Disclaimer: I like me some Nightwish, at least when they’re assisted by a full orchestra, as they’ve been on their past few albums. But let’s be real for a moment: they’re also cheesy as fuck. Main songwriter Tuomas Holopainen is very much of the Wagner/Andrew Lloyd Webber/Jim Steinman mold, which means if you were to cut him open, he’d likely bleed Cheez Whiz. And so while I wasn’t necessarily paying much attention to the lyrical content while listening to their newest album Imaginaerum, occasionally a particular line would jump out in such fashion as to make me nearly chuckle out loud. After consulting my trusty liner notes (a benefit of still buying physical copies, people!) here are the album’s top 10 cheesiest lines:

1. “I want my tears back, I want my tears back now!” (from “I Want My Tears Back”)
2. “Restless souls will put on their dancing shoes; mindless ghouls with lots of limbs to lose.” (from “Scaretale”)
3. “A catnap in the ghost town of my heart.” (from “Song Of Myself”)
4. “Once upon a night we’ll wake to the carnival of life.” (from “Last Ride Of The Day”)
5. “A midnight flight into Covington Woods; a princess and a panther by my side.” (from “Song Of Myself”)
6. “I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me. All pride has left his wild drooling eyes. I wish I had my leg to spare.” (from “Song Of Myself”)
7. “Once upon a time in a daymare…” (from “Scaretale”)
8. “This deep sigh coiled around my chest; Intoxicated by a major chord.” (from “Slow, Love, Slow”)
9. “Burning farms and squealing pigs, a pool of snakes to swim with; Oh sweet poison – bite me! bite me!” (from “Scaretale”)
10. “The mermaids you turned loose brought back your tears.” (from “Turn Loose The Mermaids”)

I’m a huge Van Halen fan. I don’t talk about them often, because let’s face it – aside from a borderline-disastrous reunion with Sammy Hagar in ’04, and a tour with Roth in ’07-’08, the band has been less active than the surviving guy from Milli Vanilli’s manager. In short, it’s been tough being a Van Halen fan these past 14 years (and I actually liked parts of Van Halen 3). I’ve already shared my thoughts on who I feel is the group’s best singer in the long run, as well as my opinion of Eddie Van Halen in the wake of shit-canning original bassist Michael Anthony in favor of his teenaged son.

But after over a decade of being jerked around, I’ll take what I can get; at this point, I’d still have been excited even if they brought Gary Cherone back. So if it means getting new music from these guys, I’ll deal with the awkward site of a 20-yr-old kid jamming with a bunch of dudes in their 50s, knowing that at least Chickenfoot is putting money in Michael Anthony’s pocket (he deserves it).

My biggest fear with a full-on Roth reunion (new album ‘n all), is that the band would regress back to the more one-dimensional, party rock vibe that they did nearly exclusively during the Roth era. I love all periods of the band, but they didn’t exactly grow that much with Roth at the helm – who always compensated for his so-so vocal range and limited lyrical abilities with his over-the-top persona and wild stage antics. I feared that, though Roth’s vocals remain in surprisingly good shape, anything “new” the band does with him would seem trite and lightweight compared to the leaps and bounds the band achieved with Hagar (though they only did four albums with him, no two sound identical). It should be noted, however, that a relatively modern, forward-thinking Van Halen with Roth did exist to some extent, in the two songs they cut for 1996′s Best Of Volume I release. (“Can’t Get This Stuff No More” was largely forgettable, but “Me Wise Magic” was a winner.) Despite Roth back at the mic, musically the songs still sounded like a natural progression from their previous album Balance.

And so after being shrouded in secrecy, Van Halen 4.0′s new album, A Different Kind of Truth, is suddenly right around the corner (Feb. 7), but so far, the two songs I’ve heard have done nothing to absolve my fears:

Take first single “Tattoo,” which is simply a reworking of a 1978 song the band had called “Down In Flames,” originally intended (supposedly) for the Van Halen II album. Then there’s “She’s the Woman,” the other “new” song the band had debuted at their well-received club date in NYC last week. Only problem with that one? It’s a demo the band had kicking around since 1976 or so.

While I’ll still be excited for this album no matter what (both songs seem decent, if “Tattoo” sounds a bit stiff), it only leads me to wonder how many other “new” songs on this album are simply retooled demos and ideas from their heyday? So far it’s the sound of a band retreating, a band playing it safe by hopping in a time machine; you can knock something like Van Halen 3 all you want (an album that suffered from weak production more than anything, in my opinion), but at least they tried going onwards and upwards, like with the borderline-proggy single “Without You” or the Peter Gabriel-esque “Once.”

Give me something new guys, not just reheated scraps. But as always is the case with VH, I’ll take what I can get.

Rocky Balboa

When Stallone announced that he was actually going through with a sixth Rocky movie, people rightfully laughed their asses off. After all, Rocky-as-an-old-man jokes had been around since the mid-80s (“I hear in the next one he fights Alzheimer’s! Har har har”) – and yet, twenty years on, it was actually happening. Critics and Rocky fans alike had every right to feel skeptical, not least of all because by 2006, Stallone’s career was in the direct-to-DVD shitter (Eye See You, anyone?) and bringing Rocky back after 16 years of hibernation just seemed like a last ditch effort for Stallone to stay relevant and on the big screen. As it turned out, 16 years was the right amount of time Stallone needed to bring his saga to the proper conclusion Rocky V just couldn’t provide.

