Just the Ticket #68: Grown-Ups 2, the Sequel-itis Continues
My zombie novel is becoming slow work (I'm only on page 12 at this point, as I re-write the damned thing every time I make progress on it), and I keep losing confidence in it as a novel, opting temporarily for screenplay (which I have even less experience in than novelization) and comic book (though my artistic skills are strongly outweighed by my vision and tendency toward dialog and excessive description) as alternative mediums of expression.
I am currently going through the rigamarole of upgrading from my four-year-old slider phone to a smartphone so that when I feel struck by inspiration, I can speak my ideas and save them in text format for later use.
I'm also toying with the idea of compiling a book of my reviews for limited release to pose to the book club I attend with some of my co-workers on a semi-regular monthly basis. It is a huge undertaking, as I have roughly 9 years of material to go back through.
Quick note: Kudos (Cliff, Quaker Chewy, Balance, and Nature Valley, among others) to the folks at Yahoo! for getting their shift together regarding the new layout of Yahoo! Groups so that I can still go through my old posts there for re-printing on Blogger (and in my compilation book that is to come).
It has come to my attention that the only reason for traffic in the Ticketverse (other than the few word of mouth readerships I may or may not have established last year--I can't know for sure--by pimping myself out at the video counter) is whether or not the title, an actor's name, or a popular catch-phrase appears in the headline of any given post. In this latest string of Ticketverse posts, I shall unfortunately sell out to the man, favoring bland statements of the obvious rather than my usual brand of creativity and epic statements of events written herein. So without much further ado about anything else, onto the featured review of Grown-Ups 2.
Sequel-itis is still a serious condition that causes many a Hollywood hero to bend to the uncreative machinations of his favorite genre, and nowhere is it more apparent than in the lowluster schlockbuster sequel to Happy Madison's (leading man Adam Sandler's production company) Grown-Ups.
The original stayed true to the Happy Madison formula, featuring mildly inappropriate gags, selections from Sandler's pool of favorite guest stars, and a wife/girlfriend-to-be (Selma Hayek this time) who is too hot for him, while venturing into the tasteful, heartwarming world of childhood friendship everlasting.
But from its opening scene (Sandler and family being alternately chased and urinated upon by what can only be described as a so-poorly-rendered-it-looks-like-it's-made-of-plastic-but-it's-really-just-the-best-use-of-3D-technology-Happy-Madison-could-afford deer), to David Spade vomiting in a giant tire, to a balding kid (not to mention his equally follicly-challenged parents played by Tim Meadows and Wanda Sykes) that makes me find Urkel more appealing by comparison, to a close-up of Andy Samberg's soapy crotch, to a pointless, mindless battle-royale third act, Grown-Ups 2 is barely worth the disk it's recorded on, much less its rental or--God forbid you make this mistake--sale price. There are some gem performances amid this ugly pile of coal, urine, puke, and burp-snarts that nicely fill the void between gag-inducing gags (Steve Buscemi spouting anti-white cliches while dressed as Flavor Flav? Priceless!), but when the standouts in any movie are Shaquille O'Neal, "Stone Cold" Steve Austin, and Taylor Lautner (the werewolf guy from Twilight), you're better off watching something a bit more Grown Up.
I'll continue the Sequel-itis next time with a review of the newest installment in the Chucky franchise, and wrap things up with a double-feature on destroying the White House. Stay tuned.
I am currently going through the rigamarole of upgrading from my four-year-old slider phone to a smartphone so that when I feel struck by inspiration, I can speak my ideas and save them in text format for later use.
I'm also toying with the idea of compiling a book of my reviews for limited release to pose to the book club I attend with some of my co-workers on a semi-regular monthly basis. It is a huge undertaking, as I have roughly 9 years of material to go back through.
Quick note: Kudos (Cliff, Quaker Chewy, Balance, and Nature Valley, among others) to the folks at Yahoo! for getting their shift together regarding the new layout of Yahoo! Groups so that I can still go through my old posts there for re-printing on Blogger (and in my compilation book that is to come).
It has come to my attention that the only reason for traffic in the Ticketverse (other than the few word of mouth readerships I may or may not have established last year--I can't know for sure--by pimping myself out at the video counter) is whether or not the title, an actor's name, or a popular catch-phrase appears in the headline of any given post. In this latest string of Ticketverse posts, I shall unfortunately sell out to the man, favoring bland statements of the obvious rather than my usual brand of creativity and epic statements of events written herein. So without much further ado about anything else, onto the featured review of Grown-Ups 2.
Sequel-itis is still a serious condition that causes many a Hollywood hero to bend to the uncreative machinations of his favorite genre, and nowhere is it more apparent than in the lowluster schlockbuster sequel to Happy Madison's (leading man Adam Sandler's production company) Grown-Ups.
The original stayed true to the Happy Madison formula, featuring mildly inappropriate gags, selections from Sandler's pool of favorite guest stars, and a wife/girlfriend-to-be (Selma Hayek this time) who is too hot for him, while venturing into the tasteful, heartwarming world of childhood friendship everlasting.
But from its opening scene (Sandler and family being alternately chased and urinated upon by what can only be described as a so-poorly-rendered-it-looks-like-it's-made-of-plastic-but-it's-really-just-the-best-use-of-3D-technology-Happy-Madison-could-afford deer), to David Spade vomiting in a giant tire, to a balding kid (not to mention his equally follicly-challenged parents played by Tim Meadows and Wanda Sykes) that makes me find Urkel more appealing by comparison, to a close-up of Andy Samberg's soapy crotch, to a pointless, mindless battle-royale third act, Grown-Ups 2 is barely worth the disk it's recorded on, much less its rental or--God forbid you make this mistake--sale price. There are some gem performances amid this ugly pile of coal, urine, puke, and burp-snarts that nicely fill the void between gag-inducing gags (Steve Buscemi spouting anti-white cliches while dressed as Flavor Flav? Priceless!), but when the standouts in any movie are Shaquille O'Neal, "Stone Cold" Steve Austin, and Taylor Lautner (the werewolf guy from Twilight), you're better off watching something a bit more Grown Up.
I'll continue the Sequel-itis next time with a review of the newest installment in the Chucky franchise, and wrap things up with a double-feature on destroying the White House. Stay tuned.
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