Argh! Pirate Stories was a pulp magazine that ran from 1934 to 1935. For a total of six episodes, this magazine shared stories of pirates, both of the past and the modern day. Life on the high seas was full of danger and adventure, as you can tell by looking at the covers. Here are the six covers of Pirate Stories.
by Sidney Riesenberg
by Sidney Riesenberg
by Joseph Szokoli
Artist Unknown
by Sidney Riesenberg
by Sidney Riesenberg
I was recently trying to remember if I had ever seen a truly great (as opposed to just good) film about a comedian. The closest I could come up with was the original Fame but, while that film does feature Barry Miller as an aspiring comedian, he’s only a part of the ensemble. He’s not the sole focus of the film and his most memorable moment is when he get taunted by Richard Belzer and then bombs on stage.
Why do movies about comedians often seem to fail? Some of that is because they star people who aren’t necessarily believable as comedians (The Comedian) and they try to cover up that fact by including way too many shots of people laughing uproariously in response (Man of the Year, the HBO television series I’m Dying Up Here). Another major problem is that comedians themselves tend to be a bit difficult to take when they’re not on stage. Having to spend 90 to 120 minutes hanging out with a group of emotionally closed-off people who won’t stop trying to be funny can be exhausting. It’s really not as surprise that many movies (Lenny, Funny People, Joker) about comedians tend to portray them as being seriously damaged people. Punchline is an interesting example of a film that managed to feature not only a miscast and not particularly funny star (Sally Field, in this case) but also a group of comedians (led by Tom Hanks) who come across as being a real chore to hang out with.
All of that brings us to 2018’s A Futile And Stupid Gesture, an exhausting biopic about National Lampoon-founder Doug Kenney. The film establishes itself from the start by featuring a gray-haired Martin Mull as who Doug Kenney would have grown up to be if he hadn’t died mysteriously at the age of 33. While Mull narrates, Will Forte (who was so brilliant in Nebraska) plays the youngish Kenney. Meanwhile, a host of 21st century comedy all-stars play the comedy all-stars of the 1970s, with only Joel McHale’s Chevy Chase and Nelson Franklin’s PJ O’Rourke making much of an impressions. Our narrator mentions that most of the actors don’t look like the characters that they’re playing because this is the type of movie where the fourth wall is repeatedly broken. A lot of people credit Adam McKay with making it trendy to break the fourth wall. In reality, it was Michael Winterbottom with 24-Hour Party People. Either way, it’s one of those things that’s been done so many times that it no longer feels the least bit subversive. A Futile and Stupid Gesture is so extremely stylized (here comes another fantasy sequence!) that it actually feels more desperate than clever.
A Futile and Stupid Gesture is a tiring film, largely because everyone in the movie is such a quip machine that you get sick of listening to them after the first few minutes. The film makes the argument that Kenney’s refusal to stop making jokes was because of the trauma of losing his brother when he was younger but that still doesn’t make the film’s version of Kenney any less exhausting as a character. To be honest, though, just about every character in the film is exhausting. So many famous lines are uttered that I was ready to throw a shoe at the television by the time Michael O’Donoghue (Thomas Lennon) said, “I don’t write for felt.” Between this film and Saturday Night, I’ll be very happy to never see another movie featuring someone playing Michael O’Donoghue.
It’s a shame it’s not a better film because one does get the feeling that the film was coming from a place of love. Director David Wain has directed some funny movies and he was one of the people behind Children’s Hospital, one of my favorite shows. I wanted to like this film and I feel a little bit guilty that I didn’t. But, in the end, it’s hard not to feel that maybe a better tribute to Doug Kenney would have been to have filmed Bored of the Rings.
Death Race (2008) is the kind of movie that feels like it was engineered in a lab specifically to test how much nonsense an audience will tolerate as long as things explode every ten minutes. Directed by Paul W.S. Anderson, a filmmaker whose entire career seems built on the philosophy of “style over literally anything else,” the film doesn’t so much tell a story as it barrels through one at full speed, flipping off logic, subtlety, and occasionally even coherence along the way. And yet—this is the annoying part—it works. Not in a “this is a good film” sense, but in that grimy, late-night cable, “I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am” way.
