Sonny Chiba fans rejoice! Well, sorta. The new three-disc SONNY CHIBA ACTION PACK brings you a digitally remastered triumvirate of the martial artist master’s films … albeit some of his worst ones: VIRUS, GOLGO 13 and THE BULLET TRAIN.

A co-production of Japan and America, 1980’s VIRUS is a disaster film in more ways than one. Moving like a snail, it tells the lumbering tale of MM88, a military-engineered biological weapon with no vaccine that accidentally gets loose in the air following a plane crash. At first, all it does is level a herd of sheep, but soon, tens of millions of people across the world are dead.

President Glenn Ford can’t seem to do anything about it, and it’s no wonder, given his Oval Office is populated with such has-beens as Robert Vaughn and Henry Silva, each sucking in their own unique way. By the time they discover the virus can’t do diddly-squat in the extremely cold temperatures, it’s too late for them, so the “action” switches to a military base in Antarctica, where George Kennedy, Chuck Connors and Bo Svenson all suck in their own unique way, too.

By this time, you may be asking yourself, “Hey, where’s the Chiba?” Exactly. Sonny has a very small role, but it’s just enough to save VIRUS from being totally deadly. I will give it credit for ending with a nuclear bomb free-for-all, but that’s about it. For the cinematically anal, however, this is the uncut international version, never before seen in the U.S., so get ready to read!

Adapted from a popular Japanese comic, 1977’s colon-heavy GOLGO 13: ASSIGNMENT: KOWLOON is a rather leaden, plodding crime tale, in which Chiba has the title role, the world’s greatest hitman hired to off an upper-class drug lord in Hong Kong. Just as he’s about to pull the trigger, some chick does the job for him. So later, he kills that chick while he has sex with another girl. Then for good measure, he shoots her, too. This all leads to more complications in a story too complicated for its own good (or your enjoyment).

Chiba makes his last hit while dangling from a mountain and his target is in a moving helicopter. It’s neat because it signals the end of this stinker.

Nearly 20 years before SPEED, Japan’s 1975 flick THE BULLET TRAIN had a mad bomber hide an explosive device on the country’s super-powered, high-speed choo-choo, and rigged it to detonate if the train’s speed fell below a certain point. I’d tell you exactly what that point is, but I’m no good at that freaking metric system. Plus, I was so bored, I don’t remember.

It’s too bad the movie doesn’t move as fast as its titular object or it would rock. But the film has a languid pace, is overloaded with characters and is surprisingly short on action – all the ingredients that made Hollywood’s disaster films like THE TOWERING INFERNO and EARTHQUAKE suck, too.

Chiba has a marginal role as the sweat-prone train conductor. If he were only allowed to kick somebody, they might have had something to start from. Instead, you get two hours of various high-ranking officials talking on the phone, unconvincing miniatures and an ending Michael Mann would later steal for HEAT.

Even though none of these three movies set my soul on fire like his STREET FIGHTER saga, the Chiba completist in me still thinks it’s a good deal because of the price and BCI’s clean-up job. Sometimes I’m a glutton for punishment, and this is staying on my shelf right next to his better, crazier movies. –Rod Lott

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Finally, the most eagerly awaited film of the year – judging by Internet hype, not by actual box-office returns – is here: SNAKES ON A PLANE.

Plot? The title almost says it all. A Hawaiian surfer kid witnesses a mob hit and is asked to testify against the bad guy in L.A. Protecting him on the flight will be FBI Agent Neville (Samuel L. Jackson). The mob intends to make the flight hell by planting crates of deadly reptiles from the world over on the plane. Once in the air, snakes ensue.

SNAKES never made any promise beyond being a B-movie, and on that level, this horror/disaster thriller delivers. The promise of the title is fully realized, as there are a lot of snakes, and they bite the shit outta people. Not literally, although there is plenty of other graphic carnage to witness, as they sink their fangs into a bare breast and a urinating penis, as well as burrow their way through someone’s eye socket. I didn’t find any of SNAKES scary – every jump is pretty much telegraphed – but I didn’t expect how horrifically the stock characters would die. ‘Tis good gory fun.

