t think of anything funny.)

TEOS: Are you losing your mind already? We’re barely out of the credits.

EMR: Whatever, man. Y'know, for all my ragging of Lindelof, I sure know how to make people fill in the blanks that I can't be bothered with.

Like I say: whatever. It's very zeitgeist. I am the zeitgeist. I believe that with every fibre of my being.

Oh, great. Now Kirsten’s cut her hand. You fucking idiots. You’d better hope this doesn’t give life to an old, Nazi experiment to build a master race of elves.
 

TEOS: Boy, this sure fizzled real fast. A snuffed candle and a cut finger is enough to halt their ritual? Talk about dedication, girls. Instead, maybe you’d better get to the mall, grab a hot dinner from Sbarros, and then throw it all up in the bathroom of Things Remembered.

But no, instead they go home clutching their school books like a bunch of Marys.

Keer-stin - this is her, right? - totes got caught slipping an old book back onto a shelf, and for her troubles, her face meets her grandfather’s hand a couple times.

Oh my god, do you hear how Jewish this old wheelchair-bound grandfather is? I laughed at the slaps, and I laughed again at the bad fake Jew voice.


EMR: I can never hear the sound of a Jewish voice over the sound of all the change in their pockets.

Gramps is looking to wash that gash...on Kirsten’s hand. Kirsten just says that she’ll do it, but in such a way as to make it seem like she’s used to Grandpa coming onto her in this way.

“Ah, Kirsten, I see zhat you have a split...on your lip. Here, let Grandpa kizz it better.”

“Oh Grampa!”

*whimsical music/ the sound of children’s screams and clowns masturbating*


"There's...something outside, and it wants to talk to us about Jesus."

TEOS: Holy crap. Keer-stin’s icy cunt of a mother doesn’t think trespassing into her grandfather’s room is punishable with just two slaps. She’s going to close down Keer-stin's savings account and keep the money. What a fuckhead. I barely know this woman, but I want her instantly dead.

Also, did you laugh when Keer-stin’s mother confronted her about going in Grampa's room and Keerstin rolled her eyes and responded, “He’s already slapped me twice.” Because I did. I want to know if anyone else is amused by the image of an old man slapping a teenage girl.

EMR: Closing down a Jewish girl’s savings account is like telling… 
Hi, EMR here. One half of the blogging duo Two Guys, One Quip. You’ve probably heard of us from "Gorbachev’s Laugh-nost." We’ve had a lot of yucks this year, and some of them have actually been you laughing WITH us. Since it’s Christmas, we wanted to give you, the reader, the opportunity to take part in one of our reviews. As you can see above, I’ve just started on the path to a really quite offensive racial slur. One which could very easily see me sharing a steel sprung bunk bed, up in county, with a guy called "Maria." To save me getting blasted in the ass so hard that every time I shit, Leonard Peltier cries, I’m offering you the opportunity to “fill in the blank,” as it were, with the racial slur of your choice. Closing date for entries is January 12th and you can submit your slur in the comments section, below this article. Thanks for listening, enjoy the rest of the review.
But seriously, closing down this girl’s savings account is a terrible thing to do. How the hell is she supposed to pay to have Grandpa’s kids aborted, now?

TEOS: Okay, this is not the first film I’ve seen in which a little brother purposely spies on his big sister in the shower. That’s...really unsettling.

OH MY GOD.

Keer-stin calls him a pervert, and he goes on to say ALL this:

I’m not a pervert! I like seeing naked girls! And you’ve got fucking big tits, and I’m gonna tell everyone I saw them! Fuck you, Mom says she’s giving me all your money, so fuck you!
I’m not really sure how or why, but this scene ends with the siblings play-wrestling on the bed, not at all incensed with each other.

This movie is already so insane and seedy and ridiculous that after Charles Band saw it, he sued out of spite, his grounds for charges being he “would have eventually thought of something like this.”