Admittedly, Rocky Balboa stumbles a bit out of the gate. Rather than let age and retirement alone weather Rocky, writer/director Stallone saw fit to kill off Adrian in the interim. So now Rocky is a melancholy widower too, and he spends the first few scenes moping around and dragging brother-in-law Paulie on a tour of all their old haunts from the original (Mickey’s gym, the pet shop, the old apartment, etc.), complete with some flashbacks. It seems at first like a shameless attempt to immediately flood the viewer with nostalgia, but hey, it sorta works. When he’s not doing a sightseeing tour of Philly, Rocky runs a restaurant (fittingly called Adrian’s), where he plays host and entertains guests with stories of his past. He also has a strained relationship with his son, who’s now a twentysomething looking to gain a foothold in the corporate world, but somewhat resentful of his father for casting “a big shadow.” The movie finally kicks into gear when ESPN airs a simulated, hypothetical fight between a younger Rocky and the current heavyweight champion Mason Dixon, which has everyone wondering “what if?”

Only about a third of Rocky Balboa is boxing related; the movie is mostly concerned with Rocky’s fractured relationship with his son, his budding friendship with Marie (the young girl he walked home in the original) and her son, and the effects of aging and the refusal to give in to it. By the time the training montage and fight roll around, you’re inevitably getting antsy. Stallone doesn’t – excuse the pun – pull any punches when it comes to his age, though obviously this is all a bit far-fetched anyway. I like what he does with the fight, which is filmed like an actual HBO boxing match, without the over-exaggerated punches found in the previous movies. And Dixon (played by boxer Antonio Tarver) isn’t an over-the-top villain of the Clubber Lang/Ivan Drago mold; he’s a tough opponent, but basically a regular guy.

Unlike most years-later sequels, Rocky Balboa not only had a good excuse for happening, it practically needed to happen. It would’ve been a shame if the series really went out with Rocky V, which this movie largely ignores (including the whole brain damage thing, which has magically gone away). While it’s obviously not as good as the original or as entertaining and fun as Rocky III and IV, it’s arguably the second most well-made and thoughtful of the series, and it gives Rocky the fitting and dignified conclusion he deserves.

Least favorite part: Probably Rocky’s son’s whiny speech about not being able to make a name for himself. Though of course, Rocky’s rebuttal sweetens the pot.

Favorite (non-montage or fight) part: Gotta go with Duke’s little speech before Rocky starts “buildin’ some hurtin’ bombs.” With the exception of Rocky and Paulie, Duke’s the only other character to appear in all six movies, probably because he’s the motherfuckin’ man.

Rocky V (sorta) had the right idea, but the wrong execution. In order to appreciate anything about it, one has to first step back and realize how thoroughly preposterous the series had gotten, no matter how entertaining it was. Rocky had become an age-defying boxing superhero, and almost a completely different person than that scrappy underdog of the first film. Rocky V tries to recapture the spirit of the original by sending Rocko back to his Philly roots, but unfortunately it happens via an idiotic plot contrivance that involves hapless brother-in-law Paulie losing the Balboa family fortune to a shady accountant. It’s a simple but hackneyed way of trying to make Rocky the underdog again, as if robbing him of his wealth will make him more likeable. The ridiculousness doesn’t stop there: Rocky & Co. return home from Russia (this one picks up immediately after Rocky IV), only Rocky’s son has inexplicably aged five years since they left him home in the last one, and is now played by Sage Stallone, Sly’s son. What, did they stay in Russia for five years? Even worse, Rocky now has mild brain damage as a result of the Drago fight, and has to immediately retire. At first this seems like an excuse to change up the plot and keep him out of the ring (and it is), but it also becomes apparent that it’s an excuse to have Rocky once again act like the lovable but loopy buffoon he was in the first one. The whole setup smacks of desperation; surely there could have been more plausible and less dramatic ways of taking the character back down a notch or two, but then again these movies have never been too concerned with plausibility.

Now that Rocky’s retired and bored, he reopens Mickey’s old gym, and eventually ends up training a young hotshot named Tommy Gunn, played by real-life boxer Tommy Morrison. Rocky becomes a mentor to Tommy, eager to teach Tommy everything Mickey instilled in him, but inadvertently ends up neglecting his own son in the process. Tommy seems humble and kind at first, reminding Rocky of himself in his early days, but it soon becomes apparent that Tommy is cocky, and easily seduced by money and fame. When he signs up with a sleazy Don King-like boxing promoter and leaves Rocky in the dust, we see it coming from a mile away – especially since we know this promoter is just using Tommy to bait Rocky back into the ring. It all comes to a head when Tommy, taunted by the press as being a “paper champion” and unable to escape Rocky’s shadow, challenges his former mentor to a street fight, and of course Rocky eventually gives in and knocks him on his ass. It’s so asinine and laughable, yet strangely entertaining.