It has a good cast, and everyone contributes something. Jackson gives it his resident bad-assness; as the flight attendant, erstwhile ERer Julianna Marguiles lends it some class; pilot David Koechner, some humor; SPECIES III hottie Sunny Mabrey, a little cleavage. It’s delightfully, intentionally cheeseball, out for nothing else than to be a fun ride. But don’t take that to mean it’s lazy or not well-made; instead, director David Ellis (now 3-for-3 after FINAL DESTINATION 2 and the woefully underrated CELLULAR) keeps the tension steady, the body count high and the pace quickening. If you’re disappointed by it, seriously, what were you expecting? –Rod Lott

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You’d expect a title like SARS WARS: BANGKOK ZOMBIE CRISIS to be one crazy, messed-up flick. And this 2004 Thai horror-comedy is indeed, but a little more focus and a lot less of the “boiiiiing!” sound effects would have made it an awesome crazy, messed-up flick. As it is, it’s a decent time-waster with as many great moments as there are bad ones.

The box sells as it a SCARY MOVIE-type spoof of the films RESIDENT EVIL, KILL BILL and STAR WARS; this is entirely untrue. There are no direct references to those movies; this is a zom-com (I just coined that) that exists in its own little world. And that’s a world that opens with an excellent animated credit sequence of a swordsman slashing zombies in half. It sets the stage for a perfectly outrageous first 10 minutes complete with a guy in a bear costume and a tainted insect that makes Thailand’s record as Asia’s only virus-free nation moot.

The virus borne by the bug is referred to as “Sars No. 4″ in the subtitles, and it turns those infected into bloodthirsty zombies cast from the Romero mold. It quickly spreads throughout a high-rise apartment building, where kidnappers are holding a schoolgirl for ransom, an inept hero aims to save her, a super-hot foxy scientist tests out antidotes and runs around in her underwear, and a giant musical zombie snake roams the halls. Hell, there’s even a zombie baby (rendered in bad CGI), a disturbing tranny-sex subplot and a few anime sequences to push the nudity boundaries further than they could get past the censors in live-action.

I wanted to love this one. And there are enough great lines, surreal touches and non-sequitirs in its first chunk to suggest a rock-solid he-man viewing experience. But then the humor grows more cornball and too self-referential (i.e. “This movie must really want to make some cash!”). But just when think the crickets are about to chirp, it hits another homerun – like, dressing the lead villain in a CATS Broadway T-shirt. This cycle from inspired to insipid never ends in all of its 95 lunatic minutes. So while definitely watchable and entertaining, SARS WARS does fall short of the cult classic it so desperately wants to be.

An aside: Thai is the most unpleasant language to be absorbed by my ears this side of German. –Rod Lott

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SCARY MOVIE 4 – This fourth go-round in the cash-cow horror-spoof franchise may be the smartest and most polished yet. It’s mainly a parody of THE WAR OF THE WORLDS (with Craig Bierko doing a killer Cruise), working in goofs on THE GRUDGE, SAW and THE VILLAGE, plus a few non-scary movies as well (BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, MILLION DOLLAR BABY and even HUSTLE & FLOW). What really makes it work – besides director David Zucker’s taking it from the Wayans’ raciness to a more goofy focus – is Anna Faris. The girl commits. It’s too bad Hollywood doesn’t know what to do with her, because she is a truly fearless comedienne.

THE BENCHWARMERS – Too many dud comedies has rendered the “produced by Adam Sandler” tag meaningless. But this nerd/underdog comedy is surprisingly funny in its first half, and largely inoffensive. Rob Schneider, David Spade and Jon Heder are various loser types who agree to take on a Little League team in a high-stakes tournament. Most of the laughs come from Spade. Oh, there are duds and scenes that go nowhere except flat on their face, but for a disposable comedy, you could do a lot worse (as in, earlier Schenider/Spade vehicles).