EMR: Did you see that kid’s sweet Donatello PJs? The way he was talking, I’d have expected him to be more of a Michelangelo fan. Huh. You learn something new every day.

Oh, I’m also adopting that part of the script as my family motto because it pretty much says everything I believe in, ever. Here’s what it looks like, in Latin, after I ran it through a Google translator, and put it in a fancy font:



EMR: I don’t know about you, but I think that looks pretty fucking sophisticated.

TEOS: I’d put it on my wedding invitations. If only anyone would have me….

Also, I couldn’t resist. I translated it BACK into English:

I'm not a pervert! It helps, it helps to see the elbows. And you've got a great fucking tits, and seemed to take pleasure in their praise of all men? I'll bugger you, he says, gives all the money, it was given to me, so cheap!
EMR: So, Kirsten’s having a pretty bad day, all things considered, and the only friend she has left (by her own admission, not mine. Personally, I think she’s being fucking churlish, because those other two broads she was in the forest with weren’t exactly pushing her around and calling her out on her triple thick maxi-pads or whatever, so she HAS friends) is her cat. So, while she’s tucked away in bed like Mary Ellen Walton, the Nazi Elf who’s been resurrected by her bleeding paw-paw is making his way into the house via the basement. At least I think it’s the basement. To be honest, this film’s so fucking dark and misleading, I may as well be watching AvP: Requiem

TEOS: Ha! So Keer-stin is standing in the Santa line with her assholes Amy and Brooke so they can “goof on Santa,” which is something she’d been “waiting for all day.” You know, Keer-stin is definitely attractive by late-‘80s standards, and based on what she "waits for all day," there’s also something clearly the matter with her, so I’d like to think even someone of my limited social life in high school could’ve definitely banged her.

EMR: It’s sad to think that in the days before Internet porn and randomly hooking up with strangers online, whom you’ve managed to convince you play middle linebacker for the Oakland Raiders (but you’ve spent the entire season on the bench because the coach is an asshole), this was the only tang on offer.

*sigh* Well, it’s either one of these three or Molly Ringwald, I guess.

What the fuck was that exchange between the bear from The Great Outdoors and the gayest department store clerk this side of a San Francisco J.C. Penney’s? Man, the sheer sincerity to that guy’s performance actually made me a little sad. I’m almost going to be disappointed when the Elf shows up to ruin an otherwise pretty watchable Merchant Ivory Christmas movie.


David Strathairn meets George Lucas; remains unimpressed.

TEOS: Did you catch Santa telling that little boy about Nintendos being on sale in the mall basement? Forget Charles Band - I think it’s Victor Salva who’d be suing.

EMR: More concerned that the kid was having a stroke before he replied. Santa likes the boys who fit. They’re paralysed, but they’re still moving around just enough for it to seem like a struggle.

Wait, I think he’s telling every kid that what they want is in the basement. Now all I’m seeing is a damp, stone-wall basement. A solitary lightbulb swings gently under the draft from the rusted air shaft. It illuminates a sad and neglected room, which houses nothing but an old, wire-sprung mattress, its surface stained with rust and dried mucilage.

The children...they know nothing of the horrors that await them.


TEOS: Um, dude-

EMR: Santa slowly descends the rotting staircase into the basement, holding a battered Philips tape deck. A song stutters from the twisted speaker housing, distorted and weak from overuse; it is “I Know What Boys Like” by The Waitresses. The door closes behind him. Nothing now but the damp, and the solitary lightbulb that gently swings under the draft from the rusted air shaft.

“Merry Christmas…” hisses Santa “Do you like hotdogs…?”

“I FEeL nO piTy!!!!!!!” *more hissing*


TEOS: Jesus Christ, dude.

Welp, “goofing on Santa” sure blew up in Keer-stin’s face, in the sense that Santa wanted his Johnson to do the same. “Santa said oral” is my new favorite thing that Santa has ever said.


 Santa's a funny guy, I like him. I hope the Elf kills him...last.


