Frank Castle's Express Rhinoplasty
The thing that makes Frank Castle so great is his simplicity. Not only does the audience immediately understand him, so does every character around him. When he's about to kill someone, they don't waste time with any pleading or disbelief; they know they're fucked. In Punisher: War Zone he throws a guy named Billy into a glass recycling machine. Now, if anyone else had done this, Billy would be screaming, "No ... this can't be happening!" or "Please! You don't have to do this!" Not with Frank Castle. Billy already knows he's getting ground into flux agent, so he skips immediately to "Fuck you, Castle! Fuck you! My FAAAAAACE!!!" See the difference? Those are last words worth a busy obituarist's time.
The greatest example of this comes later in the movie after an hour or so of truly deranged screenwriting. A woman and her daughter are being held hostage until tough cop Paul Budiansky (get it?) disarms the hostage taker. While Paul is calling for backup, The Punisher walks into the dining room, calmly picks up the little girl, and sublimates the prisoner's face with a shotgun. Even with police training, most cops would need a second or two to process what the screaming fuck they just saw, but with Frank Castle, this kind of thing is more annoying than surprising. Budiansky is already done yelling, "GODDAMMIT, CASTLE!" before the guy's brains hit the ground. I honestly have no idea how the little girl keeps from laughing.
Who Needs Acting School?
Everyone involved in Troll 2 was worse at their job than Casey Anthony's prosecutor. Every actor's motivation seems to be "I need more autism medication and I can prove it." The costumes look like the remains of a puppet show brawl, the writing would have to improve to be considered language and the caterer probably cheats on her husband. It waffles between unwatchable nothingness and stunning failure, but became legendary for this scene.
In it, a kid watches a girl devolve into green goo as he loses control of his own nervous system. A woman who is obviously a witch is super excited about the whole thing, but it isn't until a group of pig monsters start finger painting in the girl's remains that he realizes he might be in some trouble. In fact, it takes him so long to figure out he's about to die that when it's time to scream, he's forgotten everything he learned about acting. Please enjoy this cinematic performance that will never, ever be equaled:
Mega Shark vs. 747
Low budget sci-fi movies are a lot like Final Destination movies -- you only sit through them because you know that at any second, something truly stupid will leap out from behind the boring dialog and tear someone in half. Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus sets a new standard of excellence in all three of those categories: Boring Dialog, Something Truly Stupid and the extremely competitive Tear Someone in Half. The greatest scene of the film starts in the sky. A 747 is cruising above the ocean, oblivious to how badly it has been generated by a computer. The passengers aboard are doing nothing of interest. The film lingers on this abyss of stimuli for an abusive length of time because if they spent $12 to render a passenger jet, you're going to goddamn look at it.
In general, one page of a screenplay equals one minute of movie, and that means three pages of the Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus screenplay looked like this:
And all of that's perfectly excusable because the next page looks like this:
That generic passenger character is totally right ... holy fucking shit:
Terry Crews vs. Vanessa Carlton
White Chicks is such an abomination that if you put it near a baby, that baby will tell you how you're going to die. It's like a collection of rejected jokes from Andrew Dice Clay's 1985 garbage that someone accidentally used as a screenplay. Shawn and Marlon Wayans disguising themselves as Caucasian socialites has the believability of Leatherface running into a sorority and panting that he's one of them. It's not cute. It's what racists watch when they can't remember what inspired them to hate different cultures. The only reason they didn't call this movie "N-Words Being C-Words" is because Shawn Wayans thought that sounded too much like an educational film.
It's tough to enjoy a movie when you keep thinking that the girls stapled to Shawn and Marlon's faces probably had names... families. However, there is one amazing scene. Terry Crews is in his car on a date with Marlon (probably?) even though he's dressed like the flayed god Xipe Totec in the stretched flesh of man. To dodge his sexual advances, Marlon puts a girly Vanessa Carlton song on the radio. To an idiot, that means comedy. To everyone else, that means the writers thought carefully about which song is the hardest to rape to and fucking came up with something.
White Chicks has nine credited writers, and here's how those well-paid professionals ended the scene: "Latrell likes Vanessa Carlton. He sings the entire song, pantomiming each lyric." If I typed that and handed it to Terry Crews, I'd expect to wake up in a dark place to the distant sound of paramedics asking each other if they'd ever pulled someone's head out of their own ass. But Terry nails it. It is so hilarious and lovable that you'll forget that 36 white organ donors gave their skin to make this movie.