Friday the 13th: Legends of the Fall

Sorry, I meant The Fall of Legends. I can't even begin to tell you how many ways this is wrong:



But I'll try.

I have two words for you: underground tunnels. Say that out loud: underground tunnels. It just makes the true horror junkies, like myself, want to curl up in a ball and cry like the little bitches that we would be if we weren't so very very cool.

(Note to self: Tivo Golden Girls tonight)

Seriously, Sean S. Cunningham would be rolling over in his grave—if he were actually dead.

Oh, and I have four more words for you: token witty black guy. That's right, I said it: token witty black guy. Doesn't it just shrivel up on your tongue like the bad semen you get when the guy you just picked up at a seedy bar fails to tell you that he binged on garlic chicken and bottomless breadsticks for dinner?

It's exactly like that (trust me).

You know the archetype of the Token Witty Black Guy: He's the one hacks like Michael Bay like to stuff into their screenplays for comedic effect. He's the guy that plays what has to be the most flagrant and offensive racial stereotype in film by walking around—with a strut, no less—and throwing out clever lines like "Wus up, giiirl?" and "How you doin'?" and "Uh-uh, I ain't goin' in there. This nigga stayin' right where he is, aight?" That guy. Where's the black guy that's Harvard educated? The one that hates hip-hop and ho's? The guy that wants to fucking hunker down in a nice Connecticut farmhouse with his wife and kids while he practices law and she makes fucking playdates with the neighbors—before he gets killed.

And to that end, I have nine more words and a hyphenate: Michael Bay must be the biggest douche-bag on the planet. (Is that right? Nine?) Seriously, doesn't he know this? And I'm including him with the likes of Brody-fucking-Jenner, which has gotta hurt, bad! Bay had no qualms about throwing down his millions to get his bloody hands on this franchise, only to fuck the true Friday fans by giving them another over-produced, slick, loud, and poorly written remake. When is this man going to go away? Isn't there some kind of intergalactic mothership that combs the universe for useless shills, and them beams them away to be used for their alien children as scientific examples of the pitfalls of stupidity? Thank God the Rosemary's Baby remake fell through. Otherwise, we'd have had Paris Hilton as Mrs. Castevet—because, you know, she's so awesome.

And to the misguided defenders that say "you haven't even seen the movie yet": Fuck you. I don't need to see the movie to know it sucks, just like I don't need to put my dick in a hot frying pan to know it will fucking hurt. (I made that mistake once already.) Anyway, it'll all suck because the movie was produced by the devil himself, and Hell's name is Platinum Dunes.

That's it. I got nothin' else, aside from a shitload of other reasons why this movie is a travesty that I'm already too bored to share.

P.S. What would qualify as a good remake, you ask? This. Because Heaven's name is Lionsgate: