A short look at Last Hour

3 YEARS AGO… NEW YORK CITY

A shiny black Cadillac is parked in the middle of the street. The reflection in the driver’s side door reveals an ambulance not far away. A wet-eyed little girl sits in the back of the car, looking at a dead man in the driver’s seat. A gray-haired gentlemen sits dead next to him. A police officer quietly approaches the vehicle, opens the door, and takes the girl to the back of the ambulance.

Intrigued by the opening scene? Then you really need to start paying attention, because this movie will not serve you the answers on a silver platter. Starring tough-guy Michael Madsen, ganster rapper DMX, post-mordem sex icon David Carradine, and a couple of nobodies, Last Hour will have even the most clever viewers scratching their heads along the way. You may find it in the Action section, with the word “EXPLOSIVE” printed on the back of the case, but trust me, its also one heck of a mystery! Next scene…

PRESENT DAY, HANGER NEAR MEXICAN BORDER

A greasy, long-haired man stands alone under a spotlight. It’s night time. A truck pulls up in front of a row of parked cars, releasing a dozen or more immigrants from its cargo box. They clamour to get inside the waiting vehicles. Three well-dressed men walk up to the greasy mullet, and hand him a case. A dense, hardly-discernible European accent speaks.

“I still can’t figure out how you did that trick, Monk. We’re been trying to do that for 10 years. No success. And believe me, we know all the powerful people in America.”

“Yeah? I got a few friends myself,” replies the ever-raspy Michael Madsen, simply owning that tangled wig.

The Monk

After a short, incomprehensible exchange of words, the character “Monk” flashes a revolver and the three men walk away. Now free to speak their native tongue, we read as one of them asks for permission to “take care of him”. The case-handler calmly answers with a question of his own:

“Do you know why they call him Monk?”

People stand during seated concert

I don’t know how commonly this happens, but I went to a Matthew Good concert the other day and took my seat, only to be forced into standing before first song even played, all the way to the end.

Everyone stayed sitting during the opening band, which was nice, but once the main band hit the stage it was like one of those stupid “waves” people used to do — except it didn’t go back down. From what I could piece together it was due to a flood of losers running to the stage/their seats, forcing those who were already sitting down to stand up and let them past. The people behind them wanted to see the band so they stood up, which happened to each subsequent row in turn. Either that, or the people in the first row couldn’t see past the “Hey look at me I’m dancing completely off-rhythm in front of the stage” people, and thus decided to ruin it for everyone else too. Clearly the floor was not sloped steeply enough in any case.

My companions and I were (as usual) the last ones to partake in the silliness, but you can only stare at a row of drunk douchebag’s faded-jean asses for so long until you have to stand up and check out the band you paid to see. Thankfully, this is where our Grade-A Canadian Apathy becomes so useful.

I declare the Standing During a Seated Concert Experience to be Level 2 Badness.

PS. Matthew, I’m sorry if shouting “MORE POLKA!” before your wonderful performance of “Apparitions” was bad timing on my part. I just couldn’t take the awkward silence.

Comically Bad begins

Today our humble opinion journal is born.

It’s hard to contain the emotions right now, sitting in my brand new Bonded Leather Manager’s Chair, gazing into the future with so many expectations and fears. Will we ever reach a hundred visits? Will we make more than 2 posts? Will the world collapse before our first anniversary? It’s a little overwhelming.

We boldly go forward, into the Comically Bad.