Film

How’s the Despair?: The Year of Film in Review

“How’s the despair?” It’s a simple question asked by a village priest to Brendan Gleeson’s morose character in “Banshees of Inisherin.” Might as well be the slogan for 2022.

In the nearly three years since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, much has changed. People have cast aside life-long friends due to their opinions on cloth masks, Donald Trump, or student loan forgiveness. The Ukraine has repeatedly repelled its crazy uncle to the east at the cost of countless lives. The cost of gas, eggs, and Hot Pockets remain as volatile as…well…the insides of a Hot Pocket. And Kanye West decided that life is more interesting when you profess your love for Hitler whilst wearing a gimp mask.

Yes, it’s been a long haul these past few years. But despite all of the gloom, doom, and pure lunacy of our recent history, at least Hollywood decided it was time to start bringing life back to your friendly neighborhood theater (even if in much smaller doses than most of us film dorks would prefer). That’s right, there was a glimmer of big-screen (and small-screen) hope in 2022. Blockbusters returned, stock prices for fake butter popcorn flavoring rose, and a few brave directors even decided that the craft of filmmaking doesn’t always have to take a back seat to comic-book franchise nonsense.

Perhaps best of all, after a long hibernation, Stink Whispers has returned with our list of the best and worst films of the year, as well as the reintroduction of the awards nobody ever asked for, the Whispy Awards.

With that, I leave you with a quote from the always brilliant Taylor Swift that has nothing to do with movies: “The lesson I’ve learned the most often in life is that you’re always going to know more in the future than you know now.”

That shit is deep.

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The Life of a Rabbit: A Decade in Film

Diamonds and Turds

Ten years. One tenth of a century. The average life expectancy of a rabbit. Well, it’s all over. The decade is over. That rabbit is dead.

Yes, the 2010s are in the rear view mirror, and as such, every jackass who’s ever listened to music, watched TV, or paid way too much for movie theater popcorn must ponder one important question: Do I act like a healthy, balanced, otherwise dignified human being who spends his free time with friends and loved ones? Or do I hunker down in my house like a pit-stained hermit and create a “Best of” list that four, possibly five, people will partially read on the toilet?

Don’t answer that. It matters not. I’ve already done the work.
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Feel Good About Feeling Bad: The Year of Film in Review

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During my sophomore year of college, I attended a house party where I consumed a few too many beers and lost my senses. As a result, I ended up making out with a nice young lady whose eyes were so crossed that she could read a street sign directly behind her without the use of a mirror. What does this have to do with the past year in film you ask? Well, not much, I guess. It’s just that the image of those wonderfully crisscrossed eyes staring back at me between drunken kisses always seems to bring a smile to my face. And after another so-so year in film, maybe we all need a few more smiles in our lives.

All that to say, you can be forgiven if 2018 did little to inspire you to visit the theaters for $11 Twizzlers, seat neighbors who only shower on a monthly basis, and two hours of sub-par Hollywood self-indulgence. However, despite the downer tone here, there were some moments of note on the big screen this year. That’s where Stink Whispers comes to your rescue. We’ve got you covered with our fifth-annual list of the best and worst films of the year, as well as more of our self-critically acclaimed Whispy Awards.

And, no, folks. It’s not opinion. It’s pure, unadulterated fact.

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Nobody Puts 2017 In A Corner: The Year of Film in Review

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As a new year beckons us—like a bored toddler slapping a sleeping parent in the face at 6 a.m. to get them to rise from bed and retrieve a bag of fruit snacks—it is our duty as human beings to take a look back at the year trailing sadly behind us and ask ourselves “How did I spend the precious hours, days, weeks and months of my life this past year?”

For many, the answer to this powerful question may contain joyous moments spent with family and friends, the exploration of new cultures through travel abroad, or the advancement of a burgeoning career through hard work, innovative thinking, and achievement born from years of singular focus. For others, the answer may revolve around drug-induced memories of morally suspect sex acts performed in the back alleys with out-of-state strangers met on Craigslist. Wherever you fall in that mix, we hope you were able to find a little time to take in a movie or two, complete with popcorn and a large ICEE. Yummee!

If big screen escapism was not in the cards for you and yours in 2017, though, no need to worry. Stink Whispers has you covered with our fourth-annual list of the best and worst films of the year (and the return of the Whispy Awards).

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Stink Review: The Great Wall

See trailer

What is it with white A-listers hijacking films about revered Japanese or Chinese warriors engaged in epic battles to save their way of life?

First, Tom Cruise (playing a drunk Army Captain who ruthlessly slaughters indigenous people in his spare time) decided it was his duty to hop a charter to Japan to learn the way of the samurai in four easy lessons, then lead the very samurai who trained him to defeat ninjas and gun-toting soldiers in The Last Samurai.

Next, Keanu Reeves saddled himself with the selfless responsibility of leading 47 disgraced ronin warriors against ghosts, witches and really shitty 3-D animation in 47 Ronin.

