Just over two years ago, I started co-writing a script with my great buddy, Adam. In April of this year, we filmed for ten days. We then shoot the remaining three and a half days in August. This past Saturday, October 1st, we premiered the full trailer and a photo exhibit, featuring twenty-five of Mary Manchester's gorgeous photos of production. A lot of time, energy, commitment, and dedication went into this film, all from the best individuals I have ever been honored working with.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dead Weight.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
WARNING: NERD ALERT
Alright, Michael Diliberti, I have a bone to pick with you. But first, let me put on my nerd glasses and push them up the bridge of my nose.
I went to the theater this evening to see your first screenplay on the big screen, 30 Minutes or Less. For your first film, I say good work. There were some very funny moments, mostly courtesy of one, Aziz Ansari. Overall, the humor was mediocre at best, but it did shine from time to time. I did indeed laugh like a moron at the John McClane reference at the end of the film. Nice touch. Although, since we are on the topic of references, there are two I need to address.
During the introduction of Danny McBride's character, Dwayne, we see him and Travis (played by Nick Swardson) watching Friday the 13th Part 3: 3D. They then proceed to act as if they are tag teaming Jason, with all sorts of humping and other man love. This is not where the problem lies. The problem is what Dwayne says after his dad, Fred Ward (nice casting!), turns off the movie. In the scene from Friday 3D, we see Jason walking around the barn with Shelly's hockey mask on, which, we all know, takes place in the third act. Upon the movie getting turned off, Dwayne yells at his dad something about missing "3D boobies". I'm sorry, but there are no boobies on screen that follow Jason in the barn. I am unsure of what you were trying to do here, make Dwayne look like an idiot, or assume that no horror fans would be watching your film? Or maybe you figured no one would notice, and if they did, care even. Well, time for you to meet John Pata. Failed horror reference #1.
You know, after thinking about it, maybe you aren't to blame here. Perhaps what Friday 3D scene to show was up to the director, Ruben Fletcher. One might never know who made the mistake, not that it truly matters.
Let's skip ahead a few scenes, now we have Dwayne and Travis holding Nick (Jesse Eisenberg) captive, who is tied up and has duck tape over his mouth. After the tape is removed, Nick begins to yell for help. Dwayne taunts Nick, telling him to yell all he wants, no one will hear him. Dwayne then goes on to say, "It's like space, no one can hear you scream. Just like that movie, Aliens." [Enter tire screeching sound here] I'm sorry, did I just hear Aliens? Plural, right? Oh, Michael. Once again, everyone knows that Aliens tagline is "This Time There's More", and the original Alien features the tagline, "In Space No One Can Hear You Scream". You were so close, just had one too many letters at the end of the title. Failed horror reference #2.
Now, let me close by saying that I by no means intend for this to come off like I'm this high and mighty film prick, who is criticizing everyone's work. That's not the case. Really, in the grand scheme of things, I am drawing attention to how ridiculous and almost pathetic I am for picking up on things like this. I mean seriously, how many people noticed when Donnie goes to see The Evil Dead in Donnie Darko, there are screams coming from the screen that aren't even in The Evil Dead?
Anyone? Anyone? Sigh…
I went to the theater this evening to see your first screenplay on the big screen, 30 Minutes or Less. For your first film, I say good work. There were some very funny moments, mostly courtesy of one, Aziz Ansari. Overall, the humor was mediocre at best, but it did shine from time to time. I did indeed laugh like a moron at the John McClane reference at the end of the film. Nice touch. Although, since we are on the topic of references, there are two I need to address.
During the introduction of Danny McBride's character, Dwayne, we see him and Travis (played by Nick Swardson) watching Friday the 13th Part 3: 3D. They then proceed to act as if they are tag teaming Jason, with all sorts of humping and other man love. This is not where the problem lies. The problem is what Dwayne says after his dad, Fred Ward (nice casting!), turns off the movie. In the scene from Friday 3D, we see Jason walking around the barn with Shelly's hockey mask on, which, we all know, takes place in the third act. Upon the movie getting turned off, Dwayne yells at his dad something about missing "3D boobies". I'm sorry, but there are no boobies on screen that follow Jason in the barn. I am unsure of what you were trying to do here, make Dwayne look like an idiot, or assume that no horror fans would be watching your film? Or maybe you figured no one would notice, and if they did, care even. Well, time for you to meet John Pata. Failed horror reference #1.You know, after thinking about it, maybe you aren't to blame here. Perhaps what Friday 3D scene to show was up to the director, Ruben Fletcher. One might never know who made the mistake, not that it truly matters.
