Peter Weller

There’s a fluctuant charm about certain actors that tend to play every role with the same face. Audience connection definitely allows them a bit of leeway. Robert De Niro is considered one of the greatest actors of all time but it is without any doubt that he has been phoning in the majority of his performances during the latter of his nearly four decades long career. Not everyone can be a chameleon the likes of Daniel Day Lewis, but then again it may take an insane offer for a Daniel Day Lewis to appear in a movie directed by Michael Bay and not Steven Spielberg or whichever director is primed for Oscar glory.

Instead I refer to the Christopher Walken’s of cinema. Thespians considered brilliant by their peers sometimes simply because they are very likeable people and when it comes time to chew up some scenery they deliver in top quality  fashion. These actors are often considered cult favorites.

Robocop will probably always be my favorite movie starring Peter Weller, but it’s not a Peter Weller movie. It’s a Paul Veerhoven movie with all of his trademarks deeply embedded throughout the feature – satirical commentary of the modern world and a heaping ton of gorgeous violence. However, the man is a first class director even without those things as he has proven with films such as Black Book. Yet, if it were not for Peter Weller being the man beneath the metal, or plastic and rubber coated to look like metal, the character would have had a completely different feel to it.

One of Peter Weller’s greatest strengths is the ability to lead an ensemble cast such as in Leviathan, a science fiction film that borrows from Ridley Scott’s Alien plot but instead of being in outer space with a murderous creature the crew is trapped underwater and becomes just another monster movie, but the cast with Peter Weller at the helm helps sell the movie. He walks around with the swagger of James Cagney but takes charge like John Wayne. He’s smooth and intense. This is very apparent in the movie Screamers, a movie about self-reproducing, homicidal robots that slowly start overtaking a military compound. All the lives in that compound are in his care and that’s all right because his attitude says everything is all right, but when push comes to shove he’s the first one out guns blazing.

 Carrying this aura of oddness about him, Peter Weller enjoys the unconventional roles – the conflicted personalities and tortured souls. David Cronenberg did his movie adaptation of William S. Burrough’s Naked Lunch pure justice when casting Weller as the lead. Weller made me want to be convinced that giant bugs were planning to overthrow America, and again Peter Weller took front and center amongst a well rounded cast that included Judy Davis, Ian Holm, Julian Sands, and Roy Scheider.

Peter Weller has been working steadily in movies and television for thirty-nine years. Starring in everything from crime dramas (Shoot the Moon) to blockbusters (Robocop) and will always have a cult following thanks to the underground classic The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8^th Dimension. He has one of the most recognizable voices in all of cinema, one that is layered thickly with authority and class and there will come a day when his star will shine brighter than before as he is currently appearing on the hit cable TV series Dexter and will be appearing in the upcoming J.J. Abrams Star Trek sequel. Peter Weller doesn’t need a catch phrase like “I’ll be back” because Peter Weller has never left.

Keep Smiling, Wade Phillips

Houston Texans owner Bob McNair
with defensive coordinator Wade Phillips

Being a lifelong football fan, one part of the business (and it is a business, make no mistake) that brings me down is when good coaches get fired because the players are too stubborn and lazy to perform up to par. Yet, isn’t that part of a coaches job – to motivate the players into a conquering, tail kicking mindset?

During last year’s NFL season, when the Dallas Cowboys, under Wade Phillips, were playing the game like a bunch of drunk frat boys at the beach doing a keg stand for every touchdown,  the writing was on the wall. It was clearly going to be Wade Phillips’ final year, but Jerry Jones didn’t wait that long. He fired Wade Phillips after a dismal 1-7 start for a team that was practically a consensus to reach the Superbowl, which ultimately was won by the Packers who coincidentally were the final team the Cowboys faced under Phillips’ term, losing the game 45-7.

Thank you, Jerry Jones. That was the greatest thing you could have ever done for this football fan.

I have been a Dallas Cowboys fan my entire life. I was born and bred to be one, but when it came to watching fun games my taste always ventured more towards the grittier, flashier, yet low key Texas team – The Houston Oilers. Warren Moon was my main man, Bruce Matthews was a beast, Lorenzo White was unstoppable, and all of them continued the legacy of Bum Phillips (Wade’s father).

Dallas was Hollywood while Houston was projects, the blue collar guys that busted their butts day in and day out for little to no respect, unless you lived in Houston. Sadly, the team was moved to Tennessee and began their own history as the Titans. Years topped on to years and Houston was hungry for a football team. Finally, Bob McNair made the city’s dreams come true. Unfortunately, the Oilers name had been retired by Bud Adams when he moved the original team to Tennessee after changing the name to the Titans.

Eat my ass, Bud Adams.