XXX: STATE OF THE UNION – Because Vin Diesel apparently had “better” things to do (THE PACIFIER?), they went ahead and made an XXX sequel without him, lest the franchise die. This one opens with a deadly assault on the underground headquarters of xXx, a secret government spy agency headed by Samuel L. Jackson. When the smoke clears and Diesel’s character is reported dead, Jackson declares it’s time for a new recruit. I know when I’m looking for somebody to save the country, I immediately think “ex-con.” Okay, so Ice Cube plays an ex-con Navy SEAL, but still. Acting with only his monotone sneer and teddy-bear arrogance from start to finish, Cube is America’s greatest hope against formidable foe Willem Dafoe, playing a rogue military general with designs on taking over the White House. It’s all flashy, trashy, stupid fun.

SHOCK – In a hotel, a woman witnesses a matrimonial murder that sends her into a state of shock, so she’s sent to a sanitarium, where she’s treated by … the doctor who committed the crime she saw! That’s the setup of this acceptable, brief little thriller of psychosis, infidelity and insulin overdoses, from 1946. Before he hit it big at horror, Vincent Price acts impressively as the crooked doc, while his bedridden charge is played by Anabel Shaw. As long as he keeps her loony, she can’t finger him as the killer. SHOCK grows a little melodramatic as it reaches its end, but is worth seeing for an overlooked Price performance.

PURSUIT – That noted action hero Ben Gazzara is on the trail of that noted terrorist E.G. Marshall, who wants to dose the Republican National Convention with nerve gas (hey, who doesn’t?), in this made-for-TV curiosity from 1972. “Curiosity” because it’s directed by Michael Crichton, who manages to make every book he writes a megahit, but whose directorial career peaked with WESTWORLD. Gazzara’s chase – a PURSUIT, if you will – of Marshall isn’t all that compelling, even if the 24-ish onscreen countdown clock suggests otherwise. Its themes still resonate today, even if the fashions don’t. The final scene is laughable in its inert cheapness. –Rod Lott

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Sorry to anyone who recently tried to place an order for back issues in our store and were unable to. I had forgotten to recode all the links after our recent Internet e-mail provider switcheroo! All’s well now.

• Because I think it is the worst movie I have seen in theaters since the turn of the millennium.

• Because it is not funny. There was not a single laugh to be found in its entire 83 minutes. Seriously, not a one. Therefore, if Oliver Stone’s WORLD TRADE CENTER has even a slight chuckle in the pre-explosion scenes as people are going about their daily lives, then WORLD TRADE CENTER is a funnier movie than ZOOM.

• Because those 83 minutes felt double. And probably took three times that off my life.

• Because Tim Allen – though prone to the occasional good project (i.e. GALAXY QUEST) – is a comedy vacuum.

• Because supporting actor Chevy Chase is now so old and fat looking, it’s downright sad. In this one, he looks like THE NUTTY PROFESSOR. Part of you wants to think, “I’ve missed seeing Chevy Chase on screen.” And then one minute in, when you realize he’s forgotten how to be funny, you no longer miss him. But you feel sorry for him. It’s like hanging out with a grandfather who no longer knows your name because his synapses don’t fire correctly.

• Because it has no idea how to set up a joke. Not that there is a punchline there worth setting up.

• Because it goes out of its way to Jon Benet up a 6-year-old girl, shaking butt and all.

• Because it has a robot named Mr. Pibb.

• Because it has a skeleton named Courteney Cox.

• Because the opening credits read “Songs by Smash Mouth.”

• Because after trying to kill all the kid heroes and being defeated, the villain immediately shakes everyone’s hand and joins the family.

• Because even the end-credit bloopers – sometimes a saving grace of so-so comedies – is also as laughless as everything before it. When you can’t even do bloopers right, you’re screwed.

• Because it was already released last summer, when it was called SKY HIGH and was watchable.

