gaselite
03-30-2006, 12:34 AM
in the tradition of posting a thread about every tidbit of awesome news possible, I present you this:
Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That!
Directed by Nathanial Hörnblowér
D+
Reviewed by Sean Burns
Opens Fri., March 31
I'm unclear on the specifics of that old adage about a hundred monkeys at a hundred typewriters eventually being able to churn out the collected works of Shakespeare, but thanks to the Beastie Boys' wretched Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That! I'm now 100 percent certain that 50 bouncing, drunken concertgoers armed with consumer-model camcorders cannot produce a watchable record of their evening out.
As explained in a clever opening goof on Scarface, the Boys provided cheap video cameras to a whole slew of lucky ticket holders at a Madison Square Garden show in October 2004. The resulting mountain of shaky amateur footage has been edited within an inch of its life into Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That!, presumably supplying us with the fans'-eye perspective of the sacred event.
This kind of thing probably sounds like a really cool idea when you're high.
Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That! is a visual monstrosity-a machine-gun onslaught of herky-jerky underlit shots blown up on the big screen with pixels the size of cantaloupes. The Boys themselves must've at some point in the process realized the inherent stupidity of their concept, as there's plenty of high-quality professional footage peppered into the mix, as well as a ton of cheesy retro-'80s video color effects that turn the on-screen images into blurry abstractions for huge stretches of time. There are also endless trips to the concession stand, and one of the aspiring young videographers is considerate enough to bring the camera along with him to the men's room.
Having seen the Beastie Boys live when I was in high school, I can attest that it's not all that much of a show we're missing. (Though, were I offered a choice, I doubt I'd rather watch some stranger pee out what seems to be a healthy number of MSG's famous $6 beers.) They tend to run around the stage and shout a lot while Mix Master Mike spins some records, although in this film there's also a brief instrumental interlude devoted to their tedious lounge jams.
MCA (aka Adam Yauch, who here takes directorial credit under his usual pseudonym Nathanial Hörnblowér) has gray hair now, which was quite a sad reality check for this particular child of Licensed to Ill. There's a strange dissonance to the set list, as the Boys' recent awkwardly earnest message music butts uncomfortably against all those priceless old anthems about how totally awesome it is to be young, dumb and shitfaced.
The most revealing moment comes during the great warhorse "Paul Revere," which ignites the crowd into such a deafening sing-along that gray old MCA puts down the mike and takes a little rest-sitting down on the stage to get a better view of the bedlam.
I guess if you're gonna have the crowd shoot your concert movie for you, you might as well let them sing the songs too.
Fool
Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That!
Directed by Nathanial Hörnblowér
D+
Reviewed by Sean Burns
Opens Fri., March 31
I'm unclear on the specifics of that old adage about a hundred monkeys at a hundred typewriters eventually being able to churn out the collected works of Shakespeare, but thanks to the Beastie Boys' wretched Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That! I'm now 100 percent certain that 50 bouncing, drunken concertgoers armed with consumer-model camcorders cannot produce a watchable record of their evening out.
As explained in a clever opening goof on Scarface, the Boys provided cheap video cameras to a whole slew of lucky ticket holders at a Madison Square Garden show in October 2004. The resulting mountain of shaky amateur footage has been edited within an inch of its life into Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That!, presumably supplying us with the fans'-eye perspective of the sacred event.
This kind of thing probably sounds like a really cool idea when you're high.
Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That! is a visual monstrosity-a machine-gun onslaught of herky-jerky underlit shots blown up on the big screen with pixels the size of cantaloupes. The Boys themselves must've at some point in the process realized the inherent stupidity of their concept, as there's plenty of high-quality professional footage peppered into the mix, as well as a ton of cheesy retro-'80s video color effects that turn the on-screen images into blurry abstractions for huge stretches of time. There are also endless trips to the concession stand, and one of the aspiring young videographers is considerate enough to bring the camera along with him to the men's room.
Having seen the Beastie Boys live when I was in high school, I can attest that it's not all that much of a show we're missing. (Though, were I offered a choice, I doubt I'd rather watch some stranger pee out what seems to be a healthy number of MSG's famous $6 beers.) They tend to run around the stage and shout a lot while Mix Master Mike spins some records, although in this film there's also a brief instrumental interlude devoted to their tedious lounge jams.
MCA (aka Adam Yauch, who here takes directorial credit under his usual pseudonym Nathanial Hörnblowér) has gray hair now, which was quite a sad reality check for this particular child of Licensed to Ill. There's a strange dissonance to the set list, as the Boys' recent awkwardly earnest message music butts uncomfortably against all those priceless old anthems about how totally awesome it is to be young, dumb and shitfaced.
The most revealing moment comes during the great warhorse "Paul Revere," which ignites the crowd into such a deafening sing-along that gray old MCA puts down the mike and takes a little rest-sitting down on the stage to get a better view of the bedlam.
I guess if you're gonna have the crowd shoot your concert movie for you, you might as well let them sing the songs too.
Fool