Rocky V clearly tries to shake off the extravagant nature of parts III and IV (it even has original director John Avildsen back at the helm), but it ends up being equally ridiculous in its own way, and even worse, forgettable. During an interview, Stallone was asked to rate the Rocky movies on a scale of 1-10, and he gave Rocky V a zero. I would actually disagree with him; giving the movie a zero implies that there isn’t a single worthy part to it, but Rocky V has at least two:

1. The first is a poignant and touching flashback of a younger Rocky with Mickey, presumably around the time frame of the first film. “Rocky” is played by a stand-in (or if it is Stallone, they make sure to obscure his face), but Mickey is of course Burgess Meredith, who makes a welcome cameo.
2. The second (hold your laughter) is actually the end credits, which consist of a B&W photo montage of moments from every previous movie, set to a corny but moving song by Elton John, that’s thoroughly Rocky-esque. (The song, however, is called “The Measure of a Man,” which if taken literally sounds kinda funny coming from Elton John.) Perhaps this can only be experienced from watching the entire series over a short period of time, but watching these credits will likely bring on (to quote Cinemassacre’s James Rolfe) “sentimental waves of nostalgia” as you recap the series you just watched, and you’ll find that this alone almost makes for a satisfying conclusion to the Rocky saga. It’s cheesy but it’s heartfelt, and cheesiness and heart (and montages) are arguably what Rocky is all about.

Rocky V was clearly intended to be a finale to the series (if those end credits weren’t enough evidence), but that’s something only Rocky Balboa would be able to pull off, a whopping 16 years later. In hindsight, it’s no surprise that its best moments are the ones that harken back to earlier and better parts of the series. Check it out to satisfy your curiosity, but there’s probably no harm in skipping this one either.

Least favorite part: Most of the scenes with Rocky’s son, and practically any scene with “George Washington Duke,” the sleazy Don King clone. They’re both annoying characters.

Favorite (non-montage or fight) part: Definitely the scene with Mickey, as described above, but I’ll also throw in the scene where Rocky watches his former protégé win the title on television. Despite having been thrown to the curb, Rocky still watches with enthusiasm, hitting his punching bag in sync with the fight. You wonder why Rocky’s even bothering to watch, until you realize he’s still living vicariously through Tommy, and that that’s a part of his life he’s not fully ready to quit.

Rocky IV is, in some ways, the polar opposite of the original Rocky. Yet behind the original, it’s arguably the second most popular (often neck-and-neck, I’d say, with Rocky III). Some might argue that it’s the most superfluous of all the Rocky sequels; instead of advancing the character like previous sequels did, this is merely another “adventure” for him – much like how most of the Bond movies are just another adventure for 007. It’s certainly the leanest of all the Rocky movies; if you strip away the opening (which, like Rocky II‘s opening, recaps the previous movie’s ending), the multiple montages, and James Brown’s performance, the movie’s like an hour long. Supporting players (Adrian, Paulie, Apollo), though present, mostly fall by the wayside, and are reduced to caricatures: Adrian the worried but supportive wife, Paulie the perpetually complaining comic relief, etc. It’s all about Rocky’s quest to (once again) overcome the odds as he faces a new opponent, and there doesn’t seem to be much need for anything else. Like I said, by this point it’s like a Bond film, or a comic book: a new villain, a new challenge. And the entertainment value is through the roof.

The movie starts with an image of an American and a Soviet boxing glove colliding and exploding. If that doesn’t clue you in that we’re a long way from the first Rocky, nothing will. Then we’re treated to a pretty pointless recap of Rocky and Apollo’s friendly sparring session from the end of Rocky III, which I guess serves to show people who skipped that one that these two are buddies now. Then we check in on Rocky’s clan as they celebrate Paulie’s birthday. Rocky’s gift to Paulie is a giant talking robot maid; clearly, Rocky has so much money he can afford things in 1985 that still don’t exist in 2011. After this, the movie gets down to business: a towering, Terminator-like Soviet boxer named Ivan Drago is coming to visit the States, and naturally, an attention-starved Apollo wants first dibs to fight him. The match is set up as a friendly exhibition bout, and Apollo, ever the showman, stages it in Vegas and has James Brown open the show. The Russians are all business, however, and Drago knocks the shit out of Apollo, before delivering a final blow to the head that kills him. Now Rocky wants revenge, of course, and since the American Boxing Commission won’t sanction the fight, he relinquishes his title and heads off to Russia, to grow a beard and get his montage on.

The funniest thing about Rocky IV is how montage heavy it is. In addition to a back-to-back pair of training montages, there’s an earlier montage that’s essentially a full-length music video, where Rocky speeds around in his Lamborghini while reminiscing about the good ol’ days when Apollo was still alive. Add in a full-length performance by James Brown, and you can imagine just how short Stallone’s script must have been. Still, it’s entertaining as hell, and in the wake of the slightly bloated Rocky II, perhaps less is more sometimes. The score by Vince DiCola (replacing Bill Conti) is radically different (read: ’80s as fuck) but no less awesome, and songs like “Heart’s On Fire” and “No Easy Way Out” were destined for people’s workout mixes. Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” of course makes an encore appearance too, and new addition “Burning Heart” is just as cheesy and great. Anyway, back to the plot. Rocky takes the beating of a lifetime but, as always, somehow perseveres. As countless others have joked before, Rocky IV ends the Cold War. After giving him a suitably chilly reception, the Russian crowd inexplicably switches sides and begins cheering for Rocky midway through the fight, even though their own hero (Ivan Drago) ostensibly does nothing wrong. Rocky seems dumbfounded by it too, but somehow whips up a little motivational speech at the end about how everybody can change. Better cue up “Heart’s On Fire” again, cause that song is the tits. Rocky IV has no shortage of cheese, and on paper it sounds completely ludicrous, and a far cry from what made the original so endearing. Well, it’s both of those things…but it’s also ridiculously fun, so all is forgiven. Check it out.

