I know it was 2004. October.
The Red Sox had just won the World Series for the first time in 86 years, and the Friday night before the victory parade, I dragged my cousin to the movies. Sure, Friday night at the movies was something we'd done a million times, but a Sox World Series parade was something we assumed we'd never see once. As we were both in the early stages of our careers in public education, we left the last almost-midnight screening f--king exhausted. Bleary-eyed ain't the half of it.
So tired, in fact, on the ride home we silently decided it would be a terrible idea to get up in a few short hours, drive a hundred miles north to Boston, only to freeze our balls off along the parade route cheering for Damon, Manny and Millar and the rest of the guys..
To be clear, we didn't go to perhaps the biggest f--king sporting event in our lives (up until that moment, anyway)... because I insisted we go see a f--king low-budget horror film the night before.
And they thought the 2004 Red Sox were idiots.
Saw and I didn't exactly get off on the right foot (I think there's a joke there) over a decade ago, so I'm not sure what would compel me to check out 2017's Jigsaw. I actually abandoned the series after the second entry, so jumping back in to part...carry the three...part eight probably wasn't the best call. But the wife was out of town, and the kids were at my mom's. What's a grown man supposed to do in that situation.
Not fall the f--k asleep. Which is why I rented the shortest movie they had. And still fell the f--k asleep.
As far as my dim recollection goes, Jigsaw stays pretty close to the winning formula of the previous films. Terrible people awake to find themselves in even more, uh, terribler situations, and we get to gleefully squirm our way through each grisly demise.
Here, the crux of the film concerns itself with five a-holes chained to the wall of an extremely elaborate death chamber. Jigsaw, who apparently/supposedly died a decade ago, has channeled his love for OK Go videos, and created a seemingly endless (and super f--ked up) version of Mouse Trap. And unless you confess to all the sins you've committed in your mostly-shitty life, well, you gon' die. And it ain't a laundry basket that's coming down on your head.
It's a...well, it's a...it's a f--king laser.
Look, you can hardly trust me on a regular day, so to consider my opinion on a film that I was drifting in and out of and one where I failed to take the previous five prerequisite courses is an exercise in utter f--king stupidity. I'm pretty much one of those guys in college who only showed up to get the syllabus and take the final. And f--k those guys.
Speaking of people I generally hate, here are the Yays and Boos. We actually own at least three of the Saw sequels, but never even bothered to check 'em out. Yes, in addition to time and effort (mine and yours, honestly), I'm also totally in to wasting money, too.
I live in Pennsylvania now, and just in case you're not aware, there's been a tremendous amount of talk about a sports parade that recently occured in my area. Being a die-hard fan of all Boston-area sports teams (and a bitter prick), I immediately change the channel or shut the radio off when they start to discuss any of the events of the last week during the game. And when someone jokingly asked me if I was going to attend this f--king parade after the game, I thought to myself...f--k that.
I'd rather fall into a giant pit of syringes, instead.
The Red Sox had just won the World Series for the first time in 86 years, and the Friday night before the victory parade, I dragged my cousin to the movies. Sure, Friday night at the movies was something we'd done a million times, but a Sox World Series parade was something we assumed we'd never see once. As we were both in the early stages of our careers in public education, we left the last almost-midnight screening f--king exhausted. Bleary-eyed ain't the half of it.
So tired, in fact, on the ride home we silently decided it would be a terrible idea to get up in a few short hours, drive a hundred miles north to Boston, only to freeze our balls off along the parade route cheering for Damon, Manny and Millar and the rest of the guys..
To be clear, we didn't go to perhaps the biggest f--king sporting event in our lives (up until that moment, anyway)... because I insisted we go see a f--king low-budget horror film the night before.
And they thought the 2004 Red Sox were idiots.
Not fall the f--k asleep. Which is why I rented the shortest movie they had. And still fell the f--k asleep.
