Hello Yellow, America! Step right up for another dose of Entertainment Police love, and just see if you don't come away with a lump in your throat or breast. Like our forefathers and foremothers before us, pointing their forefingers in a vague gesture of thanks, we're here to give thanks that the holiday movie season is finally upon us. Just as the pilgrims gave thanks that they wouldn't have to sit through any more Indian "coming of age" tales or movies about animal spirits walking around and shitting everywhere, we give our thanks that the big budget movies are finally here. The food industry may try to convince you that you're happy this Thanksgiving because you're eating dried out turkey with your hideous in-laws, but we all know better than that. That smile on your face can be directly traced back to seeing Stephen Segal kick that guy's ass with a Christmas tree. So without further delay, let's get to the late November movie releases.


In Theaters



Adam Sandler's Eight Crazy Nuts

Eventually, gross-out humor in the movies had to go too far, alienating even the retarded adolescents and middle-aged pro wrestling fans who have made it a goldmine for studios and Tom Green over the last decade. It looks like Adam Sandler may be the one left holding the hot potato when that song stops, because his new film is so over-the-top it makes There's Something About Marty look like Dating the Mormon Way. This time around, Sandler plays an annoying, mealy-mouthed loser named Sadam Andler who has his mother's penny-pinching passion for Mexican pharmaceuticals to thank for the fertility pills that caused him to be born with eight testicles. Sandler milks those extra nuts for all the comedy they're worth, including a nauseating mix-up involving a blind man buying grapes at a produce stand, not to mention Andler's gut-wrenching hazing at the hands of the Chinese ping pong team. If you had to say something good about the film, I guess you'd point out that it's animated, which saves us from any disturbingly realistic nutsack textures. And that's more than enough reason for me to give thanks this year.

Diet Another Day

Bond's apparently getting a little chunky in the ass section these days, as was bound to happen eventually. It's tough to keep the pounds off after 40, even if you are a super-secret limey sex machine. Pierce Bronson squeezes his lumpy can into the penguin suit for one more go-around as he saves the world from rich idiots once again and tries to get into Chuck Berry's daughter's pants. I suppose it's about as good as the last 87 Bond films, but I have to admit it leaves stretch marks on the torso of believability at times. So you're telling me that the Ministry of Spy Shit can outfit 007 with a cell phone built into a tic-tac no problem, but they can't get their hands on some Fen-Phen for this guy? Please.

Extreme P.O.S.

Truth in advertising is a concept that rarely applies to movie titles, as evidenced by such famously misleading crocks as Babe and Naked Lunch. But every once in a while Hollywood spits out an appropriately named flick just to draw in the curious, like Knock Off or Senseless. Well, as Britney Spears would say: "Shit, They've Done It Again." Aiming at the same audience that tapes Mountain Dew commercials, the producers put together a cast of albino piercing models to snivel their way through an hour and a half of weakly justified snowboarding stunts and truly horrible music. Originally titled Duuude!, the producers eventually decided to hedge their bets by giving the film a heavily ironic title, figuring it might give them a shot at Sundance and betting that Generation Ysters wouldn't notice, anyway.

The Friday After Next Friday

Apparently the original title, Two Weeks From Now didn't make it clear enough that this was a sequel to Ice Cube's stinky horror flick I Still Know What You'll Do Next Friday, though you'd think that would be a good thing. If I were them, I'd call it Ain't No Way This is a Sequel to That Shitball, which might cause some translation problems when they release the film in Singapore, since I hear they eat shitballs there. Hey, when in Rome. In the long run, it probably doesn't matter what they call it, since it'll be on Beta in about two weeks. Every once in a while a movie does so poorly they skip the DVD and VHS releases all together and put it out straight to Betamax, figuring that the poor suckers with those types of VCRs will buy anything to try and recoup their entertainment investment. Usually they reserve that honor for Tim Allen movies, but I see them branching out in this case, trying to make inroads into the "found this thing in the dumpster" demographic.

Wes Craven Presents: They…

It's always sad when an artist dies in the middle of a project, leaving us to wonder what might have been had they not opted to crap out early and cheat us out of something that might have been great. Who knows what funny things John Belushi might have yelled, or how fat Jim Morrison might have got, had they not been taken from us so soon. Less compellingly, but more relevant to this review, who knows what horrormeister Wes Craven would have called his last film? He managed to finish the film but kicked off before he could finish naming it, leaving us to wonder what the proper title would have been. They're Invisible But Sound Scary As Hell? They Look Like Throw Rugs But They Eat Your Feet? They're Right Behind You, Dipwad!? The possibilities are endless, and the movie's no help because it's awful, but who knows how good it could have been with the right title?



And that's all she wrote, ladies and gender-neutrals. Check back next issue when we hit the sweet spot between Thanksgiving and Christmas and marvel at all the wonders scheduled for release within. By the way, for those of you have been asking, word is that word on the street is that Margaret Cho's Thanksafuckinglotgiving has been delayed once again, look for that to hit theaters in April.

November 11, 2002
What's the haps, America? Like all other entertainophiles out there I was glued to the TV for the Winona Ryder trial. Who could believe they would find her guilty, just because they had her on tape and caught her in a few lies? Let the message go... (11/11/02)

October 28, 2002
Hello hello, America!

Boy have we got some nipples for you this week! I ca- nipples? You know what I mean, America, movies. Weird. Some people think it's significant when you nip out like that, ma- slip up, nip rocks, whatever. It's not like... (10/28/02)

October 14, 2002
Come quick, America, you've got to see this. Okay, well, maybe not, but the quicker we get to the movie reviews the quicker Roland McShyster can get back to the high-powered binoculars he picked up for a dollar at a yard sale. These things are... (10/14/02)

September 30, 2002
Happy Birthday, America!

Yeah, I know it's a little late, but some crackhead stole my Dayplanner, so what can you do? We've got eight different kinds of fun coming your way from Entertainment Policeland today, so I hope you're ready. No, that's... (9/30/02)

September 16, 2002
Howdy Doody, America.

I'm sorry folks. That was just a pathetic attempt to sound upbeat. I should give you people more credit than that. We all know where we find ourselves, plum in the middle of the doggy-style days of autumn, a movie... (9/16/02)