Now, with The Great Wall, Matt Damon has thrown his hat in the ring as a lily white dude with a fake beard and destined to lead tens of thousands of Chinese warriors in a battle against giant, man-eating salamanders (called Tao Tei) at the foot of, you guessed it, the Great Wall of China.

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Gods and Turds: The Best and Worst of the Big Screen in 2016

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When the world gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When the world gives you brown bananas, you make banana bread. When the world gives you fermented lactose, you make yogurt. These are phrases you’ve most likely heard ad nauseam.

But what about when the world gives you a horrendous year of film? What then? Well, you make a list of the best and worst of them and share with a world that could care less that you even exist, let alone spend inordinate amounts of time sitting in a dark move theater like a creepy pale-skinned loser.

So, here it is. The annual Stink Whispers list of best* and worst films of the year (mixed in with the first-ever Whispy Awards).

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Top Big Screen Flicks of 2015: It’s a Fact, Jack!

2015 Flicks

The year 2015 was a mixed bag. Donald Trump was Donald Trump (ugh). The New England Patriots won another Super Bowl (yawn). Employment rates went up (yay!). Adele remained the most overrated thing since the Sleep Number bed (just stop!).

Equally mixed was the year in film. Filled with some stunning highs and some diarrhea-inducing lows, it was difficult to define it as an up or down year in the ol’ cinema.

As always, I’m tempted to dismantle the shit storm of terrible films that passed through our sacred cinemas in 2015 (“Furious 7,” “Aloha,” “Hitman: Agent 47,” “Inherent Vice,” Taken 3,” “Hot Tub Time Machine 2” and “Avengers: Age of Ultron,” for example). Alas, this is the sole exercise for which I try to look at the brighter side of what is put in front of my eyes.

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Rinse, Repeat, Rip Off…Oh, and Hooray!

There may be a spoiler or two here, folks. Read at your own risk.

Like so many, I grew up infatuated with anything and everything even remotely attached to the Star Wars universe. It’s hardly a unique badge to wear, but I wear it proudly.

The original “Star Wars” was, without a doubt, the movie that got me hooked on the movie-going experience. The opening battle on Hoth in “Empire Strikes Back” remains, to this day, one of my favorite movie sequences ever. And when “Return of the Jedi” came to the Isle Theatre in Cumberland, WI in 1983, I attended the 7 p.m. showing every evening during its two-week run, going as far as picking up yard work around town each day to earn the $1.75 ticket cost each night.

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Suede Jackets, Wine Stains And A Heart Still Broken

Merlot may have stained Cindy Mancini’s suede outfit in Can’t Buy Me Love, but it was her beauty that stained my heart.

1987. The year I began to truly understand the world and all of its wonders. The year I awoke from an adolescent slumber to understand that nothing but possibilities await the hopeful spirit. The year I discovered my heart’s expansive, never-ending capacity for love. The year I found Cindy Mancini.

To most, Cindy Mancini was simply a fictional character from the film Can’t Buy Me Love. They would be wrong. In truth, she was irrefutable proof that hopeless dorks had a chance to win the love of the head cheerleader—as long as they could afford to buy her a $1,000 suede outfit after a classmate spilled red wine on her mother’s outfit at a super lame high school party. As an awkward 135-pound eighth grader with tinted prescription glasses and a proclivity for wearing leather ties to junior high dances, even the smallest bit of hope can buoy you for years to come.

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I Saw "Furious 7" And I Hate Myself For It

For the sake of full disclosure, I’m a bit of a hypocrite on this one. Just one week ago, I promised I would never give a single cent to this film franchise again. The complete lack of worthy movie choices this weekend, however, left me with no other option but to swallow my pride, hand over a few bucks, and try my best to hold my lunch. It was either this or clean my bathroom. So, yes, I’m a bit of a fraud on that front. With that said, here we go…

Close, But No Cigar
Three years ago, I walked into a theater to see a movie I had been anticipating for months: “Red Tails.” The previews had made it look amazing, and I was a WWII history buff, so the story intrigued me. I made it 30 minutes in before walking out. I had never walked out of a movie before, and it hurt my heart to do it. If I hadn’t, though, there is a better-than-average chance that I would’ve been forced to commit ritual suicide due to absolute horseshit fest I was being exposed to. “Furious 7” is no “Red Tails,” but I still was tempted to adios it at several points. Truth is, it is what a popcorn movie is supposed to be in some ways. Plenty of action, lots of close-up shots of female asses, and even a few instances where the action intersected with close-up shots of female asses. Beyond that, though, this blockbuster (and it is raking in the dough, to be sure) is a shining example of the direction Hollywood needs to go if it wants to ruin itself. So, it’s not the worst film I’ve ever seen in a theater, but it is awful. Shitty and awful. Shitty, stupid and awful.

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