The premise is pure pulp: in a dystopian future where the economy has collapsed (because of course it has), prisons have turned into profit-generating entertainment hubs. The main attraction is the Death Race, a gladiatorial car battle where inmates drive weaponized vehicles and murder each other for the amusement of a bloodthirsty audience. Jason Statham plays Jensen Ames, a wrongfully convicted ex-racer forced to step into the role of a masked legend named Frankenstein. It’s as blunt and ridiculous as it sounds, and the movie never once tries to elevate it beyond that. There’s no pretense of social commentary that isn’t immediately undercut by another machine gun turret popping out of a car hood.
Anderson directs the whole thing like he’s permanently hopped up on energy drinks and early 2000s music video aesthetics. The camera is constantly moving, cutting, shaking, and occasionally losing track of what’s happening entirely. Action scenes are edited within an inch of their life, creating a sense of chaotic momentum that’s exciting in the moment but completely disposable five seconds later. It’s visual junk food—greasy, loud, and weirdly satisfying even when you know it’s terrible for you.
A huge part of why Death Race remains watchable—arguably the biggest reason—is the decision to cast Jason Statham in the lead. This is exactly the kind of role his entire screen persona was built for, and the film leans on that heavily. Statham doesn’t bring depth or complexity, but he brings something more valuable here: credibility. You believe he can survive this world. You believe he can drive, fight, and endure the endless barrage of chaos being thrown at him. In a movie this dumb, that kind of grounding goes a long way. Swap him out for a less naturally commanding actor, and the whole thing probably collapses under its own stupidity.
That’s not to say he’s delivering some kind of nuanced performance. He isn’t. He operates in that familiar Statham mode—minimal dialogue, maximum scowl, and a constant sense that he’s two seconds away from breaking someone’s arm. But that simplicity works in the film’s favor. He becomes the one stable element in an otherwise unhinged movie, a human anchor that keeps the madness from drifting into outright parody. The choice to center the film around him is one of the few decisions here that feels genuinely smart, even if everything surrounding it is chaos.
Then you’ve got Joan Allen, who plays the prison warden with a level of icy commitment that almost tricks you into thinking the movie has something deeper going on. She treats the Death Race like high art, which is both hilarious and oddly effective. There’s a strange tension between her seriousness and the film’s inherent stupidity that gives Death Race a bit more texture than it probably deserves. She’s acting in a better movie that doesn’t exist, and somehow that makes this one more watchable.
But let’s not kid ourselves—this is not a good film. The characters are paper-thin, the dialogue is aggressively functional, and the plot moves forward with the grace of a sledgehammer. Emotional beats land with a dull thud, and any attempt at stakes is drowned out by the next explosion or metal-on-metal collision. It’s the kind of movie where you can predict every major turn five minutes in advance and still not care because you’re too busy watching a car fire a missile at another car.
What makes Death Race oddly compelling, though, is how completely it commits to its own stupidity. There’s no wink to the audience, no self-aware humor trying to soften the edges. It plays everything straight, which paradoxically makes it feel more honest than a lot of “so bad it’s good” movies. It’s not trying to be clever or subversive—it just wants to show you armored cars smashing into each other while people scream and things explode. And on that level, it absolutely delivers.
There’s also something weirdly nostalgic about it. It feels like a relic of a very specific era of action filmmaking, where grit meant desaturated colors, shaky cameras, and protagonists who communicated exclusively through clenched jaws and short sentences. It’s pre-Mad Max: Fury Road, pre-the current wave of more thoughtfully constructed action cinema. Death Race exists in that awkward middle ground where filmmakers had access to bigger budgets and better effects but hadn’t quite figured out how to use them with any real finesse.
And yet, despite all its flaws—or maybe because of them—it’s entertaining. Not in a “this is a masterpiece” way, but in that guilty pleasure sense where you’re fully aware of how dumb it is and still having a good time. It’s a film that succeeds almost accidentally, powered by sheer momentum and a refusal to slow down long enough for you to think too hard about what you’re watching.
