The Passion of Darkly Noon

This movie isn't good, and I don't advocate watching the whole thing. I only watched it because Viggo's in it, and it wasn't available on video back in the mid-90s when I was going through my "I'll watch anything Viggo's been in regardless of how terrible it is" phase. (Hm, maybe it wasn't a phase 'cuz I am still doing it.)

Like most movies featuring a pre-Aragorn Viggo, he doesn't show up until halfway through, so I was sitting there with ants in my pants for 45 minutes anticipating his appearance. Viggo plays "Clay," the live-in paramour of half-naked ho-bag Ashley Judd. It's 1995 (the same year as his lusty turn in Crimson Tide), so Viggo's lookin' hottttt. But here's the catch: Clay is mute. He doesn't freakin' speak. So Viggo is limited to communicating via whistling, sticking out his tongue (pictured), and sticking his tongue down Ashley Judd's throat (not pictured.)

Brendan Fraser has the titular role of Darkly Noon, a recently-orphaned Bible freak/cult survivor who is taken in by Ashley Judd. SPOILER ALERT! Here's a picture of how the movie ends:

Yes, that is Brendan Fraser, painted red and wrapped in barbed wire. He is spying on Viggo and Ashley having SEX. 'Nuff said I think.

Bastards of the Party

This 2005 documentary aired on HBO and played a couple of festivals, but was otherwise overlooked, which is a shame. Directed by former gang banger Cle Sloan, Bastards of the Party presents a decade-by-decade history of South Central L.A.'s African-American street gangs, from their unassuming origins in 1950s, to the aftermath of the Black Panther Party's demise in the 70s, to the unprecedented "black-on-black violence" of the 90s.

Interviews with Sloan himself provide most of the audio track, which -- given his long-standing personal history as a member of the Athens Park Bloods -- humanizes the conflict and lends a shit-ton of credence. He also speaks with black community leaders, OGs (that's original gangsters in layman's terms), and City of Quartz author Mike Davis, whose book inspired Sloan to begin his critical inquiry into the roots of his neighborhood's gangs. (City of Quartz was required reading for one of my intro Anthropology classes in college. Now I kind of wish I'd actually read it.)

What I liked about this documentary (in contrast to the more exploitative "A&E" or "True Hollywood Story"-types of street gang docs) is that it doesn't sensationalize any aspect of the life. It acknowledges the violence, the drugs, the money, the power-- but its core message is one of reform. It's not "Hey, look how hard we are!" but instead, "Look at how fucked up we are. Here's how it's happening and why. Now how can we start to fix it?"

Sloan's inexperience as a filmmaker shows, especially in the frenetic editing, which moves from soundbite to soundbite so quickly that it's often difficult to digest what's being said. But his charisma and ability to talk sense are what makes this film work. The soundtrack is pretty dope, too.

Gordon's Great Escape: India

Episodes 1 - 3

If your only exposure to Chef Gordon Ramsay has been through loathsome American shows like Hell's Kitchen, then you are sorely missing out. Unlike the one-note hothead he plays on FOX, Ramsay's actually got some depth to him, and is likable as hell. We already know that he is incredibly passionate about cooking. What I loved about this series, which follows him on a culinary journey throughout several regions of India, is that it highlights his remarkable ability to connect with all people, regardless of status or language, through a shared love of food. (Given Ramsay's intense pottymouth, it's probably better that most of the people he meets don't have a full command of English.)

His main reason for coming to India, Ramsay says, is to grow his skills as a chef. He's always loved curry ("Britain's Favourite Dish"), but has a nagging feeling that what Britons recognize as biryani and korma are dumbed-down perversions of the real thing. And from what we see here, he'd be right.

Gordon's travels take him from Delhi and Lucknow in northern India, to the remote northeastern states of Assam and Nagaland, to Mumbai and on to the southern states of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. Not only does he eat in all of these places-- he cooks, too. Whether he's learning to prepare sambar from a master street chef in the Dharavi Slums, or concocting an original Indian feast for Bollywood stars and dignitaries, Ramsay puts his ass on the line again and again.

Indeed, Chef Ramsay's cajones are on full display here. (Um, not literally. Although he does at one point wear a rather flimsy muslin kurta that barely grazes his knees.) What I mean is, dude is ballsy. He makes Anthony Bourdain look like a spineless wimp. Whereas Tony whines when his No Reservations producers force him into things like roller skating and surfing, Gordon gleefully volunteers himself for stunts that are truly crazy. Like Bull Surfing in Kerala. Or facing off against dozens of Indian housewives in a cooking competition. Or "tapping" a palm tree for toddy by shimmying up its trunk with a tea towel between his feet. (One thing Tony does have over Gordon is a fondness for the drink. In one scene, Gordon spits out a mouthful of the esophogas-searing palm wine and asks his fixer, "Are you trying to fucking kill me?")

That's my favorite thing about Gordon -- he is an open book. There's no onscreen brooding or ironical, self-deprecating voiceover. His honest response to most situations he's faced with in India is "Oh shit" or "Shit shit shit shit." But he says it with a smile on his face, and while you're watching him, you're sure to have one on yours, too.

Telechubby’s Back -- Now with 100% Fewer Commercials!

Sometime around the spectacle of the 2011 Super Bowl, I overdosed on television.

My enthusiasm for pop culture crack had started to wane in the months prior. First I grew tired of my so-called "favorite" TV show, Fringe. I couldn't make it through an entire episode without dozing off or getting up to wash the dishes-- a very bad sign. Then I spaced part 2 of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Reunion Special. Where was my head?! No longer concerned about Lisa, Adrian, and Kyle apparently. Soon even House Hunters International seemed cumbersome and predictable.

At the same time, our cable bill was skyrocketing out of control, especially considering our meager income(s).

Most significantly, every commercial was a ball of tin foil scraping against the enamel of my molars.

This confluence of circumstances led to what once would have been unthinkable for a pair of TV junkies: we gave Comcast the heave-ho. And since our television is a relic from the analog days, we don't get network stations. No ABC, CBS or PBS. No signal. Not even snow.

Since then, I've lost all interest in celebrities (except for you, Viggo.) I no longer browse (let alone buy!) tabloid magazines because I don't know who those spindly orange people inside are. With no TV schedule to hold me prisoner, I've found time to read books.

But do not despair, fair reader! This is not a blog about books.

We are now reborn as TV Streamers. Thanks to a tiny black box known as a Roku, we can stream Netflix (and other free and paid entertainment options) directly to our Idiot Box for the low-low price of $7.99/month. No TV Guide Channel. No 24-hour news networks. And best of all, NO COMMERCIALS!

With a cornucopia of options to "Watch Instantly," and so many of our friends going cable-free, I need a platform from which to share my good and bad streams. British Sketch Comedies? Check. Obscure Documentaries? Check. Forgotten 80s Sitcoms? Check. The requisite New Releases? Check. If I'm watching it, you're reading about it on Telechubby, new and improved after its tummy-tuck. Less fat, more definition!