Least favorite part: That stupid fucking robot. Really, Sly?

Favorite (non-montage or fight) part: Slim pickings, since half of this movie is a montage or a fight. I always liked the little scene where Duke, Apollo’s former trainer, gives Rocky a pep talk before sending him off to Montage Land. “You’re gonna have to go through hell. Worse than any nightmare you ever dreamed. But in the end, I know you’ll be the one standing.” Of course, one could argue that what he was really talking about was Rocky V…

At the very start of Rocky III, it was clear this series was headed in a slightly different direction. It begins with a montage of Rocky – now the heavyweight champ – pummeling his opponents left and right, while a plethora of various headlines and magazine clippings sweep across the screen. Rocky is now a superstar, no longer bumming around the streets and gyms of Philly, and shit, he hardly even looks the same. Stallone was also prepping for his debut as Rambo when he did Rocky III, and it saw him pack on the muscles while dropping dangerously low in body fat. (According to Stallone in his book Sly Moves, a typical day of shooting Rocky III also consisted of running several miles, swimming and weightlifting, all the while getting by on as little as a single can of tuna and multiple cups of coffee.) But the most glaring change is in Rocky’s personality; in an early scene where he bails Paulie out of jail, we’re introduced to the new Rocky: a stiff, articulate man wrapped in an expensive suit, and now living in a mansion. Rocky likes driving his son around in a golf cart, and trains for fights in a hotel ballroom while spectators eat finger foods and pose for pictures with him. Rocky III may be known most for introducing Mr. T and “Eye of the Tiger,” but to me it’s the movie where Rocky acts like a douche.

At least, for the first half of the movie. Rocky gets all butthurt when he finds out Mickey had been handpicking his opponents in order to keep him safe and at the top as long as possible, and puts off his planned retirement in order to take on a brash, big-mouthed challenger named Clubber Lang (Mr. T). Predictably, Rocky gets his shit ruined in the ring and loses his title, and (perhaps unpredictably), Mickey passes away. And so, the stage is set for Rocky to get back to his roots, rediscover himself, and win back the title. In a nice twist, he’s helped by former opponent Apollo Creed, who seems to hate Clubber as much as Rocky does, and seeks a return to the limelight, albeit out of the ring. Apollo takes Rocky (accompanied, of course, by Adrian and Paulie) back to the dingy old gym where he used to train, and after some melodramatic soul-searching, Rocky comes back around, and with Apollo’s help gets back the “Eye of the Tiger,” and the hunger to be the champ again. This, of course, leads to the most homoerotic ending to a training montage ever.

I’m sure there’s a lot of people who think the many sequels were largely unnecessary (and there’s plenty of evidence to back that up), but I like how they show Rocky at all stages of his career. We’ve seen him as a hungry fighter at the bottom, and now we see him as a wealthy champ who’s lost his edge. Rocky III, however, was the start of a different type of Rocky movie; for the first time, the opponent is portrayed as more of a straight-up villain. While Apollo was arrogant and a little obnoxious, he was still very human. Clubber, on the other hand, is vicious and hateful, and much more one-dimensional. Rocky III also tries to break from the pack by one-upping its predecessors in entertainment value: we’re treated to two big fights instead of one, plus a boxer vs. wrestler exhibition match that sees Rocky trying to topple “Thunderlips” (played by Hulk Hogan). As you might expect, it’s equal parts ridiculous and awesome. And then there’s Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger,” which would pave the way for a succession of catchy, energetic pop/rock songs on a Rocky soundtrack. Overall, Rocky III is a good time. It may seem a bit shallow and ridiculous when compared to the original, but eventually Rocky IV would come along, and make it seem almost grounded by comparison…

Least favorite part: Not a bad part per se, but I always found it odd that the marching band plays “Gonna Fly Now” during the ceremony where Rocky’s statue is unveiled. Acknowledging Rocky’s theme song in a Rocky movie is like breaking the fourth wall.

Favorite (non-montage or fight) part: Gotta be Paulie smashing the Rocky pinball machine out of jealousy. I’ve wanted to do that to a pinball machine before, but for a different reason.

Rocky II doesn’t tend to get a whole lot of love from casual Rocky fans. Most of the attention goes to the original (which is a classic) and parts III and IV (which are flashy and entertaining). Not helping its case is the fact that it’s mostly an extension/rehash of the original; Rocky retires after taking a beating from Apollo, marries Adrian, then tries to settle into a legitimate lifestyle after spending all of the money he earned from the fight. Meanwhile, Apollo’s ego is bruised when the press question whether he really earned that victory over Rocky, and bullies the “Italian Stallion” into a rematch. Much of Rocky II is mundane – literally the first hour and change is devoted to showing Rocky foolishly spend away his money, and trying but failing to capitalize on his temporary fame by doing product endorsements. Because he doesn’t want to go back to being a strong-arm for local loan shark Gazzo (he gives brother-in-law Paulie the gig instead), Rocky takes a job at the same meat plant where Paulie used to work, and eventually ends up working as sort of a janitor at Mickey’s gym.