EMR: I’m now starting to see what you mean about Kirsten being '80s hot. At first I was intrigued by her over-sized Guns n’ Roses t-shirt that she sleeps in, and now that I’ve seen her in a deli waitress outfit...I’ll take her down to Paradise City where the grass is green and Sybok releases you from your pain.

Do you think we’ll ever make enough money from doing these reviews to be able to get me the professional help I so desperately need?


TEOS: Once we earn enough taco money, I’m buying us tacos. Then we can worry about whatever mental ailments that haunt you.

So, cunt mother just put Keer-stin's cat into a pillowcase and drowned it in the toilet. Part of me is horrified, but the other part of me still forced to watch this film is envious of that dead wet pussy.


EMR: Dude!

That’s gross...


TEOS: Ouch, that killer elf cut off the pervert Santa’s ball sac? That’s almost as brutal as that time a killer elf cut off my ball sac.


EMR: Hmm, I’m no veteran of being stabbed in the particulars, but I really don’t see it as being that much of a deal. I mean, yeah, sure, it’d hurt like shit, but I’d like to think that it’d feel a little like standing on a tack. Yeah, you could argue that I’ve got no idea how biology works but, honestly, fuck you. I certainly have a better idea than this movie does, because this asshole has been stabbed in the dick, but he’s fallen to the floor and he’s bleeding from his mouth. Even if I claimed that every time I jerked off to screwing Kirsten in her Guns n’ Roses t-shirt and knee-high deli waitress socks, I shot, fucking... blue powder from the tip of my penis, I’d STILL have a better grasp on how biology works than this piece of shit movie.

TEOS: Wow, Keer-stin has had quite a day. She’s groped by a pervert Santa who is later found dead, then goes home to where her cunt mother has drowned her cat and buried it in the backyard. There’s a joke in there somewhere, but in reality, I just feel really bad for her.

Well, that passed. Maybe her spirits will lift by walking into her room to see that her little brother is sniffing her underwear drawer and she’ll be filled with the rejuvenating feeling of knowing at least she’s of use to someone out there, even if it’s in the secretion of vagina scent.


EMR: She’s also being treated as a prime suspect in the brutal Santa-castration-mouth-blood murder. Man, she’s so damaged…

I’ll dance with her Mr. Brownstone.

Anal.


TEOS: After having trouble sleeping, Kirsten hears her stupid cat scratching at the bedroom window, and after shouting his stupidly complicated name (“Agamemnon!” which no one in their right mind would ever name a pet), she springs from her bed to see what is the matter; at her window in a flash, she tears open the shutters, throws up the sash, and sees a stupid monster cat puppet.

I’d describe what the monster cat actually looks like, but this film is darker than Bill Duke’s brow.



EMR: I know, right? Bill Duke’s come-to-bed-eyes imply a menace Bill Cosby can only dream of.

TEOS: After the occurrence, Kirsten’s icy mother wants to know what it was that caused the whole house to awake from screaming.

“It was a troll,” Kristen says, as if it’s the most plausible thing on planet Earth. Obviously no one believes her except her grandfather, who demands to know more about it. “It was a ninja gremlin,” she says, I think jokingly, but now it’s too late: I’m thinking about how much better this film would be if the threat were a ninja gremlin.


EMR: Gramps seems to know something’s awry in the woods and makes mention of it to Kirsten’s mom, who dismisses his concerns as the ramblings of a wheelchair-bound, teutonic crack-pot with a creepy study and chakra crystals. We’ve all got one of those in the family.

I’m a little pissed that we’re not getting to see the picture he’s just shown to Kirsten. My mind immediately went to the Anti-Christmas Nymph from earlier, but an exchange of dialogue between the two of them pretty much confirms he’s talking about the Elf.

So, that means the pencil drawing of the “Anti-Christmas Nymph” is actually “Grandpa’s Jack-off Material.”

Gross.