• Because it’s not based on the ’70s PBS TV show. That would be so much better.

• Because I’ve only been able to see six movies this summer – and this had to be one of them instead of MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III, THE DA VINCI CODE or other things I missed.

• Because, because, because, because, because – because of the horrible things it does.

Need official proof that the crazes for both SNAKES ON A PLANE and Sudoku puzzles have gotten completely out of hand? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you SNAKES ON A SUDOKU.

It’s tagged as the “official puzzle book” for the Samuel L. Jackson film. What differentiates this Sudoku book from the kajillions already flooding shelves? Simple: Taking the title far too literally, each puzzle has an illustration of a snake sitting right atop it, and the boxes curl around (like a snake!) rather than sit in 3×3 grids.

And that’s it, which smacks of utter laziness to me. If you’re going to do a tie-in puzzle book, at least put forth some effort. The LEMONY SNICKET one captured all the dark, droll humor of the film and series, so why can’t this one have a word search for various spellings of “muthafucka”? Or maybe a maze in which you have to guide Kenan Thompson to snatch up all the bags of airline peanuts?

One can’t really review something like this (”Remember that one puzzle that starts out ‘4 blank blank?’ Ooh, dat shit tricky!“) – only throw it out there and see if anyone jumps to catch. Part of me thinks it’d be fun to put this on a shelf and pull it down in a few decades just to prove it existed, but that would only be encouraging them.

And in other SNAKES news: If you’re peeing your pants in anticipation of the film’s opening this Friday, get yourself over to Circuit City pronto for a free SNAKES preview DVD with any purchase. It has 11 minutes of behind-the-scenes footage from the film and trailers – a perfect appetizer for the main course. Oh, and you MySpace kids plan on turning the screening I attend into some ROCKY HORROR-type audience participation thing, prepare to have your asses kicked, because I’m a lot angrier these days. –Rod Lott

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BCI Eclipse and Deimos Entertainment’s new CRYPT OF TERROR line of South-of-the-border horrors gets off to a rousing start with the release of NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES, the 1968 Mexican “classick.” It’s one of those titles I’ve long run across in various film books and have never had the opportunity to see. ‘Til now!

The disc contains both the original Spanish version (LA HORRIPILANTE BESTIA HUMANA) and the imported, dubbed English version. For all you purists who automatically want to snub the latter, know that you’re going to miss a better experience, filled with gore and nudity. See, we Americans know how to do a B-movie right.

APES’ story is pretty standard: In a desperate bid to save his son Julio, a scientist makes the world’s first ape-to-man heart transplant. There’s a great scene early on where the ailing young man asks his father if he’s going to be alright. Dear ol’ Dad assures his son he’ll pull through, then turns away to the camera and makes a “whoo, boy” face that suggests the chap’s a goner. Then we cut back to Julio, who smiles as though he’s just been told he’s getting a taco bar set up in his room.

Because we wouldn’t have a movie otherwise, the operation is a success, although it has side effects – namely, turning him into an ape. He gets out and chases nubile women whose boobs are constantly escaping from their apeman-torn clothing, you’d think the damn thing was shot in FloppyVision. For the time, the bouncing bosoms had to be a bit shocking; even the jaded film fan like me finds the amount, the extent and the context of the nudity quite surprising.

The blood flows bright-red in APES (that title really should be singular, but who’s counting?), but the transplant sequence includes inserts of a real-life heart operation, from first cut to heart removal. It’s so in-your-face and unflinching that I thought I was going to be ill. But then the movie keeps going back to this cute redhead who wrestles in a devil costume, and all’s right with the world again.

