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 the latest movie reviews to those of you who have been bad, so I guess we'll just have to keep on with the honor system on that one. You bad ones, you know who you are, you miserable fucks. And I bet you feel just awful poaching the straight world's movie-reviewing good time. You should. As for the rest of you, sorry for that ugliness, but now let's get on to the new releases!


In Theaters Now:

The Forgotten
Sure, I'll be the first to admit that it's a major bummer when somebody's supposed to pick you up at the mall and they completely forget about you, but is that really dramatic fodder for a major motion picture? It is if you're Julianne Moore, the queen of overreacting on the big screen. And although I'm sure you're waiting for me to give this turkey the patented McShyster "McShit!" razzle, I'm afraid I'm going to have to blow your mind by cracking open the stunner that I actually enjoyed this movie. Sure, the idea's batshit, but Moore's just touched enough to make it work on that crazy big screen. At first, when she starts ranting to strangers in the mall parking lot about how her son didn't show up to give her ride and how that means he never existed and her whole life is a giant alien conspiracy lie, you just shrug your shoulders and start making that cross-eyed, finger-twirling "crazy" gesture to your fellow theater patrons. But then you start to think. What if your ride doesn't come pick you up from the mall after the movie? How much would that suck and just how far out of your own ass might you crawl? Though I didn't see the rest of the movie, I'm sure it was fine. I had to go out in the hall and call my ride for a preemptive bitching-out.

National Lampoon's Gold Niggers
Let me be the first to make it clear that I don't approve of this film's title. No need to beat down the commune's doors and beat Roland McShyster to a bloody, racially insensitive pulp. Save that rage for the exploitive pencil-dicks over at the studio, if you don't mind. I don't care how many hard-core rappers you put in the cast, that kind of boorish insensitivity hasn't been welcome in movie titles since the 1950's. Or the mid-90's, in southern states. Though I'm sure the guys over at National Lampoon have been especially desperate for cheap laughs ever since John Belushi died and Chevy Chase had his soul removed in that infomercial accident, this one still has to go down with the infamous Skating Chink and the typo nightmare Emaneulle in Jew Zealand in the annals of the most offensive movie titles ever. But how was the movie, you ask? Are you shitting me? You think I was going to parade my white ass into that theater and announce that I'd just paid $9 to see some gold niggers? I got the hell out of there, and stopped to rent Roots on the way home in case anyone had followed me from the theater. Shit.

Shy Captain and the World of Sbarro
Maybe I spent too much of my childhood out in the sunshine, but I somehow managed to miss the comic book about the Italian-fast-food-loving WWI-era fighter pilot captain who was famous for never landing, due to his paralyzing fear of social situations. Nor did I catch wind of his most famous adventure, when he ends up being the only pilot left to fight off an invasion after the entire air force is destroyed on the ground by giant flying desk lamps. Did you read that one? Or maybe Hollywood is just starting to make this shit up, since audiences obviously don't care what they're getting as long as it's some kind of half-assed escape from reality. It's gotten so bad that I've even had offers to develop that Hero Gang comic I used to draw in high school, but I decided to take a pass since they wanted Ashton Kutcher to play me. Some things are just more valuable than money, and not spending the rest of your life having everyone think you're a gonad is definitely one of them.

And that's a wrap, but not the kind that come filled with delicious meats and shredded vegetables. Sorry about that, I wish it was that kind of wrap too. We'll be back in another few weeks with even more movie reviews for you to peruse, but probably still no wraps, so you might want to look into bringing your own lunch next time.

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)

August 9, 2004
Hola, America! That's about all the Spanish I know, but I wanted to give the column a little International flair this week. Why? Shit if I know. Anyway, thanks for stopping by once again for all the reviews you care to peruse. Like the way I... (8/9/04)

July 12, 2004
Well spank it, America, we're back for another week of Entertainment Police and all that that implies. Hope you've been doing as well in your sad little life as Roland McShyster has been in his. We've got three new movies to review this week, which... (7/12/04)