TEOS: It would appear that this random, old, bearded, beaten-down, John Carl Buechler-looking prick is the new Santa. I guess that’s appropriate. Only now he’s in the backroom wiping baby piss off his pant leg and muttering, and man, I have to tell you, one of my biggest cinema pet peeves is when a character talks to himself for no reason other than to provide necessary exposition to the audience, and even though that’s going on right now, I have to take a step back, do my breathing exercises, and remember that this film is about Nazi elf rapists and I should really just relax.

Plus, we learned a lot about him!

“I’m not a detective anymore. I’ve not even a store detective. I’m Santa. All I have to do is take care of my reindeer.”
Weird soliloquy aside, if he's under the impression that’s all Santa’s responsible for - "taking care of reindeer" - there’s going to be millions of hilariously disappointed children on Christmas morning.

EMR: I love this guy. Like, actually love how earnest he is in his performance. He’s seriously elevating this shit. I think he was brought on board to detract from how suicidally bad this movie is. I wish he’d tell me a story about an old tree or something. He’s like Yaphet Koto in Truck Turner, except this movie has neither asked, nor answered, the question: “How would you feel if Nichelle Nichols dropped the 'Hailing Frequencies open’ schtick and said things like ‘They’d better learn to sell pussy in Iceland because if I ever see them again, I’m gonna cut their fuckin’ throats’?”

Gunnar Hansen has breakfast.

TEOS: It’s taken me 25 minutes, but I’ve finally noticed that the grandfather is a dead ringer for William Forsythe, right down to the awful voice, and the sense that even after 37 showers, this guy would still smell like a pile of assholes at the very bottom of the hamper.

EMR: I always think that about Tom Sizemore. Except that’s probably true.

So, who the fuck are these guys? The Nazi Elf Illuminati? I say that in jest, but I’d join the shit out of that cult if it were real.
 

TEOS: Jesus Christ, did that just fucking happen? Did those words just touch my ear drums? “When there is no more room in hell, the elves will walk the earth?”

Fuck you. I know it was my idea to watch this one for Christmas, but still: fuck you, man.

God. Fuck you.

Sorry. (Fucker.)


EMR: I’m going to chalk this sudden display of negative emotion to the red kryptonite that Grandpa’s been fucking about with for no discernible reason.

The Nazi Elf Illuminati are dropping some serious hints as to the direction in which this is going. I guess this is the part where Damon Lindelof lost interest, left to get something to eat, and ended up having a 40-minute discussion with the kid behind the counter at McDonalds about what he thought the food order would be.


TEOS: Sad Santa, despite his monologue about not being a detective anymore, has decided to detect, so he goes to the library and retrieves a book on mysticism. “In section 666,” the old librarian tells him, and when he responds, “C’mon, that has to be a joke,” she says NOTHING.

What a weirdo.

He flips around this book until he lands on a page that seems to contain both a Nazi symbol AND what could possibly be dinosaurs, so, for the second time while watching this film, I’m immediately envisioning a far better film about something entirely different.

Stop making me disappear inside my own imagination, Elves.


Nazi Dinosaurs: The Movie (dir. Timur Bekmambetov)

EMR: So, the girls have broken back into the department store where Kirsten works and there’s a hilarious comedy-of-errors thing going on with the piece of tape that was left on the edge of the back door to stop it from locking. Kirsten’s worried about “the guys” not being able to join her and the other girls, while Grizzly Adams is about to jimmy the door of its frame with a piece of scrap metal he finds by a dumpster. All the time this is going on, Kirsten’s friends are taking the tape off the door and Kirsten’s having to replace it…

I’ve got to hand it to you, Elves: I thought the only mirth I was going to extrapolate from this movie was the dialogue and the down-syndrome Jim Henson Muppet that’s passing for an elf, but you’ve shown me that I don’t always have to watch “Frasier” to get my yuck fix.
 

TEOS: I...honestly can’t tell if this thing is being retarded on purpose.