APES comes complete with a second disc comprised of K. Gordon Murray’s imported CURSE OF THE DOLL PEOPLE and its original MUÑECOS INFERNALES version. For those keeping score at home, that’s essentially four movies for the price of one. –Rod Lott

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DAVE CHAPPELLE’S BLOCK PARTY – It’s a concert film! It’s a documentary! It’s a concert film! It’s a documentary! It’s as crazy as Dave himself! I have to admire this flick’s freewheelin’ style. Becuase it’s so shapeless and ever-changing, it’s one of the most experimental mainstream films of the decade, appropriately from the giant hands of director Michel Gondry (ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND). We follow Dave around as he invites neighbors, strangers and marching band members for his exclusive dream concert in Brooklyn. We watch Dave joke with the audience and backstage. We watch performances of the concert, which range from awesome to middling. The movie culminates in a Fugees reunion, but for me, the climax was Fugee referee Wyclef Jean belting out an exhilarating version of “President” to some kids and then telling them to stop blaming the white man for their problems and take responsibility. And damn if they didn’t clap! There’s hope yet for the next generation. Interesting film/not-a-film, but too long.

V FOR VENDETTA – Or V FOR VERY BORING. Seriously, I gave up after 30 minutes of this nonsense. The editing is jarring, as scenes bump up against one another with no proper cushioning. Worse is watching Hugo Weaving try to act through a mask that doesn’t move; it’s comical, really. But most of you are going to watch this MATRIX-y political claptrap just to see Natalie Portman in her undies, and that’s at around the five-minute mark. By then, the movie had already talked me to death. I call it the worst comics adaptation of the year. Yep, I said it.

HALLOWEEN: 25 YEARS OF TERROR – I don’t care who knows it: I love the HALLOWEEN movies. All of them. From the original John Carpenter classic to the Michael Myers-less HALLOWEEN III to even that one with Busta Rhymes. So I was looking forward to this franchise-spanning retrospective documentary with vanilla-mint-toothpaste breath. It did not disappoint. Every movie is covered, just about everyone involved is interviewed, and it proves that HALLOWEEN fanboys (and one breast-flashing fangirl) are just as scary as other movie-series fanboys. Comes with more extras than I will ever have time to watch, plus a comic book (which we reviewed here). And many thanks to Hitch reader Joel for buying this for me as a complete surprise, just because he is super-nice.

FAILURE TO LAUNCH – This movie is so delightful! Did I catch you off-guard? Good, because I’m kidding. I haven’t seen this one and I don’t intend to, because of seven words: “Starring Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey.” Movies with horses and stoners just don’t do it for me. But my wife saw it and called it “cute, predictable,” which I translate into “I should’ve spent that time having sex with my husband instead.” Speaking of, with a title like FAILURE TO LAUNCH on a romantic comedy, it makes me think McC has an erectile dysfunction problem played for yuks. And if that were the case, I would watch this movie. And laugh and laugh and laugh. Laughing is fun.

TALLADEGA NIGHTS: THE BALLAD OF RICKY BOBBY – I’ve never watched an actual NASCAR race, but I know enough about it to know that I hate it. White-trash phenomena are ripe for parody, and the latest proof is in Will Ferrell’s TALLADEGA NIGHTS. Here’s the litmus test, pure and simple: If you thought ANCHORMAN was funny (it was), see this. It may not be as good as that, but I still laughed a lot. The second half actually tries to tell too much story and makes Leslie Bibb disappear. Comedy MVPs Gary Cole and Jane Lynch provide great support. Stick around ’til the tail end of the credits. In honor of this movie, I bought some BBQ pork rinds. And what’s that, you say? This isn’t available for rent yet? Hey, hoss, this is my website and I can do whatever I want with it. I’m high on Red Diamond sweet tea right now and you do not want to cross me. I will fight you. –Rod Lott

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Hitch’s resident DVDemented columnist Richard York’s childhood dream of being featured on a DVD cover has come true. Shriek Show’s THE ZOMBIE PACK 2 box set is slated for release in September, and who else is semi-smiling from the center of the package but none other than Mr. York?

Pay no attention to the screaming zombie with impeccably white teeth hogging up most of the space; Dick is the one right in the middle, with a screwdriver sticking out of his bald head. Having a tool penetrate his skull is not something that was done just for this photo shoot; he’s always doing crazy shit like that. You know how New Yorkers are.