Rocky is completely whipped in this flick. He initially starts training with Mickey again, but because he knows Adrian doesn’t approve and wants him to stay retired, he can’t get his shit together in order to train properly. The most insufferable part of the movie happens when Adrian lapses into a coma due to complications after giving birth to their son. Just when things should be picking up and we’re primed to see Rocky take on Apollo again, the movie detours into straight-up soap opera territory for 20 minutes. Eventually Adrian comes to and tells Rocky to “win,” we’re finally off to montage and fight territory, and all is right with the world again. And in case you’re insanely nearsighted, Rocky wins this time.

Rocky II is perhaps the most low-key of the sequels, and it’s easy to see why it’s sometimes overlooked. I definitely saw the original and parts III and IV multiple times before getting around to watching this one. It doesn’t advance the character as much as some of the other sequels would, mainly because it picks up right after the first one left off, and sees him fighting the same opponent again. And yet, that’s probably a good thing too, since this is the last time we see Rocky before he becomes a celebrity boxing superstar in Rocky III. Overall, I like it. I think it makes for a nice companion piece to the original, even if it doesn’t hold its own terribly well.

Least favorite part: Gotta be the whole coma thing, as mentioned above. It stops the movie in its tracks just when it should be gaining speed, and it’s too melodramatic for its own good. Without it, the movie would probably be a good 10-15 minutes shorter, which feels about right.

Favorite (non-montage or fight) part: It’s probably the scenes where Rocky is sweeping the floors and carrying other fighters’ spit buckets at Mickey’s gym. Sure it’s degrading (especially since the other fighters mock him) but it speaks volumes about Rocky’s character – like he tells Mickey, he just wants to be around it, even if he can’t fight anymore.

Around this time back in 2006, MGM released (or re-released) a box set of all five Rocky movies, to piggy-back/cash in on the release of Rocky Balboa. I promptly picked it up and watched all five – precisely one each night, after which my first priority was hitting the theater. Every year since, I find myself re-watching at least a couple of the movies (Rocky II and V tend to get passed over the most), but when possible I try to watch all six between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The way I see it, the Rocky series always had a strong connection to the holiday season. Why that is I’m not really sure, but for some reason every movie (except Rocky III) seems to take place at least partially over the holidays. In Rocky, his first date with Adrian is on Thanksgiving, and his fight with Apollo is on New Year’s Day. Rocky II‘s big fight is on Thanksgiving, and in Rocky IV he fights Ivan Drago in Russia on Christmas. As for Rocky V and Rocky Balboa, they both partially occur over the holidays as well. In addition, every movie with the exception of parts II and III were released to theaters in either November or December, and you can usually find them on TV in these months more than any other time of year.

Above all else, Rocky is the ultimate feel-good movie – the classic underdog story that virtually anyone can get behind. And like some of the best holiday movies, there’s an inherent level of corniness to it that’s somehow more acceptable and even a little infectious during this time of year. So crack a few eggs into a glass (or just crack open a beer) and get some Rocky going this year:

Rocky is one of my favorite movies of all time. Yet as the years go on, it seems to get harder to explain just what makes it so great. Its simple, underdog story is one that’s been done to death in the 35 (!) years since (and Rocky wasn’t exactly the first to do it either), yet it arguably does it best. And despite creating two of the most iconic film characters ever (the other being Rambo), Sylvester Stallone was never taken very seriously as an actor, even if his performance here once made Roger Ebert label him a “young Marlon Brando.” And while many recognize that he wrote Rocky, what some don’t know is that the then-unknown Stallone turned down some very lucrative offers to buy his screenplay, opting instead to sell it for next to nothing, if it meant he could play the role himself. It was a gamble that could’ve ended his career before it even began, yet Rocky was a surprise smash and the rest, of course, is history.

Anyone who has seen some of the flashier, more action-oriented sequels before this one (hey, I did) may be surprised at how little actual boxing is in this movie. It’s really just a backdrop for the characters and story, and it’s a testament to how memorable the characters are that you’re still thoroughly engrossed. Later sequels, for example, would resort to melodramatic tactics  like putting a character in a coma, or killing someone off, in order to keep the viewer emotionally involved. Bill Conti’s score is memorable and timeless, and “Gonna Fly Now” can still get the blood pumping after all these years.

But perhaps the most appealing thing about Rocky – especially in retrospect – is just how humble it all is, right down to Rocky/Stallone himself. Here was a nobody playing a nobody; before Stallone became ripped-beyond-belief for the ’80s, and when Rocky was just a “ham n’ egger” living in a cramped Philly apartment and pulling in 40 bucks a fight. While some of its sequels would keep the entertainment value high, they generally lacked the one thing Rocky has in abundance: charm.