A sample of dialogue, if you will:


AMY
(wearing lingerie)
Hey Brook, check this out!

BROOK
What kind of slut dive-suit is that? No...way.

AMY
Way!

BROOK
No way!

AMY
Way!

BROOK
I said “no way!”

AMY
Whatever.

TEOS: I can’t believe this is how teenage girls are purported to talk and I can’t believe how hard I am right now.

EMR: Amy looks like my absolute nightmare in this scene: chicks with small tits and bad faces who want to dress up in Emma Frost Cosplay.

That’s not even a joke. I really fucking hate it.


Her mutant power is slut-dropping.

TEOS: Here’s a fun “guess we shoulda corrected that” error - pains are made to establish that both Sad Santa and these three morons have sneaked into the mall after hours, both for different reasons, but that the one doesn’t know the other is there. Then, Sad Santa peers over the railing at them, mutters to himself, and while he’s walking away, it cuts back to the point of view of the three morons putting on make-up, with him in the background, walking away with very loud, sharp footsteps...and none of the girls “hear” any of it.

EMR: So while the girls are putting on make-up and looking like they’re wearing the kind of clothes the Goodwill store would put in a garbage bag and set on fire in the centre of a salt pentagram, this dynamic exchange happens;

KIRSTEN
I’ve got a new name for us, by the way:
Masters Without Slaves.

BROOK
(Laughs sheepishly)

KIRSTEN
You don’t get it, do you?

BROOK
No.

EMR: Guess what, Kirsten: I don’t fucking get it either.

TEOS: This is a straaaange fucking film.

EMR: Strange because Brook thinks that Grizzly Adams being at the department store after-hours at the same time as them constitutes a “Mexican Stand-off,” or strange because when the girls are talking, they’re making less sense than your average cheese dream about a lactating nipple tree that fires geese at 12th Century Ottoman knights?

TEOS:

Because this film is about killer elves controlled by Nazis. Stupid idiot.

Oh, thank god - the bawdy boyfriends have arrived. Now the film can only get better.


EMR: They’re talking about banging Brook and how the other girls are just nasty or weird or whatever. I’d be offended at the disgusting display of chauvinism if I didn’t agree with them 100%.

TEOS: Okay, we’re forty minutes in and the elf quotient has been severely diminutive. What the fuck - this slather of diarrhea is called ELVES, so where are they?

Is it too late to watch something else? I feel like this film had a killer concept and is totally blowing it. But I also feel like I have to see this piece of shit through to the end to find out if the Nazis can save Christmas (which is my understanding of the plot). Fuck me, I haven’t been this conflicted since the time I watched Sixteen Candles and was reasonably certain I didn’t want to fuck Jake Ryan.


EMR: Have you ever noticed that while we’re watching these and pausing them every so often to insult them (something I like to apply to all walks of my life), you feel like you’ve been watching them for most of your life? Just like when I played too much Resident Evil 4 and thought, whilst walking to catch a bus, regular birds’ nests had coins and other such valuables in them, I keep watching other movies and wondering when Nazis are going to show up and blow Amy’s head off.

TEOS: I THINK Nazis just showed up, and I THINK they just blew Amy’s head off.

EMR: Oh. Okay.

TEOS: For once, the Nazis have done something to benefit us all.

EMR: All things considered, I'd rather them have blown off Brook's head, if only to release the tortured souls of all the My Little Pony's trapped inside.

TEOS: Whoa, first Nazis show up, and THEN the elves make an appearance? That can’t be a coincidence. Finally we’re getting somewhere. Now all we need is a bit more Nazi-ism, Indiana Jones, some John Williams music, a complete lack of everything else in Elves, and finally, for this film to be The Last Crusade, and then I’ll feel like paying attention.

EMR: Sadly, it’s a little bit more like Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, except more watchable.

That was predictable. I’m sorry.
 

TEOS: My turn. Shia Labeouf is a lot like the elf, only he’s the one getting raped.