Now, let me close by saying that I by no means intend for this to come off like I'm this high and mighty film prick, who is criticizing everyone's work. That's not the case. Really, in the grand scheme of things, I am drawing attention to how ridiculous and almost pathetic I am for picking up on things like this. I mean seriously, how many people noticed when Donnie goes to see The Evil Dead in Donnie Darko, there are screams coming from the screen that aren't even in The Evil Dead?
Anyone? Anyone? Sigh…
Sunday, July 24, 2011
My Father, The Spaghetti Yeti
Seven years ago today, I sat next to my dad and held his hand as he died.
Talk about a pisser, huh? That's one hell of a way to start a blog.
It's hard to believe it's been seven years. Part of me feels like it's been longer, and at the same time, I feel like it hasn't been that long. Seven years can be a hell of a long time. So much has happened in the past seven years. Not seeing or talking to someone for that amount of time can be hell. Seeing how I'm now 27, that's a quarter of my life without having my dad. A quarter of my life not being able to hear his lame jokes, not seeing him play air drums to the Moody Blues, hear his louder than life snoring, and see that damn smile of his that never left his face.
How is it even possible that my dad has been gone for seven years? As years go by, wounds heal, and it becomes easier to deal with the loss. Even though this is true, one thing doesn't change: this fucking sucks.
My dad was diagnosed with chronic malignant leukemia in 1995, when I was in sixth grade. It was his birthday and he cooked himself a big ass steak. An hour or so later, he had some pain in his abdomen. We all contributed it to dinner, something must not have agreed with him. After a couple more hours passed by, the pain was still there and even growing. So, off to the hospital we went. Believe it or not, this was not my dad's first trip to the hospital on his birthday. My dad had snake bitten luck his whole life, always had some sort of health complication. His track record for his birthday wasn't the best, either. It seemed that something always had to happen, so he somewhat dreaded his birthday. Anyway, as it turned out, a gull bladder stone was the cause of the pain, to which they had to remove his gull bladder. Hey, that's not so bad, right? Well, a simple operation turned our lives into something we never expected.
Talk about a pisser, huh? That's one hell of a way to start a blog.
It's hard to believe it's been seven years. Part of me feels like it's been longer, and at the same time, I feel like it hasn't been that long. Seven years can be a hell of a long time. So much has happened in the past seven years. Not seeing or talking to someone for that amount of time can be hell. Seeing how I'm now 27, that's a quarter of my life without having my dad. A quarter of my life not being able to hear his lame jokes, not seeing him play air drums to the Moody Blues, hear his louder than life snoring, and see that damn smile of his that never left his face.
How is it even possible that my dad has been gone for seven years? As years go by, wounds heal, and it becomes easier to deal with the loss. Even though this is true, one thing doesn't change: this fucking sucks.
My dad was diagnosed with chronic malignant leukemia in 1995, when I was in sixth grade. It was his birthday and he cooked himself a big ass steak. An hour or so later, he had some pain in his abdomen. We all contributed it to dinner, something must not have agreed with him. After a couple more hours passed by, the pain was still there and even growing. So, off to the hospital we went. Believe it or not, this was not my dad's first trip to the hospital on his birthday. My dad had snake bitten luck his whole life, always had some sort of health complication. His track record for his birthday wasn't the best, either. It seemed that something always had to happen, so he somewhat dreaded his birthday. Anyway, as it turned out, a gull bladder stone was the cause of the pain, to which they had to remove his gull bladder. Hey, that's not so bad, right? Well, a simple operation turned our lives into something we never expected.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Cheap Shots, Youth Anthems
To be honest, I have had such a serious love/hate relationship with music over the last 6-8 years. Maybe even more. Music has been one of the biggest aspects of my life for well over 15 years now. I don't even want to think about how much money I have spent on music in my life. Between records, shows, shirts... ugh. The number would probably make me so depressed. Although, it is money well spent. I need music in my life.
How could I hate something that I need in my life? Well, over time, things change. One of those things is music. Not necessarily the music I like, but music as an entity. Bands change, shows change, tastes change, scenes changes... that's just how it goes. For many of years, I was going to shows 3-4 times a month, sometimes more. In the last six years, I've been lucky to get to one show a month.
What the hell happened?
There's many possible answers to this, all of which would be appropriate. However, one answer really stands out: Shows. Shows now aren't what they used to be for me. Did I get burnt out on shows? Are there not as many bands currently playing that I like? Are there no shows in the area that interest me? Did most of the venues get shut down? Do I think crowds suck at shows now? Does not having a car prevent me from seeing the shows I want to? To answer all of these, yes. There's been bands I've seen in recent years, bands I am really into, that I've left the show feeling unfulfilled. Majority of the time, it wasn't the band's fault. It was something with me. Something was lacking, something was missing.