Least favorite part: Excellent as it may be, Rocky still has a couple of (very minor) flaws. Personally, I could have done without the scene where Rocky walks a young girl from the neighborhood home, who’s on the verge of becoming a whore rotten apple. It shows Rocky going out of his way to be a nice guy, even though we knew that from the start. To me, it’s an unnecessary scene that tries a little too hard, even though it does eventually have a payoff in Rocky Balboa.

Favorite (non-montage or fight) part: One of the series’ most memorable images is of Rocky chugging the raw eggs. But for me, it’s that whole scene: waking up in his cold apartment at 4:30 a.m., turning on the radio, downing those eggs, and then hitting the still-dark and freezing streets of Philly for a jog. Those montages may be entertaining as hell, but nothing portrays the bleak and unglamorous side of his training like this little scene.

Ghostbusters II tends to take a lot more flack than it really deserves. It may pale in comparison to the first one, but let’s face it – any sequel would. One valid criticism is that too much of it is a retread of the original; after triumphantly saving New York, we find our heroes have been put out of business, now relegated to hosting birthday parties and cheap cable TV shows. People still accuse them of being frauds, which is sort of inexplicable considering all the shit that went down. Furthermore, we find that Bill Murray and Sigourney Weaver’s characters did not end up together as we were made to think. Everyone’s on an uphill climb once again, as if writers Dan Aykroyd & Harold Ramis had no other ideas for continuing the story. Regardless, GB II is a lot of fun, so much so that I can’t see why some fans have chosen to ignore it. Take the sticks out of your asses, people.  3.5/5

• Slam one down every time poor Winston gets a line of dialogue.

Dawn of the Dead (2004)

I remember most horror fans greeting the news of a Dawn of the Dead remake the same way they would greet the news that they just contracted herpes, with “How the fuck could this have happened?!” being the main question. This was, if you recall, before the lion’s share of other major horror remakes surfaced; at the time, remaking stuff like Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street and of course Dawn of the Dead still seemed unthinkable. Furthermore, who is this Zack Snyder douche and why are they letting his unqualified ass ruin Dawn of the Dead? Fortunately, Snyder didn’t ruin it; he merely (along with screenwriter James Gunn) reinvented it, in a way that doesn’t piss on Romero’s original. Unfortunately for both Snyder and horror fans, it would A) end up being Snyder’s best effort to date (sorry, 300 fans) and B) end up being the exception to the rule that most horror remakes do in fact blow. If Romero’s original was like Alien (stay with me here), Snyder’s version would most certainly be Aliens – it’s louder and faster, and in some respects a completely different experience, but it still occupies the same universe. It’s as if they wrote the words “zombies” and “shopping mall” on the drawing board, then went their own way with it. Ving Rhames is appropriately bad-ass, and Jake Weber makes a convincingly insecure leader of sorts. But the show-stealer here is a pre-Modern Family Ty Burell , as a snarky sleazeball you love to hate. And really, let’s all give this flick credit for giving us the next best thing to actually seeing Jay Leno shot in the head.  4/5

• Down the hatch for every zombie headshot, then pour one out for our homie C.J.

Halloween II

I might be the first person to make this particular claim, but Halloween II is a lot like Ghostbusters II. They’re both obviously inferior sequels, that despite their flaws, are still heavily enjoyable for fans who didn’t choose to write them off. Although the original seemed to set up a sequel, that was the last thing on creators John Carpenter and Debra Hill’s minds. Michael Myers’ disappearance at the end was shocking (well, for the time anyway) and the following interior shots of the house were meant to imply that he could be anywhere. Yet in Halloween II he’s simply down the street, scaring old ladies and seemingly shaking off those six bullets he just took to the chest. It’s in this one where it’s revealed that Myers is actually Laurie Strode’s brother, something screenwriter Carpenter freely admits to being the product of drinking while writing. So there’s no longer any mystery to it when Myers follows Laurie to the hospital, systematically killing off the staff in order to get to her. It’s all a little ridiculous this time, but most of the sequels to come would end up making Halloween II retroactively look pretty damn good. Director Rick Rosenthal didn’t have the same knack for suspense that Carpenter did (though Carpenter is rumored to have directed some of it) and the more synth-heavy score is a step down, but the eerie hospital setting is used effectively, the finale is satisfactory, and as a little bonus, the title sequence is unexpectedly awesome.  3/5

• Have a drink whenever the hospital staff are bullshitting instead of doing their jobs.

Zodiac is much more of a police procedural than a horror movie, but apparently a lot of people expected it to be more of the latter. I didn’t know much about the real-life Zodiac killings before seeing this, but the good news is you don’t have to. It’s the kind of film that rewards patience; it’s two hours and forty minutes of much talk and little action, but as the case unravels and the body count and suspects begin to mount, it’ll get under your skin. It’s a meticulously crafted account of what happened, and it’s clear that director David Fincher has no interest in glazing over details for the sake of making things more “cinematic.” Of course, it’s not entirely balanced; the screenplay by James Vanderbilt was adapted from the book Zodiac, written by Robert Graysmith (and played here by Jake Gyllenhaal). After years of obsessing over the case, Graysmith was practically certain who the killer was, despite the lack of hard evidence to prove it. As such, the film seems to hammer home the notion that Arthur Leigh Allen was the Zodiac, even though Allen died in 1992, and the case remains frustratingly unsolved.  4/5

• Have a drink every time Robert Downey Jr.’s character does.