In the end, Death Race is a mess. A loud, clunky, overedited mess with delusions of intensity and a complete disregard for nuance. But it’s also a perfect example of a movie that’s entertaining despite itself. It shouldn’t work, and on paper, it really doesn’t. But between the explosions, the ridiculous premise, and—crucially—Statham’s perfectly calibrated presence, it finds a groove and sticks to it. You don’t respect it, you don’t admire it—but you kind of enjoy the hell out of it anyway.
Previous Guilty Pleasures
As some of our regular readers undoubtedly know, I am involved in a few weekly watch parties. On Twitter, I host #FridayNightFlix every Friday and I co-host #ScarySocial on Saturday. On Mastodon, I am one of the five hosts of #MondayActionMovie! Every week, we get together. We watch a movie. We tweet our way through it.
Tonight, at 10 pm et, I will be hosting #FridayNightFlix! The movie? 2011’s Super Shark!
If you want to join us this Friday, just hop onto twitter, find Super Shark on Prime, start the movie at 10 pm et, and use the #FridayNightFlix hashtag! I’ll be there happily tweeting. It’s a friendly group and welcoming of newcomers so don’t be shy.
See you there!
With today being May Day, it seems appropriate that today’s song of the day should be this blistering attack on Che Guevara, a racist and misogynistic sociopath who far too many people view as being a hero just because his face looks good on a t-shirt.
Today, the Shattered Lens wishes a happy 77th birthday to director John Woo, the man who did the most to popularize the idea of the slo mo of doom!
Today’s scene that I love comes from Woo’s 1997 film, Face/Off. In this scene, Nicolas Cage and John Travolta purse each other in speedboats. The action is wonderfully over-the-top. Throughout this film, Cage and Travolta both do what they do best in this scene and so does John Woo.
4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
Today, the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday to Texas’s own Wes Anderson! It’s time for….
4 Shots From 4 Wes Anderson Films
Bottle Rocket (1996, dir by Wes Anderson, DP: Robert Yeoman)
Rushmore (1998, dir by Wes Anderson, DP: Robert Yeoman)
Moonrise Kingdom (2012, dir by Wes Anderson, DP: Robert Yeoman)
Asteroid City (2023. dir by Wes Anderson, DP: Robert Yeoman)
The last time I wrote about my “thoughts on the culture,” I wrote about the Olympics, the senatorial primary between James Talarico and Jasmine Crockett, and the controversy over the BAFTA awards. I can remember that, shortly after I scheduled the post, the Iranian War started up and I had to quickly amend my post to mention it.
In my mind, it seems like that all happened a year ago. Imagine my surprise when I looked at the date of the post and I saw that it was published on March 2nd. A lot can happen in two months! With our current news cycle, a week can feel like a month and a month …. well, you get the idea.
It’s May Day!
It’s the first of May. For centuries, May Day was observed as a time of rebirth and a celebration of nature. It was the true Earth Day. Then the communists decided to take it over and turn into a celebration of their totalitarian ideology. International Workers Day, as it is officially known, is a day largely celebrated by people who are rich enough that they don’t have to work. Since 1992, this day has also been known as Worthy Wage Day. Again, the majority of the people celebrating have never actually lived paycheck-to-paycheck. My father, on the other hand, definitely valued each paycheck that he got and he considered unions to be a “pain in the ass.”
In the 1950s, The United States responded to the communist takeover of May Day by establishing two new holidays, Law Day and Loyalty Day. To be honest, both of those sound like communist holidays as well. It’s easy to imagine George Orwell imagining a mandatory Loyalty Day.
(Speaking of Orwell, I recently read a review of Andy Serkis’s adaptation of Animal Farm. Apparently, Serkis added a third act where a piglet named Lucky leads a revolution against the pigs. That’s the culture of 2026. It’s Animal Farm, with a happy ending and an anti-capitalist message.)
According to Checkiday, today is also Theraputic Massage Day so remember that if you’re feeling overwhelmed. You’ve earned a break.
Cole Thomas Allen Is a Dork
Last Saturday, a California teacher and avid Bluesky user named Cole Thomas Allen attempted to assassinate Donald Trump and his cabinet at the White House Correspondents Dinner. He failed, though the fact that he got near the ballroom with a gun is alarming. Also alarming is that, culturally, we’ve reached the point where this type of violence and potential violence is just shrugged off.
