Yoho, America. It hasn't exactly been a pirate's life for Roland McS lately, though I did get seasick the other day after taking a nap on a friend's waterbed. Okay, you caught me in a lie there; I didn't actually know the guy. But this isn't a column about my recent Goldilocks antics, though I'm sure many a pirate wandered into the wrong apartment (or boat) and slept in some stranger's bed until they were awoken by an insane Chicano woman waving a pool cue. No, I seem to remember this column having something to do with movie reviews, and taking the best and brightest Hollywood has to offer and exposing it to the harsh, shit-flinging light of day. That's what pays the bills, anyhow. Let's take another stab at that flabby Hollywood ass, shall we?


In Theaters Now:

The Grunge
According to urban legend, when an Alterna-rocker dies in a fit of angst, his or her soul carries on to haunt the living in suspenseful and self-pityingly gothic ways. That's what I heard from the guy down at Kinko's, anyway, and apparently the suits down at Columbia Pictures talked to the same guy and decided to make a movie out of it. So leave it to Generation Y to clean up the lazy, ironic messes their older Generation X siblings left behind, as forever teen Sarah Michelle Gellar takes on The Grunge using nothing but her innate spunk and a spray bottle of spunk remover.

The film's mood and suspense were first-rate, since I didn't believe that Gellar would ever be able to get Layne Staley out of those drapes. Though I did have to question the film's inclusion of Blind Melon frontman Shannon Hoon, since that guy had about as much angst as the frothy head on a cappuccino. But I admit it did give them a decent excuse to bring that terrifying bee girl back from the grave. I don't know about you, but this is one film reviewer who won't be putting honey on his corn flakes for months.

Ralphie
Jude Law stars in this unlikely sequel to the much beloved 80's classic A Christmas Story, the harrowing tale of a school shooter's childhood years in a dysfunctional Midwestern family. Loved though the original film was, few were demanding a sequel, unless they were demanding it in a private, secret shame kind of way. I sure as hell never heard them. Jesus, you think you know people.

Regardless, they did make a sequel, this one taking place twenty years after the original, which follows an adult poon-hound Ralphie on his rounds through high society. Law's tender narration is a little grating this time around, since he's mostly talking about how much he wants to scrooge some dilettante, and frankly it's a little confusing at times since Law is all grown up now, so he and his mental narrator use the same voice. It might have been best to find a really old Jude Law sound-alike to do the voice-over narration, to reduce the confusion and possibly to add a touch of poetic perspective to the young Law's desperate ass fancy.

Teen America Womb Police
Those screwballs behind the R-rated antics of the Peanuts gang are at it again, only this time they're at something totally unrelated to what they did before, so it's not really "again." Sorry for the confusion. This time they're taking on the world of puppetry like a bee sting in the penis. Cashing in their two cents on America's hysterical reaction to the teen pregnancy epidemic, Teen America Womb Police finally gives Sly Stone and Peter Parker a chance to show the world what they think crappy marionettes say about the current state of our union.

If you're not a fan of the Morning After pill (or its generic equivalents, the Lost Weekend pill and the What the Fuck Happened? pill), let me warn you that you may come away offended. Also, if you happen to have a problem with violent gay sex with polar bears, you might want to leave shortly after the opening credits. And a note to my friends over at the Parent Alert movie ratings site: this is not the film to see with your fragile Catholic mother. As for me, Roland McShyster tends to fall into the Keep Your Laws Off My Body camp (unless we're talking about Jude Law, then I say Bring It On), so I wasn't nearly as offended as the little girl sitting to my right who threw up during the polar bear rape scene.


That's it, America. Fuck off, you've overstayed your welcome.

October 18, 2004
Good morrow, gentlefolk. I have just returned from my bi-monthly excursion to the Clatterton, New Jersey Renaissance Festival and I mourn the loss of medieval times. Even more so, I curse the inventions of televisions and motion pictures. What... (10/18/04)

October 4, 2004
Buenos Nachos, Americanos, it's time for another weekly injection of the Entertainment Police serum. Hope you've all been good boys and girls out there in boy and girl-land, I don't really have the technology to follow up on that in order to deny... (10/4/04)

September 20, 2004
Do they even release movies to the theaters anymore? Each week it becomes more difficult to find a DVD release to review that wasn't a movie released years ago. And of those, it's even harder to find one that wasn't re-released on DVD with removed... (9/20/04)

September 6, 2004
Booya, America. I'm not sure what that means, but it seemed appropriate. Whatever sentiment that expressed, you can file it in triplicate because Roland McShyster's in a good mood today. Good? Nay, agreeable! I've seen the proverbial bluebird of... (9/6/04)

August 23, 2004
I do not feel chatty today, unwashed reading masses. A certain boil in a location I will not describe has chosen this week for its uprising. I'm typing this column standing up, and that always makes me a little lightheaded. Fortunately, even a... (8/23/04)