It was night again. Edward Lorn lay in discomfort, and it was a discomfort of three parts…
(Extra points go to the people who know where I stole that opening line from. And yes, I edited it to suit my needs.)
I want to talk about good, bad, and unbearable levels of discomfort. I hear you asking, “There’s a good way to feel discomfort?” And my answer is, “Yes, I believe so.” If not, then how do you explain BDSM, torture porn, and Sasha Baron Cohen fans?
To open the discussion, I would like to talk about…
…how completely unbearable Bad Ass was. The acting was awkward and the writing was terri-bad, so terri-bad that I had to invent the word “terri-bad” to describe it. The odd part about this film is, the budget is nonexistent, but they could somehow afford CGI blood. Do you know how cheap red food coloring and corn syrup is? It has to be cheaper than computer imagery of any kind.
The discomfort of Bad Ass is truly unbearable, and there is no better evidence of this fact than when poor, beautiful Joyful Drake is on screen with Danny Trejo’s hundred-year-old ass. I just checked IMDB and it says that Joyful was born in 1976. That’s four years before me. She’s not even forty yet. And here, in this pile of shit, they have her as Trejo’s love interest. It’s forced. It’s awkward. And it’s uncomfortable for all parties involved. It feels pervy, and mostly because Joyful looks a lot younger than she is. Poor Danny Trejo even looks uncomfortable. At least they didn’t make her kiss him.
The film has a climax involving a train hitting a bus. The train is obviously from a child’s train set. I will not even attempt to go over how fucking insane the happenstance is that both the protag and the antag end up in a high-speed bus chase.
And to the person who asked, my apologies, because Danny Trejo does not remove his shirt in this film. Due to this unfortunate non-happening, I cannot adequately review his tattoos. I can only imagine he kept his shirt on because he’s become a bit pudgy since The Devil’s Rejects. #manboobs.
Which brings me to…
…how bad the discomfort of The Devil’s Rejects actually is. I’ve seen this film numerous times, and I consider it Rob Zombie’s best film. Just recently, I rewatched it. I’m not disturbed by much these days, but this film still gets under my skin. The scene in the hotel room, when Priscilla Barnes (Terri from Three’s Company) is made to strip, disgusts me. It makes me uncomfortable to the point that I need to skip ahead. The first time I watched the movie in theaters, I had to close my eyes.
This isn’t the same kind of discomfort as Bad Ass because me being unsettled is the point. Zombie meant for me to feel the way I do when I watch this film. Still, it is too much to bear in some spots, and I hate missing sections of a movie due to my comfort level. I feel cheated. The only other movie to upset me more than The Devil’s Rejects is A Serbian Film. I do not suggest anyone look that one up. Two words: Infant rape. That movie will never be okay, and the people who consider it art shouldn’t be allowed within 500 feet of schools or playgrounds.
Speaking of restraining orders…
…how can I get one for a person whom I’ve never met? Because I kinda don’t want Jake Gyllenhaal anywhere near me… ‘kay? ‘Kay.
Nightcrawler is the best kind of discomfort money can buy. It’s intense and creepy and unsettling and disturbing and it makes you wonder if Jake Givemhell is acting. Like, I completely believe he’s this guy. I hope Jake Gonorrhea makes another movie soon so I can see him in a different light, because Jake Gomorrah is scary as fuck to me at the moment.
The ending of Nightcrawler is a wee bit unbelievable, but it didn’t really detract from my overall experience. If I had to rate it, I’d still give it a solid five stars based on Jake Gaondpivbiwebfvevqiebfvliaehbvsd’s performance alone. I haven’t had this much fun being uncomfortable in a long-ass time.
So there you have it, ladies and gents, a discomfort of three parts. I’m tired of reviewing the same way all the time. I hope you enjoyed reading this change of pace as much as I did creating it.
In summation: Forget Netflix, buy Nightcrawler and store it safely in your Bluray/DVD/Digital library for multiple future viewings. Catch The Devil’s Rejects while it’s on Netflix and see if the aforementioned scene bothers you as much as it does me. And if you ever come across a physical copy of Bad Ass, do the world a favor and set fire to the fucking thing. At the very least, don’t watch it on Netflix. Keep your loved ones away from it too. Friends don’t let friends watch Bad Ass.
Final Judgments: One of these things is not like the others.