All that changed in December, though. December 10, 2010 to be exact.
Braving some ultra shitty Wisconsin weather, I made my way (in a mighty fine rental car) to Madison, to see my good friend, Leah, and check out The Queers. Somehow, I managed to never see The Queers. I can recall all the times I missed them, though. Feeling like I had to see them before they call it quits, this worked out really well. Plus, it was at The Frequency, a venue I've never been to previously.
Don't know if it was something in the air, the PBRs I had, the company I was with, or some other magical bullshit (perhaps ka), but the show was outstanding. The Frequency was this tiny, dark venue, the kind of place I want to see a punk rock show at, and The Queers were way more solid than I expected. Flat out, the show rocked. I felt good, the show felt good. I have not been to a show like that in a long time, and have not enjoyed a show like that in even longer.
Needless to say, when I found out Dead To Me and Off With Their Heads (two bands I've been really into over the last few years, and have never seen live) were playing at The Frequency, I was fucking pumped. And now, the show is tomorrow night, and I am so damn excited. It feels great to get this excited about a show, I missed this feeling.
Sadly, I will have to miss Friday Fright Night, but it is for good reasons. This is what I will be doing. And all I have to say is: Fuck. Yes.
How could I hate something that I need in my life? Well, over time, things change. One of those things is music. Not necessarily the music I like, but music as an entity. Bands change, shows change, tastes change, scenes changes... that's just how it goes. For many of years, I was going to shows 3-4 times a month, sometimes more. In the last six years, I've been lucky to get to one show a month.
What the hell happened?
There's many possible answers to this, all of which would be appropriate. However, one answer really stands out: Shows. Shows now aren't what they used to be for me. Did I get burnt out on shows? Are there not as many bands currently playing that I like? Are there no shows in the area that interest me? Did most of the venues get shut down? Do I think crowds suck at shows now? Does not having a car prevent me from seeing the shows I want to? To answer all of these, yes. There's been bands I've seen in recent years, bands I am really into, that I've left the show feeling unfulfilled. Majority of the time, it wasn't the band's fault. It was something with me. Something was lacking, something was missing.
All that changed in December, though. December 10, 2010 to be exact.
Braving some ultra shitty Wisconsin weather, I made my way (in a mighty fine rental car) to Madison, to see my good friend, Leah, and check out The Queers. Somehow, I managed to never see The Queers. I can recall all the times I missed them, though. Feeling like I had to see them before they call it quits, this worked out really well. Plus, it was at The Frequency, a venue I've never been to previously.
Don't know if it was something in the air, the PBRs I had, the company I was with, or some other magical bullshit (perhaps ka), but the show was outstanding. The Frequency was this tiny, dark venue, the kind of place I want to see a punk rock show at, and The Queers were way more solid than I expected. Flat out, the show rocked. I felt good, the show felt good. I have not been to a show like that in a long time, and have not enjoyed a show like that in even longer.
Needless to say, when I found out Dead To Me and Off With Their Heads (two bands I've been really into over the last few years, and have never seen live) were playing at The Frequency, I was fucking pumped. And now, the show is tomorrow night, and I am so damn excited. It feels great to get this excited about a show, I missed this feeling.
Sadly, I will have to miss Friday Fright Night, but it is for good reasons. This is what I will be doing. And all I have to say is: Fuck. Yes.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
They've Got Me By The Throat
This marks the beginning of my days as a blogger. Sure, we have a blog for Dead Weight, which I do post on quite regularly, but this is the beginning of my personal blog. In other words: Shit's about to get real.
With that said, I live a pretty simple life. I spend a lot of time with music, (horror) movies, comic books, and being on my bicycle. Chances are, that's what the majority of this blog will be dedicated to. However, my interests aren't limited to what I just mentioned. Who knows what the hell I am going to ramble about on here. The only way to find out is by coming along for the ride. Since I don't have pegs on my bike, you'll have to ride on the handlebars.
As Ray Arnold once said, "Hold onto your butts."
With that said, I live a pretty simple life. I spend a lot of time with music, (horror) movies, comic books, and being on my bicycle. Chances are, that's what the majority of this blog will be dedicated to. However, my interests aren't limited to what I just mentioned. Who knows what the hell I am going to ramble about on here. The only way to find out is by coming along for the ride. Since I don't have pegs on my bike, you'll have to ride on the handlebars.
As Ray Arnold once said, "Hold onto your butts."
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