ka-BLAM!!
(a heavy thud…the smell of gunpowder and burnt hair…terrible silence…)
Sike! We’re just fine, we got our gun safety down like a motherfucker!
And besides, the Revolver we’re talking about is the badass British distribution gang who recently made this long awaited announcement:
http://dreadcentral.com/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=2519
So that’s it (trumpet fanfare!), Revolver of the Mother Country wins the race to bring M.P. to the masses, ergo, Revolver rules! We’re honored to join their stable and hope all our mates and birds across the pond enjoy our little Yankee play…bangers and mash for them all!!
Special thanks to the cool kids over at Dread Central who carried this fun bit o’ news and, of course, to our pimps at Screen Media Ventures who sold our pink little ass in the first place. (No bangers and mash for them, though, they get White Castle.)
So that’s the sweet…and now it’s time for the sour. In keeping with our Fair Time policy, I’ll now post a review which actually dates back to our screening at the Maryland Film Festival in May. This is from a blog called Accelerated Decrepitude by a gentleman named Tom Warner and it’s a doozy.
Saturday Night Massacre
Saturday night I made the ill-advised decision to drag my friend Caprice (Saturday night’s Designated Movie Date) to see Murder Party. She didn’t seem to mind because a) we went out for a great meal at the Korean restuarant up the street (Nak Won) and b) her ticket was free (courtesy of patron of the arts Scott Wallace Brown, whose entourage we met up with at the screening). But it was a pretty dumb film, taking narrative elements of Hitchcock’s Rope and Terry Zewigoff’s Art School Confidential without any of their imagination or artistry in this unnecessary tale of arrogant Brooklyn, NY artist manquees who plan to kill for art – and thus also get the perks of fame, sex and grant money. The only cool thing about this movie were the costumes: the victim dork guy was dressed up like the Sir Spamalot knight in Monty Python’s Holy Grail, a girl was dressed up like Daryl Hannah’s Pris character in Bladerunner, and some guy’s baseball get-up remidned [sic] me of the rollerblade thugs from The Warriors. Beyond that, nothing. I did spy Mr. Waters in the front row of the screening, sitting with Kelly Conway. I wonder what he thought. Hmmm.
Most of the cast turned up afterwards across the street to schmooze and follow John Waters around like doting puppies.
http://accelerateddecrepitude.blogspot.com
Yikes! Oh well, Tom’s opinion is his own and entirely valid and that’s why America’s awesome. As a self described “aging hipster” I suppose it’s no wonder that the stridently ageist and anti-hipster M.P. wasn’t his thing.
However, he might need to employ a fact checker for his blog (shouldn’t be a problem, it’s got circulation like Newsweek):
1) Only three of the several cast members in attendance went across the street to a pub after the screening and John Waters was nowhere in sight. And when we do dote, it’s not like puppies, it’s like some beastly Munchausen-suffering mother from a Stephen King book. Believe it.
2) Rollerblades in The Warriors? Okaaay…maybe you were thinking of Hackers or something but as an old old man, you really oughta know better.
Welp, that’s it for now, folks! More groovy announcements coming soon and for the Brooklyn heads, don’t forget about our screening August 3rd, with Rooftop Films, at the Automotive H.S. in Williamsburg!
www.rooftopfilms.com
Cheers!