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YOU WAVIN' TO ME?From the remnants of what was one of the most offensive, sadistic and
warped revenge flicks of the '70s, the grimy remake of The Last House
on the Left limps into theatres. The 2009 version gives us a gruesome
yet watered-down film, rendering it completely unoriginal in every way.

Wes Craven directed the 1972 original with a creepy, seedy home movie
effect that made us wonder if all the horrid things happening were
actually real. Craven (credited as producer here) based his tale on
Ingmar Bergman's Virgin Spring, using the slow-moving psychological
dilemma to opposite extremes putting all the stomach-churning cards on
the table. The result was one of the top drive-in classics: not only
did you gasp in disbelief at the extent of the sadistic rape and
murder; you shuddered at the vile techniques of revenge.

DUDE, WHERE'S MY CAR? OH RIGHT…When you fork over nine bucks for Miss March, you're signing up for
graphic viewings of explosive diarrhea, deformed male genitalia,
animals pissing into champagne glasses, abuse of coma patients, jokes
about epilepsy, jokes about epilepsy combined with fellatio, racist
stereotypes, and about two dozen more isolated attempts at eliciting
cheap laughs from … someone?

To paraphrase Winston Churchill: Never
have so few punch lines been owed to so many setups. If you spend too
many bored hours scouring the Internet or the Independent Film Channel
("IFC" on your Bend Broadband dial), you may already know the
perpetrators of Miss March: It's the "Whitest Kids U Know" sketch
comedy team, helmed by writer/director duo Trevor Moore and Zach
Cregger. After a brief overview of videos on their website and
YouTube.com - along with sitting through their first feature-length
film - it's difficult to imagine them conjuring up a joke that doesn't
involve some aspect of the male member and its various uses.

Go ahead…The making of Watchmen was besieged with controversy and problems from
the get-go. Producers fought over rights, writer Alan Moore took his
name off the project, lawsuits flew-it was a messy Hollywood legal
battle on a grand scale begging the question: would it ever be
released?
With Zack Snyder (Dawn Of the Dead redux and 300) at the
helm, Watchmen is good for about two hours. There are amazing special
effects, exceptional acting and some of the best dialogue I have ever
heard, but then just when I told myself I could watch this all day,
Watchmen took a turn for the worse and never wholly recovered.

Ahoy there!The same team responsible for the remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre is
back again with less fervor and a rote take on an already tired genre.
With the newest Friday the 13th nothing has changed to reinvigorate the
worn-out formula. Jason, it seems, has been resurrected for the sole
purpose of raking in box office revenue. (Which he did, by the way to
the tune of $24 million over opening weekend - tops at the box office)
What the film sorely lacks is something dastardly different. Slasher
flicks depend on originality because we've seen it all before.

While
I found it sacrilege to remake TCM, Friday the 13th sinks to new
depths.The original film added suspense to the grisly killings with a
secret killer whose identity was revealed at the end. Only in
serialized sequels does the saga of hockey-masked Jason Voorhees
commence. Here in redux land we get a mini intro explaining the
decapitation death of Jason's mom and his subsequent rampage. The first
part of the movie is strong, reminiscent of 2002's Cabin Fever.
Marginally interesting characters actually seem like they're
interacting, and the inevitable demise of the oversexed, weed smoking
campers is hilarious, frightening and, true to any early slasher flick,
ripe with abundant sex, gore and nudity.

Owen and Watts make a lonely run on the bank. I have never been to the Guggenheim Museum in New York City, but I
imagine the trip would be a heckuva lot more fascinating with non-stop
Uzi fire and fountains of spurting blood. That is one thing The
International understands pretty well. Unfortunately, it doesn't have a
firm grasp on much else.

Tom Twyker, the German-born director of
1998's cult hit Run Lola Run, helms The International with the
intention of producing a film that is equal parts James Bond and
political thought piece. The problem with trying to straddle two very
different worlds is that you usually end up with a cramp in your groin
and fall flat on your face. That's sort of what happens here.