Tonight’s Special Guest Star: Clint Howard!

TEOS: A Nazi just got into a shooting match with Santa, and while trying to shoot him, shot a Christmas tree instead. I can’t tell if this film is smart OR brilliant.

EMR: Santa’s ducking the shots and he’s behind a counter with Kier-stin while the Nazis shoot fuck into that tree. This looks like the abandoned factory shootout in Total Recall.



Ha! “Get Yule ass to Mars!”


TEOS: Nice! I hear that’s the plan!

Holy shit, Goebbels has made better films than this. Yeah, I know how that sounds. For being about Nazis AND elves, this film is neither stupid nor awesome enough.


EMR: It IS, however, eligible to stand trial at Nuremberg.

More dialogue gems, this time while Sad Santa and Kirsten are being shot at by Nazis:


SAD SANTA
Jesus Christ. Are these the guys you’ve been waiting for?

KIRSTEN
What?

SAD SANTA
Okay, you see those stairs over there…

EMR: I’m all for dialogue being the bridge between audience and rich, fully realised characters, but these lines are just too uncomfortable for me. This whole thing just feels so...so real.

TEOS: Man, first Amy gets killed by Nazis, and then Brook gets done in by the elf. What next, something ridiculous?

EMR: Oh, man! Not Brook! Me and three other guys were going to run a train on her later!
...

Huh! I’ve just done research on that expression and it turns out that it’s not technically a train unless there are 7 or more guys. So, me and those other three guys makes four guys, then we’ve got Santa and, I guess, Grandpa. Do...do you wanna get in on this?


TEOS: No, thank you. But I will beat off to it.

EMR: As a side note, that entire sequence, from when Brook starts getting chased by the Elf, to finally being murdered by the elf, is 100% THE stupidest fucking thing I have ever seen. It’s difficult to work out what exactly was the tipping point from “incompetent” to “disabled.”

TEOS: You know, you’re right about Sad Santa. He really is the only one in this film giving a damn. He’s treating this like he’s reciting works by the bard at Bell’s British Theatre.

EMR: All I want to see is the Sad Santa/Patrick Stewart performance of “Othello.”

Who goes “black face”?

You decide!


TEOS: Looks like both Sad Santa and Kirsten have lost their jobs due to this whole thing involving elves and dead teenage whores.

In a post-firing heart-to-heart, Kristen laments that her parents won’t care about her elf woes. “I care,” says Sad Santa. Then he adds: “Why not call me Mike?”

She responds, “I think I’d rather just call you Santa.”

Ouch. Mike wasn't just shut down, he was taken down so many pegs he has to look up to see ground. Sorry, buddy - there’s always suicide.


EMR: The first and only guy in existence to ever be “Santa-Zoned.”

Props, bro. I get dem feelz.

Kill me.
 

TEOS: I...think we just saw an elf force a sleeping girl to finger him in the mouth. Did you see that, too? And who the fuck was that doing the fingering? There were only three girl characters in this thing and two of them have already met their maker. What the fuck?

EMR: I think it was Brook, man. The only thing you need to worry about is that the elf has taken your place in The Train Gang.

Guess now we know what's in the Colonel's secret recipe.

TEOS: It’s off to the university for Mike Sad Santa, where he meets with a professor who knows an awful lot about elves. Apparently the origin of elves date back to the time of Noah’s Ark, where God’s order of saving all the animals and “all the creeping things” includes - you guessed it - elves. Sad Santa looks as surprised about this as I feel annoyed. But then the professor says the word “Nazis,” so now I care about stuff again.

EMR: I think all that stuff about “hard men, bad women, and the secret occult history of the United States transportation system” was just Nic Pizzolatto blowing smoke up everyone’s ass. THIS is what Season 2 of “True Detective” is really going to be about.

