TERRIFIC TEAM-UP IMAGE: GODZILLA VS GORGO

 

SO LONG, SID KROFFT

You and your brother, Marty, gave the world a smorgasbord of imaginative morsels.

And each of your creations remains special in its own tasty way: The Banana Splits, H.R. Pufnstuf, Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, The Bugaloos, Land of the Lost, The Lost Saucer, Far Out Space Nuts, Lidsville, Dr. Shrinker, Electra Woman and Dyna Girl, Bigfoot and Wildboy, D.C. Follies, The Brady Bunch Variety Hour, Donny & Marie, Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters, Pink Lady and Jeff, Pryor's Place, Magic Mongo, Mutt & Stuff, Toby Terrier and His Video Pals, The Paul Lynde Halloween Special, The Patty LaBelle Show, Really, Raquel (Welch), Bobby Vinton's Rock 'n' Rollers, Rock 'n' Wrestling Saturday Spectacular, The Bay City Rollers Show, Fol-de-Rol and The World of Sid & Marty Krofft at the Hollywood Bowl.   

Your productions have endured and always will, as they promote no agenda other than to uplift spirits and to show that, even during arduous times, hard work and good cheer pay off. 

May your joyful light continue to shine in Heaven as on Earth. God bless you, Sid. God bless, Marty, too. 💖

TERRIFIC TEAM-UP IMAGE: CLASH OF THE SURROGATES

 

I SAW THRASH

Thrash is Netflix/Sony's hybrid offering: a disaster film with bull sharks, thus combining two of the most popular genres of the 1970s, though with a modern, Sharknado-meets-Crawl angle. 

Written and directed by Tommy (Dead Snow I & II) Wirkola, Thrash depicts a hurricane that strikes a fictional, South Carolina town called Annieville. After the storm quells and amid the town's flooded structures, the sharks thrash their way in, as those left out in the open become their prey, ala the sailors of the U.S.S. Indianapolis. (Indeed, Jaws' Quint would have much to reflect upon regarding this scenario.)  

The setup covers several characters and how they're impacted by the monstrous circumstances. We have Phoebe Dynevor's Lisa, a pregnant woman trapped in her car; Djimon (Aquaman/Shazam!) Hounsou's Dr. Dale Evans, a marine specialist expected to dissect the calamity's aftereffects; Whitney Peak's Dakota, Evans' agoraphobic niece; Matt Nable's Billy Olsen and Amy Matthews' Rachel, foster parents of Alyla Browne's Dee, Stacy Coulson's Ron and Dante Ubaldi's Will. 

Each draws consideration and concern, with none ever being so obnoxious that viewers will cheer their demise. (Okay, maybe there are a couple, but their rough behavior is somewhat understandable, if not forgiven, considering what befalls them.) On the other hand, since these folks are designed to be identifiable, the danger they face can't help but turn nail-biting. (For the record, the shark attacks are fast and furious, executed with immense drive and frenetic vim. Viewers with delicate nerves may find the carnage superfluous, but then are those types inclined to watch Thrash? I think not.) 

I can't stress enough that Thrash's effects are outstanding. They'd look magnificent on a big, cinema screen, but even if beamed from a small one, every ounce of the production's footage spews of gruesome awe and succinct tremulation, made all the better by Wirkola's slick, kinetic direction. 

To its disadvantage, the premise kicks off with a climate-change insert, which (at least for me) subtracted more from the concept's credibility than adding to it. Things would have been just fine without the lead-in, simply based on Wirkola's strong, character development. Besides, who among us hasn't weathered some sort of storm? There's enough relatable peril in the tale's foundation to make it believable.

Despite this one measly foible, Thrash is a fast-paced, short-and-sweet success, ideal for passing one's time if one enjoys gory, survivalist adventures. As long as one has Netflix (and again, holds a taste for this sort of grim thing), it would be foolish not to check it out. 

WISE WORDS:

 

WHEN A DRUNK RUNS AMOK

Due to Easter's projected, messy conditions in my area, which wasn't anywhere NEAR as severe as the weather folks projected, a holiday gathering was postponed until the following, Saturday afternoon. The event was to be short and sweet but effective for the warmth it would generate. Unfortunately, a drunken bastard ruined it. 

This creep has pulled such stunts in the past, proclaiming that he needs--no, deserves--his "blowouts." He says that his intoxication should be acceptable on that basis alone, and if it's not, those who object are nothing but intolerant boobs. 

As it turned out, the goof was one of the first to show and with lightning speed got plastered (bringing his own booze to ensure his overabundant buzz), frightening children, wrecking furniture and in the dumb-ass end, tripping and whacking his head on a patio table. He was thereafter ushered to a guest room to sleep it off. 

Listen, if one craves a bender, why not induce it behind closed doors, away from the prim-and-proper teetotalers? Hell, Lon Chaney Jr. and Broderick Crawford indulged in big-time, inebriated bouts, but at least had the sense to conduct their raucous behavior beyond view. 

There's no excuse for this type of conspicuous crap, and I do hope our generous hosts don't invite this clod to any more events. (BTW: The asshole insists that I was the one who tripped him before helping to scoot him into the bedroom. Well, if the blubbery bum believes that, he's more than welcome to sue me; otherwise, if we ever do cross paths, I suggest he think twice before making an accusation.😠)

PINUP TIME: JENNIFER BEALS IS ALEX (FLASHDANCE)