Anyway, THE ZOMBIE PACK 2 features the films ZOMBIE HOLOCAUST, BURIAL GROUND and FLESHEATER. Dick himself gives BURIAL GROUND two thumbs and one Phillips up, mostly because it involves a dwarf playing a child. Again, New Yorkers – go figure.

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Often record companies send out promo CDs with little blurbs of reference so you know where the band is coming from, perspective-wise. Often this is helpful, but other times I hate it because they can nail it perfectly and leave me with next to nothing to contribute. Case in point: The Black Neon’s ARTS & CRAFTS. Here’s what they had to say about it: “A dynamite combo of krautrock, mechanical beauty, and rock swagger that plays out like an all-star concert featuring Air, Harmonia, Beta Band, Primal Scream and Kraftwerk!” And yep, that says it all. Well, I’ll throw in the name of Stereolab to contribute something. At first the vocals bugged me (since they’re not on every track), but they grew on me quick. This is a start-to-finish shot of musical adrenaline, as cool as anything I’ve heard this summer.

Snowglobe’s OXYTOCIN is aptly named, since it’s both feel-good (as a good narcotic should be) and addictive (my iTunes says I’ve played it 12 times now). I was a big fan of their OUR LAND BRAINS album from a few years back, and as loaded with anthems as it was, this one shows it up with a polished sense of knowing attitude. It’s ’70s pop with a ‘90 indy sheen, and meant to listen to in one whole swoop, rather than picking out your favorites. I’ve come to view it as one solid track, and I’m shortlisting it for “best of 2006″ honors. And the track “Instruments” is simply heartbreaking.

With an acute mix of hip-hop and horns, Mr. Tube and the Flying Objects’ LISTEN UP reminded me of Fun Lovin’ Criminals, except more melodic, more polished and less interested than writing songs about marijuana. This has a definite swagger to it that I appreciated, like mid-tempo jazz, and the Mexican musical influences are welcome as well. Smart stuff, not to be ignored.

Mouse on Mars is not a band I’ve paid much attention to (partly because I confused them all the time with Modest Mouse before I knew better), but their new one, the don’t-even-try-to-pronounce-it VARCHARZ, has changed that. As far as electronica instrumental discs go, it’s a pretty good one, primarily drum-and-bass married to rock beats (a la The Crystal Method), but veering into unexpected directions, including prog and harmonium. The last two tracks, however, almost ruin it; they test patience as they scramble your brain.

A punk band called F-Units named their new one REJECT ON IMPACT. So I did. Thanks for the tip, guys!

Nice, restrained, slo-mo melodies are what you get with Fiel Garvie’s latest, CAUGHT LAUGHING, and the female vocals match it perfectly. The instrumentation is so precise, so building, you think it’s going to reach a cacophony and just balls-out explode. It never does – and that’s not a criticism, because these songs are consistent, deliberate and soothing, like a salve on a wound, and that wound is your soul, my brother.

One wishes Bridges and Powerlines’ five-track self-titled debut were longer. Because the songs here are rhythmic and dark, but not brooding, as the band knows how to rock. Power pop is almost a lost art in these days of rap and bubblegum, but at least there are practitioners out there like B&P who won’t let it truly die. The songwriting here is sharper than most indie acts, and any band that manages to work in a piano without going mamby-pamby has my respect.

The world music craze has pretty much died out, but those global rhythms can still be found flourishing in the club world. Naked Rhythm’s FREQUENCY is a perfect example (and not just for that tasty bare midriff cover). The tunes on this one are Ibiza-ready – lush and awash with exotic flavor and solid beats. It’s slick as sunblock.