Actually, bad jokes aside, who the FUCK does this broad who’s just bumped into Mike think she is? Man, this film is messing with me. I’m not scared of the Elves or the Nazis. I don’t feel tense. I just feel really, really bad for Mike, and I hope that this Christmas, you’ll open your door for him if he should come knocking looking for a cup of coffee or a used cigarette end.

And this professor at the university is seriously creepy. He looks like Gerard Way didn’t lose the baby weight after fucking Nathan Lane and giving birth to Philip Seymour Hoffman. Plus a lesbian.


TEOS: So far, I’ve learned one thing from Elves: films about murderous elves can be pretty dull.

EMR: Yeah, as usual, I’ve pretty much given up. It’s a strange dichotomy: wanting to spend our valuable time and energy on this raw sewage, but wanting to do normal things like meeting people, or playing racquetball, or talking about “America’s Got Talent” like I care about the contestants. It’s just like my Mom never said to me: “Son, you don’t want to be living with dichotomies in your life,” and she’d have been right, had she ever said that. No one says things like that. Especially not my Mom.

TEOS: Oh, SHIT. Elves just went fucking Chinatown all over the establishment. No wonder Kirsten’s mother is a total bitch-hole: turns out Kirsten’s grandfather is ALSO her father! Surprise aside, I’m also confused, as it doesn’t look like Kristen and her family live anywhere remotely near Kentucky.


EMR: Why do you keep picking films with incest in them? What the hell is wrong with you? Why have I been finding my sister so attractive, recently?

TEOS: I am so in love with this doctor’s breakdown of the two potential histories of Elf Nazism that I can’t stand it. Theory one: elves - perfect soldiers - were used by Nazis as assassins because they can hide in small places and eat very little. Or, theory two: Nazi scientists worked to create an elf/human hybrid, which I guess IS the master race. That already sounds like a downgrade from just a regular human. They’d be shorter, more prone to blow away during a storm, probably a lot more annoying...but there WOULD be an uptick of magic.

Hmm...I guess I can see Hitler’s point.

In order for that to happen, well, this has to happen:

“The elf mates with the perfect virgin on Christmas Eve to produce the master race.”

Holy. Shit.

We finally have the life story of Peter Dinklage.


EMR: I’m pretty sure Sir Lawrence Olivier skipped over this during The World at War. And you know what? I’m pissed about that.

TEOS: "Fucking gross." That’s what hearing grandpa describe the process in which he fucked his own daughter makes me think: "fucking fucking fucking gross."

Although that adds another layer to this whole thing, and also makes me feel only slightly stupid: turns out grandpa’s a kraut, not a Jew. The only reason I don’t feel completely stupid is because this actor is really shitty.

With this new revelation, I guess this means he’s a former Nazi! I still feel a little embarrassed that I thought he was Jewish. Did you pick up on that when he spoke?


EMR: No man, I can never hear what a German is saying over the sound of him marching into Poland.

TEOS: Haha, oh man. The gods are going to take away our Internet card for that one.

Okay look: I confess. Right around the time that Sad Santa found the fucking dynamite in his car, I let the video keep playing while I went to refill my drink, take a leak, have a really awkward encounter with a fellow employee who asked me if I’d ever gotten shots to prevent shingles, then went back to my video to see some intense strobe-lighting and Sad Santa saying, “We gotta get out of here - the elf’s here.”

I missed so much, and at the same time, absolutely nothing.


"Heh heh, I can't WAIT to blow all these guys."

EMR: The only thing you really missed was Kirsten’s Cunt Mom running a bath for herself, but putting lipstick on before stepping into the tub. She thinks she’s so fucking high and mighty, but what kind of an imbecile puts lipstick on JUST before they get in the bath? The last time I saw a movie where a woman did that, I was filming it.

You also missed Sad Santa punching one of the Nazis so hard that his teeth turned into tooth paste. No wonder he was thrown off the force.


TEOS: I take it back. EVERYONE in this film is taking it way too seriously, not just Sad Santa. I think the only people who knew this thing was actually a comedy was the audience.