The Mother of Tears is Italian horror-meister Dario Argento’s belated conclusion to his “Three Mothers” trilogy, following Suspiria and Inferno. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen the first two (they’re really only connected thematically), but I’ll give a dollar to anyone who can explain what the fuck is going on here. After an ancient urn is uncovered near a church cemetery, all hell breaks loose in Rome, courtesy of a witch and her demonic followers. People are attacked and raped in the streets, a woman is possessed and throws her baby off a bridge – you know, the usual. Caught in the middle of this is the director’s daughter Asia Argento, as an art student who discovers that her mother was a good witch who used to battle the bad ones. Meanwhile, I discover Asia is kind of a terrible actress and this movie is fucking bonkers. Anyhow, the main witch is killed in the most anti-climactic way, at which the credits roll and make good use of the dude from Cradle of Filth. This movie was actually kinda boring, despite having scenes where a woman is choked with her own intestines and a priest gets a butcher knife to the face. I realize in retrospect that that’s a pretty amazing feat. Also, three kids are murdered in this movie. Three! Dario, you sicko you.  2/5

• Have a good ol’ drink whenever you see some good ol’ gore.

Dreamcatcher was a novel written by Stephen King when he was recovering from being hit by a van in 1999. God knows what drugs he was on when he wrote it (longhand), but the novel is supposedly just as fucking retarded as the movie version, which is very fucking retarded. It’s about four childhood friends (what else?) from Maine (where else?) who one day rescue an autistic kid from a group of bullies, who in turn gives each of them minor telepathic abilities. Years later these four dysfunctional friends meet for their annual hunting trip, when – wouldn’t you know it – there’s an alien invasion taking place. Lest you’re still trying to take this movie seriously, the smaller alien creatures are referred to as “shit weasels,” and Morgan Freeman shows up, chewing all the scenery and sporting eyebrows that look primed for an epic battle with Tom Selleck’s mustache (see above). While I was on board with the idea of four lifelong friends fending off aliens, that never really happens, as two of them are wiped out pretty fucking quick, and the third gets possessed by the boss alien. Which leaves the most boring one to save the day, and he’s played by Thomas “Plain” Jane. This is the kind of movie that’s bad in a spectacular way. I can’t imagine anybody involved keeping a straight face once the cameras stopped rolling. Recommended if you’re in the mood for a first-rate (but occasionally entertaining) pile of steaming shit.  1.5/5

• Break out the hard stuff once Timothy Olyphant bites it, cause it’s all downhill from there.

House on Haunted Hill (1999)

In 1999, movie producers Joel Silver and Robert Zemeckis started up Dark Castle Entertainment, a production company (initially) intended to remake the ’50s and ’60s horror films of William Castle. Their first Castle remake was House on Haunted Hill. It didn’t fare too well at the box office, at least in comparison to Jan de Bont’s The Haunting, 1999′s other haunted house flick, which beat it to theaters and subsequently left a rancid taste in people’s mouths. House on Haunted Hill, however, is the superior movie. It’s trash, for sure, but entertaining trash. Geoffrey Rush hams it up, channeling Vincent Price by way of James Woods, and he practically makes the movie. The rest of the cast is filled out by a young Taye Diggs and a pre-X-Men Famke Janssen, with Peter Gallagher and Ali Larter in the mix as well. Perhaps most randomly, SNL‘s Chris Kattan shows up as the neurotic young owner who inherited the “house”, and perhaps most amazingly, he’s not entirely annoying. The most pleasant surprise about this movie is that it actually manages to be pretty creepy on occasion. The best parts (aside from practically any scene with Rush) involve the ghosts of the sanitarium’s lunatic doctor and his staff fucking up people’s party plans, and some of the eerie visual effects take a cue from Jacob’s Ladder. However like so many other horror titles that build up a considerable amount of the viewer’s good will, it all turns to shit in the end, collapsing in spectacular fashion as the “evil” manifests itself as a giant CGI shit-cloud that looks created by fucking MS Paint. It’s not quite enough to ruin the good time that came before it, but it’s close.  3/5

• Take a drink every time Geoffrey Rush and Famke Janssen hurl sarcastic insults at each other.

I Spit on Your Grave (2010)

I guess since the Last House on the Left remake faired moderately well, remaking this one was a foregone conclusion, though its unrated release kept it to maybe a dozen theaters nationwide. The best I can say about this one is that it’s at least competently shot, compared to the gritty, handheld and barely-watchable style of the original. Otherwise you pretty much know what you’re getting into: young woman travels to a secluded cabin to write a book, gets terrorized and raped by several nasty locals, then after a death-defying escape, comes back to hunt and kill them. Only in this post-Saw horror environment, our new heroine prefers elaborate, Jigsaw-style deaths for just about everybody, logic and suspension of disbelief be damned. Once again there’s no explanation as to how she survives – at one point it’s implied that she’s been living off the land, but where did she manage to shower and shop at a Banana Republic? I would also like to know how she learned to fish and rig all of her deadly traps, without ever being seen by the redneck brutes combing the area for her body. Rambo’s got nothing on this chick.  1.5/5

• Drink every time someone says the word “horse.” Better make it shots.