There’s some nifty, loopy work on Central City Music Company’s CENTRAL BOISE LIBRARY. Folks into somewhat-silly but still musically competent work might be into it. But 21 songs is a bit too much of a good thing, like eating a pound of candy corn. –Rod Lott

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The Horror Channel is getting re-animated with a special online screening of Stuart Gordon’s RE-ANIMATOR (one of the 1980s’ very best horror films) and a chat with its producer Brian Yuzna, who also stepped into the director’s chair for the sequels, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR and BEYOND RE-ANIMATOR (all of which occupy a spot in my heart). It all takes place at midnight on Friday, Aug. 11; go to www.horrorchannel.com for details. Hopefully we’ll get some scoop on whether the rumored HOUSE OF RE-ANIMATOR is a go!

Despite Miramax’s best efforts to make you think otherwise (i.e. never releasing it in theaters, waiting five years to dump it on video, giving Skeet Ulrich a lead role), TRACK DOWN isn’t as bad as you’d expect. It’s the true story of Kevin Mitnick, the hacker who evaded the FBI for two years after breaking into computer networks and stealing software and data that could have been highly damaging, had he chosen to do so.

Mitnick is played by Ulrich, who no longer looks like Johnny Depp but Kevin Federline. As he attempts to live off the grid, he’s chased not only by federal agents but computer security expert Tsutomu Shimomura (Russell Wong), whose hard drive Mitnick wiped clean and whose super-secret virus-worm-thingie he swiped.

TRACK DOWN has an interesting dilemma: How do you make hacking visually exciting? Well, other than having Angelina Jolie strip down in a pool, you can’t. So it has to rely on your standard cat-and-mouse setup to generate any thrills. But in doing so, TRACK DOWN forgets to dumb down the technology aspect to make it easily acceptable. It assumes you already know a lot about hacking, from the lingo to the how-to. I obviously don’t know as much as I should have, because after watching the film, I have no idea what exactly Mitnick did or who Shimomura is. But I do know that HALLOWEEN 6 director Joe Chappelle so obviously used this flashy piece as a calling card to secure his CSI: MIAMI gig.

Jeremy Sisto, Master P and Amanda Peet are thrown into the cast just to piss me off. –Rod Lott

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If we called Steve Guttenberg “the Goot” throughout his inexplicably long term as a leading man, then we have to call Ashton Kutcher “the Kootch.”

Now that I got that outta the way, let me talk about one of the Kootch’s few hits so far in his non-illustrious career, THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT. (With the straight-to-video sequel due soon, I finally got around to seeing this 2004 sleeper hit.) It’s a time-travelin’, mind-trippin’, Kootch-twitchin’ tale of burnt dogs, bloody noses, exploding babies, paraplegics, frat boys, goth fatties, kiddie pornmeisters, crack whores and – if you’re fortunate enough to view the directors’ cut – a fetus that strangles itself on its own umblicial cord!

The Kootch is a crazy, mixed-up kid who has blackouts, after which he can’t remember anything. He keeps journals to help jog his memory. He finds out that when he rereads his journal entries regarding the events prior to his blackouts, he can jump back to that moment and change the course of history. The history is limited to his little core circle of friends, so it’s not like his little tricks cause a typhoon or anything. The more he changes things, though, the more he screws things up. Have we learned nothing from BACK TO THE FUTURE?

The concept behind BUTTERFLY (whatta gay title) is a good one, but it’s bungled in the hands of the dual writer-directors who infuse what should have been a solid B picture with pretension and missteps. They think they’re making art (just listen to the commentary, in which they say “fuck you” if you rented their film instead of buying it and worshipping it as much as they do), but you can’t make art and hire the Kootch. That’s like wanting to start a daycare center and hiring Scott Peterson to oversee it; the world just doesn’t work that way.

As we’ve all known since the beginning of time (or at least THAT ‘70S SHOW), the Kootch is a terrible actor. Here, out of his usual realm of attempted comedy, he’s even worse. His dramatic moments are laughable. Hell, he can’t even run convincingly.

The moral of the movie: The world is better off without the Kootch. Amen. –Rod Lott

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