EMR:  No, man, no; this is deadly serious. If Kirsten is the product of unholy union between Tom Sizemore and Helen Mirren menopause, who the fuck is the father of Kirsten’s brother? He’s a creepy little son of a bitch, too, because he’s just told Sad Santa not to break the torch that he’s handed to him. Why the fuck would he say something like that to a stranger?

TEOS: Haha, ohhhh….I was wrong. According to Nazi math, elf + human ≠ elfman. Elf + human = the antichrist. How come YOU didn’t know that?

EMR: DON’T make me cry at Christmas. You still haven’t forgiven me for Zombie Lake back in June, have you?

There’s something about Grandpa’s explanation that makes it so...matter of fact. It’s not just Nazi Elves, it’s the anti-christ.

Shit, okay. If you say so.

For whatever reason, Grandpa’s pulled open the book that has the anti-Christmas Nymph in it and now he’s drawing swastika’s on her tits like there was a pattern there that we never saw before. You’re literally just drawing swastikas on her tits, man. You’re not Frank Miller. You’re a crazy old asshole in a wheel-chair who fucked his own daughter to bring about the end of days…

Actually, that's Frank Miller.


TEOS: I swear, there’s only been "twenty minutes" left in the running time for what’s felt like the last twelve days of Christmas.

EMR: Maybe when this is done, me and you can do something for Twelfth Night. It's a Pagan thing, so it's completely acceptable for me to pack your asshole with Jif and call you Grand Master Meatspurt.

TEOS: aka Tuesday.

“What is that, a stone?” Sad Santa asks while looking at...a stone.

“It’s an elf stone!” replies crabby grandpa.

You know, let’s all agree that everything in Elves world should just be preceded by the word “elf” now, okay? Things will go a lot faster.

“Wanna order some elf pizza?”  “Hold the elf anchovies!”  “I hope they send that hot elf delivery kid!”  “I think I need to have an elf abortion.”


I could keep going, but this is a terrible joke.

EMR: This fucking doesn't deserve better jokes. We're giving it Bill Hicks when all it really deserves is Denis Leary.

TEOS: Why do these old Nazis keep professing their love to Kirsten? And why does this one Nazi in the trench-coat, when he says “Calm down! Calm down!” sound exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger? Why isn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger IN something like this when he’s already done Jingle All the Way to us? Why aren't we just watching Arnold Schwarzenegger right now?

Hey, who are you?


EMR: Watching him in his hey-day or watching him slowly losing his mind on social media? Hey, you know what I'm calling the new Terminator movie? Terminator: Genital Cyst.

TEOS: Do you think when the director was shooting this piece of shit, he said, “I don’t want the audience to see a fucking thing"?

EMR: Only if the audience's psychic torment wasn't the only way he could sustain an erection long enough to fuck his wife, yes.

TEOS: I think Kirsten just said, “I can feel the elf inside me.” Dear god, I am so hard right now.

EMR: That's replaced "Avengers Assemble!" as my ejaculation cry, from now on. Now all I need is a girlfriend...

TEOS: Shit, someone sent me a video of some dude being run over by a subway train and I missed the whole ending to Elves. What happened?

EMR: Was it the subway train bomb scene from Die Hard With a Vengeance? Because, let me tell you, that film IS the bomb. I often think, and we've spoken about this before, that if Fox must insist on making new Die Hard movies, give the next one to McTiernan. Bring the franchise home, y'know? As fans and appreciators of that man's work, we need to get the bad taste of Rollerball out of our mouths. Everyone always goes on about the law of diminishing returns; DHWAV, in my opinion, holds its own against the original. And the original is the best Christmas movie ever made. You know what? I'm gonna go and put those movies on right now. Are we done here? Has this film finished?

TEOS: It must be. I'm watching Exit Wounds now. Yeah, with Seagal.

EMR: Merry Christmas, I guess.

No comments:

Post a Comment