Bob McNair and company eventually settled on the Texans, which used to be the name of the Dallas team in the original NFL before moving to Kansas City and becoming the Chiefs. Personally, I can’t stand the name, but reading the list of the ones that were available (Bobcats, Apollos, Stallions, and Toros), I can proudly live by the Texans.

Low and behold here we are now in the present day and Wade Phillips is the Houston Texans’ defensive coordinator. They are currently the number 1 ranked defense in the NFL while the Dallas Cowboys are still underachieving just like last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that, etc., etc. Yet, Wade Phillips is nowhere to be found in the Dallas locker room. They have Jason Garrett as their head coach who was Troy Aikman’s backup during those Superbowl glory days under Jimmy Johnson, and they have a hot commodity and supposed defensive genius in Rob Ryan, both of whom have fans and analysts scratching their heads wondering, if these guys are so good, why are the Cowboys still struggling?

What’s the problem with the Cowboys? Are they not performing up to their talent? Perhaps the problem is that they really are not that talented at all.

Whatever it is, again, thank you Jerry Jones for firing Wade Phillips. He took a last place defensive unit and took them to the upper echelon of the NFL, the Houston Texans are the 2010-2011 AFC South Champions, and have clinched their first playoff appearance. Wade is back home where he belongs and at least for this year, the stars are shining brighter in Houston.

Ganja & Hess - Movie Review

After returning from studying the ancient civilization of Myrthia in Nigeria, Dr. Hess Green (Duane Jones; Night of the Living Dead) is physically assaulted by his assistant who stabs him with a germ-infested artifact and then kills himself. Soon after, Dr. Hess awakens woundless and begins experiencing unusual cravings, the kind that only human blood can satiate.

The scornful wife of Dr. Hess' assistant - Ganja (Marlene Clark) - grows weary about her missing husband and conscientiously begins a relationship with the last man to see him alive – Dr. Hess himself. Their relationship elevates into something that neither of them is prepared to handle.

If Ganja & Hess was to be mistaken for a Blacksploitation film of the 70’s such as Blacula and Shaft it would be a great misdeed for this movie. It isn’t simple to call Ganja & Hess a typical horror film either. Dr. Hess does crave human blood and his wounds do heal, but that is as far as the vampire comparisons go. He doesn’t grow fangs, there are no transformations into other animals; he is a solitary man hoping to survive with a regular life while harboring this newfound bloodlust.

The violence is minimal yet poetic and is kept in a real world tone with guns and knives, hookers and bars all the while fleshing out the transition of Dr. Hess from human to blood drinker. The audience feels the crippling psychological toll that this curse is taking on the doctor and feels his burden lifted when the cantankerous Ganja starts playing a romantic role in his life.  

The slow pace hurts the film and is a reoccurring nuisance throughout the feature but the direction of Bill Gunn (who also portrays George, Dr. Hess’ assistant and Ganja’s husband) is a worthy, beautifully shot effort with a musical score that chills to the bone and festers inside the mind. Duane Jones is the true standout actor, pouring his glazed heart and foolish pride into the role of the soul tortured doctor.  

Ganja & Hess is a psychological journey rather than a bloody park ride, but it is definitely unique – not a typical horror film, not an all out suspense-thriller – just the tragic story of a man and his thirst for blood.

My Horror Family

Being six years old, living eight miles away from the closest sack of flesh and bones I dared to call a friend, my weekends revolved around backyard excursions, learning the various cleaning methods of laundry day, using my imagination to escape the fact that my grandmother demanded her lady garments to be hand-washed with soap and water in an aluminum tub with a washboard.

My Aunt Belinda and Aunt Anna never had any younger brothers, only older ones whom they (along with their other two sisters) despise to this day, so naturally since my innocence was still pure they felt persuaded by the lords of the underworld to pummel my precious spirit every chance afforded to them. They never worked alone; no – they were a finely tuned wolf pack – one provided the distraction, the other swarmed in for the kill, and both fed off my humiliation, like jackals off a dead tigers hide. They smashed fruit pieces in my face, tickled me until I cried, sat on me until I choked; even made me use the bathroom outside in the rare cold mornings and then locked me out of the house. I was their personal chew toy, emotionally and physically. They thought they were preparing me for a childhood filled with intrepid fear and a loathsome lifestyle. Their plan backfired.

We were one of the last families to purchase a VCR as my grandparents saved every penny they ever earned for emergency situations.  It wasn’t until my aunts bought one that my love for all things film would consume a large portion of my life.

Quickly, Saturdays were movie nights and one fortuitous weekend, the two witches of South Bowie Street decided to rent horror films - The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Children of the Corn 2: The Final Sacrifice – all in hopes of watching me squirm like a conscientious bull lined up on the killing floor. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was first. I never made a sound. Halfway through Children of the Corn 2 my aunt Anna finally asked in a sarcastically dominant tone, “Are you scared?”