That said, the most memorable thing about Cole Thomas Allen is just how dorky he appears to have been. To be honest, all three of the men who attempted to assassinate Trump have come across as being incredibly dorky. I mean, Lee Harvey Oswald was definitely a nerd but even he looked like James Bond compared to Ryan Wesley Routh. As for Allen, he was apparently planning on dying in his attack and he couldn’t even pull that off. Instead, he was arrested and forcibly undressed before being sent off to jail. He left behind a manifesto that read like a Bluesky timeline and a selfie of himself wearing black pants, a black shirt, and ludicrously wide red tie, as if he wanted to make sure that the Secret Service had an easy target at which to fire.
Seriously …. loser!
Speaking Of Losers, How Is Maduro Doing?
I was recently trying to remember when Nicolas Maduro was removed from Venezuela. Again, due to our hyper news cycle, It seems like it happened a year ago. But actually, it was on January 3rd of this year. Maduro is in prison right now. Apparently, for a while, his cellmate was Tekashi 6ix9ine, the rapper who is so stupid that he failed his court-mandated GED test. I’m no fan of Maduro but that really does seem like cruel and unusual punishment.
A Trip Through Time
This week, I started reading through the Shattered Lens archive. I started with our very first post, Arleigh’s review of Avatar. I’m currently worked me way through to September of 2011. It’s been interesting to read and to see how much the culture has changed over the past 14 (going on 15) years. When we started this site, DVDs were still a big deal. My first year of reviews are filled with excited anecdotes about the movie theaters that I loved to visit. Most of those theaters are gone now.
It made me a little bit sad to see how enthusiastic I used to get about certain films. I couldn’t wait to see Black Swan and Sucker Punch. I used to eagerly look forward to the Marvel movies. The Oscars used to be the center of my life. I used to watch my favorite trailers over and over again. I still do get excited about some movies. I still look forward to any new film from Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Sofia Coppola, Andrea Arnold, Joel Coen, Richard Linklater, Joseph Kosinski, and a handful of others. But the Marvel films no longer enchant me. Every trailer has the same flat Netflix look it. Every mainstream movie seems to feature the same collection of stock characters and the same mind-numbingly banal outlook. Meanwhile, the indie films have become just as predictable, their moments of subversion carefully choreographed so to not ruin any potential streaming deal. The knowledge that every film will quickly be available for me to watch at home has taken the thrill out of planning a night with a movie.
The more time passes, the more I find myself ignoring new releases so that I can enjoy films from the pre-streaming era. I guess that’s just a part of getting older. Every generation thinks that the generation that comes after them is full of heathens who are destroying the culture.
Spencer Pratt Is Running For Mayor Of Los Angeles….
….and his first commercial was surprisingly effective. In fact, my twitter timeline is full of people who are convinced he’s going to win. Of course, my twitter timeline is also full of people who thought Gary Johnson was going to win in 2016. As for my opinion, I’m torn. On the one hand, I don’t think I would vote for Karen Bass, not after what happened during the January 2025 wildfires. David Lynch died as a result of having to leave his home due to the fires. As far as I’m concerned, that’s reason enough to vote against Bass. But Mayor Spencer Pratt sounds like it would be a better TV show than a reality. Fortunately, I don’t live in Los Angeles so I don’t have to vote for anyone running over there.
(I am looking forward to President Pratt’s 2044 inaugural ceremony.)
Things Are Going To Get Easier
I watched the 1979 classic Over the Edge this week so, of course, I’ve got this song stuck in my head.
Is that it?
I guess that’s it! Whatever you celebrate, enjoy the first of May!
by Earle Bergey
This cover is from 1935.
Today’s music video of the day is for a song that is perfect for May Day.
This video features people stealing from a grocery store in Venice, California. The barking was provided by Annie, who was Perry Farrell’s dog. The song was not originally envisioned as featuring Annie but, after Farrell brought her to studio with him, she insisted on getting involved. It’s now impossible to imagine the song without her.
Director Casey Niccoli was Farrell’s then-girlfriend and has often been described as his muse during the early days of Jane’s Addiction.
Enjoy!
Through the Shattered Lens 