As far as my dim recollection goes, Jigsaw stays pretty close to the winning formula of the previous films. Terrible people awake to find themselves in even more, uh, terribler situations, and we get to gleefully squirm our way through each grisly demise.
Here, the crux of the film concerns itself with five a-holes chained to the wall of an extremely elaborate death chamber. Jigsaw, who apparently/supposedly died a decade ago, has channeled his love for OK Go videos, and created a seemingly endless (and super f--ked up) version of Mouse Trap. And unless you confess to all the sins you've committed in your mostly-shitty life, well, you gon' die. And it ain't a laundry basket that's coming down on your head.
It's a...well, it's a...it's a f--king laser.
Look, you can hardly trust me on a regular day, so to consider my opinion on a film that I was drifting in and out of and one where I failed to take the previous five prerequisite courses is an exercise in utter f--king stupidity. I'm pretty much one of those guys in college who only showed up to get the syllabus and take the final. And f--k those guys.
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| Uh, ma'am? *whispers* You're doing it wrong. |
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| The cadavers ain't the only things stiff in this morgue. |
Yaaaaaaaay!
- I'm not sure what I love more, Tobin Bell's face, or his voice. Somebody get me a coin...
- Oooh, that initial offering of blood was a real bitch, right?
- Speaking of, turns out Carly's a bit of a bleeder. Three needles be damned, I'm not jamming anything pointy into this chick.
- Hahaha...solid burn on Cleveland. Was Isiah Thomas credited on the screenplay?
- [ominous music] Oh, Subtitle Guy. You're the best/worst.
- While some of (uh, all of) the traps are beyond comprehension, I was a huge fan of that shotgun contraption thingy. This might be the only time that being dyslexic would have been clutch.
- I never thought I'd see someone get the Demogorgon. Not as a haircut, exactly...but close.
- And finally, that ending. I definitely didn't see it coming, but then again, with only a third of one eye open, there wasn't much I saw coming [full disclosure, I re-watched the selesai twenty minutes the following day, so back off my shit].
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| Teacher's lounges are pretty depressing. |
Booooooooo!
- Okay, so some of the reasons you end up in an endless cavalcade of death aren't all that impressive. Stealing a purse? Pffft.
- But some of them are insanely f--king brutal, my goodness. The one with the baby...is something I'd rather not talk/think about ever. F--k.
- Half the time we're in Jigsaw's game, which is, at the very least, entertaining. But when we cut back to CSI: F--KTOWN? I'd rather turn on CBS.
- Death by falling grain? What the f--k is this shit? Couldn't you, like, climb the grain quickly? F--king eat your way out? Jump up and down like an asshole? C'mon, now.
- Hot Morgue Lady is a bit of a super-fan, no? Enjoy the work, sure. But lovingly recreate every single bit of it? Seems desperate. With a dash of batshit f--king lunacy.
- You might want to close the windows of your top secret fetish lab, you know? Could make it harder for Cop Guy to casually snap pictures on his Polaroid camera....
- Mitch and the Bad Breaks. First, Mitch gets pinched for selling a faulty motorcycle (of all things!) to Jigsaw's nephew. Next, he ends up in some red spiral thing that slices him the f--k up. Though I'm not a hundred percent sure how... (seriously, what the f--k is this thing?)
- Some random strain of pig flu is what cracks the case wide open. Seriously. You're watching Saw 53 and it all turns because of Science!
- And finally, who the f--k says tiss-yoo? It's tish-yoo for f--k's sake. And how does this make Jigsaw infinitely creepier? Tiss-you? Gross.
I live in Pennsylvania now, and just in case you're not aware, there's been a tremendous amount of talk about a sports parade that recently occured in my area. Being a die-hard fan of all Boston-area sports teams (and a bitter prick), I immediately change the channel or shut the radio off when they start to discuss any of the events of the last week during the game. And when someone jokingly asked me if I was going to attend this f--king parade after the game, I thought to myself...f--k that.
I'd rather fall into a giant pit of syringes, instead.