Ghostbusters is my favorite movie – that rare flick you loved as a kid, but instead of outgrowing it, found more to like about it as you grew up. That’s thanks in no small part to the comedy, which stays rich long after the wonder of the special effects wears off, and I’ve found myself “getting” more and more of the jokes as I got older. The movie is also the rare – or possibly only – exception to the rule that comedies with big budgets and special effects never work; it manages to maintain that loose, early-Saturday Night Live ragtag vibe amongst the characters, even when the script calls for technobabble and big effects (a balancing act the sequel couldn’t quite pull off). It’s also beautifully shot, with effects work that remarkably still holds up today. And seeing it on the big screen last week was a blast (it’s playing at 500 AMC locations, every Thursday this October), especially since its original theatrical run didn’t include a stop inside my mother’s womb. Just hearing those proton packs fire up in a theater had me smiling like Courtney Love in a meth lab.  5/5

• Take a shot every time Louis gets locked out of his apartment.

Boogeyman is a pretty excellent example of completely wasted potential. It starts off decent enough, with a little scene depicting a kid watching his father get sucked into the closet, presumably by the pesky fucker of the title. Fast forward 15 years, and the kid is now a total pussy who’s afraid of closets (is this a gay subtext?) and fittingly, he’s played by a guy from 7th Heaven. There’s a quick inspired bit where you see the inside of his apartment, stripped of closet and cabinet doors, and even the refrigerator door is see-through. Unfortunately it’s the last time this movie even flirts with being enjoyable. The guy’s mom croaks, sending him back home where he reconnects with his uncle and a childhood friend, and of course his old rickety house with its many closets. For some reason, this movie spends a whole lot of time trying to be a psychological thriller – you’re made to question whether this guy is just a nutcase having visions, even though it’s pretty fucking clear the Boogeyman exists. Every would-be “scare” in this movie is manufactured by way of manic editing and loud obnoxious music stings, and by halfway through it practically becomes a parody of itself. The (brief) climax is just a CGI shit show, and the Boogeyman looks like a fucking trainwreck. How could they do this to THE Boogeyman? Like I said, wasted potential. Anyway, after his girlfriend and uncle are “taken” by Ol’ Boogey, our testosterone-deprived hero defeats him by overcoming his fear and – get this – smashing his old toys with a baseball bat. Then he walks toward his bedroom window while sunlight pours through and anthemic U2-ripoff music starts to play, even though this guy will most likely be arrested in connection with the disappearance of his girlfriend and uncle, and is therefore thoroughly fucked. Just like anyone who chooses to watch this movie.  1/5

• Have a drink every time our protagonist stares at a closet door.

Stephen King’s It fares pretty well for a King adaptation. It’s a bit long-winded (clocking in at over three hours), but the story plays to King’s strengths, about a group of friends banding together to face a sewer-dwelling monster, that for some reason takes on the form of an evil clown. Literally the first half of this thing is spent introducing the characters, mainly through a series of flashbacks that show how they met and defeated the monster for the first time. When “It” resurfaces 30 years later, they must reconvene and try to kill him for good. The second half is basically The Big Chill with a killer clown, and it suffers in comparison to the first, not least of all because these “grown” adults are more annoying and hopeless than their childhood counterparts were. I don’t argue for remaking something too often, but It could potentially benefit from a theatrical makeover. The basic story is great, Tim Curry is suitably creepy as the clown, and the child actors (including a young Seth Green and Jonathan Brandis) are surprisingly solid, but the made-for-TV vibe and some cheesy monster effects take some of the wind out of it. And like a lot of King novels-turned-miniseries, it doesn’t need to be as long as it is.  3/5

• Take a drink whenever It says “float,” or when you see balloons (prepare to get fairly smashed).
  

Friday the 13th: Part 2 is one of my favorites of the series, for several reasons. For starters, it’s virtually free of gimmicks; it’s not in bad 3D (Part 3), it doesn’t exist under the promise of killing Jason off (The Final Chapter), or have him battle a girl with psychic powers (The New Blood), board a cruise ship (Jason Takes Manhattan), go to outer space (Jason X), etc.. No, it’s just a plain old-fashioned Friday movie, with Jason (making his first appearance, taking over for his mother from the first one) running around and killing some camp counselors. Yes, I said running – some people only seem to remember Jason as a slow-walking behemoth, but that was only in the later entries. This movie’s also surprisingly well-shot; director Steve Miner is one of the only Friday directors who would go on to a semi-successful career. Finally, unlike the many entries that would come after, Part 2 actually has sympathetic characters you can root for. There’s a handful of counselors here who clearly don’t deserve their grisly deaths, whereas in future entries the characters are so annoying and stereotypical you can’t wait for Jason to kill them. It’s fun to root for Jason, but unfortunately for the series that also meant the other characters would become more and more faceless and interchangeable, and suddenly the enjoyment of each movie lies squarely on the deaths (which in turn became more and more outlandish and ridiculous).  4/5

• Pound one down whenever someone says Jason’s name, or whenever you hear the famous “Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-” sounds.