“This is awesome,” was my reply.

Those Saturdays went from our movie nights to their date nights and my movie nights. After gaining tiny bits of sweet revenge by playing practical jokes on their dates, usually by pretending I was the son they never mentioned before, I had the VCR and television all to myself, and soon my new family began taking shape; my new family of horror. Jason, Freddy, Michael, possessed homicidal dolls, demons, homicidal maniacs; they were all welcomed into my room, the more the merrier.

The older I got the more interested I became in the actors and creators behind the masks and makeup. Robert Englund became one of my favorite actors (he was excellent in the original V mini-series), and while Ari Lehman was the original Jason Voorhees it was Kane Hodder that defined the beastly, heavy breathed demeanor of the hockey mask killer, although the potato sack mask from part 2 was a nice touch. Then, I started thinking about the directors, the men and women that pulled these wicked and sometimes misunderstood creatures out of their imaginations and life experiences, and transformed them into what was onscreen. Suddenly I had a new family.

This is all based on personal experiences and self-studied views:

Wes Craven feels like the fatherly type. His films are the least physically grotesque but he loves to mess with your mind while he himself is a kind hearted, soft-spoken man who enjoys vintage literature and classical music. He’s not strict but is stern and cautious.

John Carpenter is the cool uncle you like to hang out with because he’s going to let you do things your dad wouldn’t let you do, and neither one of you is going to tell on the other(Halloween). He speaks his mind and doesn’t care whose listening (They Live) even though he sometimes doesn’t know when to stop (Ghosts of Mars). He’s delightfully sarcastic, slightly bitter, and demands to get paid for his work.

George Romero is the other uncle, the quirky one with the big glasses. He tells bad jokes that you can’t help but laugh at (Land of the Dead, Diary of the Dead) because you know deep down he’s good at what he does (Martin, Knightriders), and he can make something fantastic out of toilet paper, chewing gum, and a paper clip.

Dario Argento is that foreign uncle, living in the old country and doing his thing. He had flares of greatness (Suspiria, Deep Red) but time has taken its toll on his skills and he’s lost track of what made him special so long ago (The Card Player, Mother of Tears). Plus, he has that daughter that you hope isn’t your blood relation because she is beyond sexy (Asia Argento) and displays her own unique filmmaking skills in the most flamboyant fashions (Scarlet Diva, The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things).

I enjoy sports, spending time outdoors, and anything to do with the arts. Growing up inside a house dominated by women, other than my grandfather male role models were scarce, so I had to rely on what I knew and growing up I knew horror more than anything else, and seeing as how I spent the majority of my childhood alone I found myself another family to keep me occupied - my astonishing horror family.

Future Uncertain for Donovan McNabb

For the third time in two seasons, former pro-bowl quarterback Donovan McNabb finds himself unemployed with what might be the most smash mouth reality check of his turbulent career.



On December 1, Donovan McNabb requested his release from the Minnesota Vikings where yet again he found himself being replaced as the starting quarterback much like last season with the Washington Redskins and the season before with the Philadelphia Eagles. The reasons for McNabb’s benching are just as clear now as they were then. He is not the same player he once was – age has stomped on Donovan’s hero cape and dragged him down through the muddy earth. He is not in the dominant playing shape that took him to 6 Pro Bowls and with the Eagles to 4 NFC Championship games with 1 Super Bowl appearance. The majority of his passes in 2011 landed in the dirt or over people’s heads instead of his receivers’ hands, and the headache inducing escape ability his mind and legs stunted defensive players with over the years is now a rickety, sluggish mess.

Donovan still feels he has starting potential in the NFL, but after being unclaimed on waivers by the Vikings, perhaps he has received the wakeup call he didn’t want or perhaps it is the call that he needs because truthfully, barring some unfortunate injury, there is no team that will place him heads and shoulders above their currently assembled quarterback lineup. The Dallas Cowboys and the quarterback plagued Houston Texans both passed on him. So did the playoff hopeful Chicago Bears who just lost their starting quarterback Jay Cutler. It would have been interesting to see how McNabb performed in front of his hometown Windy City crowd, but even they passed on his fading skills.

McNabb was booed by Eagles fans when Philadelphia drafted him in the first round. He has been overly criticized by both sports and political analysts on his talents but never on his leadership skills, and whatever detriments the media, the fans, and even coaches have begrudgingly thrown at him, Donovan McNabb has always remained the consummate professional.

Maybe it is time to hang up the helmet and pads and join his former NFL brethren in the ESPN studios on NFL Live, or maybe Donovan McNabb has enough gas left in the aging tank for one more run to do what he has done time and time again – prove people wrong.