"Culture" I consumed this weekend, and last

Last night, I was a complete vegetable, having that day dragged my hung-over ass home from Toronto (without a singular drop of coffee) then to Niagara-on-the-Lake to see Alisa Palmer's take on Clare Boothe Luce's The Women, then back to some friends' place for too much good food.

So what did I do when I got home?

Like a true, certifiably organic vegetable, I vegged and watched a couple rot-worthy movies.

If Sweeney Todd didn't make you sick of

1. Johnny Depp;

2. Johnny Depp's British accent;

3. Johnny Depp speaking with a British accent in Victorian London;

4. Johnny Depp in a twisted gothic take on Victorian London involving gruesome murders;

or 5. demonic occult shit in Victorian London, then maybe the 2001 film From Hell is worth checking out. In spite of the gory imagery, it's a particular pair of dilated pupils that will chill you to the bone in this film. It's based on the graphic novel by Alan Moore (who has written almost every graphic novel) and Eddie Campbell.

She's the Man is a dark, dirty, guilty pleasure for me. Okay, I know it's an absolutely terrible movie and should just accept it for what it is, but why why why is Channing Tatum's character named Duke? Who names their kid Duke? I can't get over it. Duke is a name one might more aptly give to a dog. Anyway, I really like this movie and am under no obligation to defend it using reason.

Final Destination 2. Another horrible guilty pleasure. Not only do the creators of the Final Destination films have sick senses of humour, they are obsessed with Rube-Goldberg systems. You know? Like one of these:

The crucial difference between this Rube-Goldberg and a Final Destination Rube-Goldberg lies primarily in the fact that in a Final Destination Rube-Goldberg, there is a head at the end about to get busted. Ugh. Oh, and instead of goofy scientists engineering the whole system, in this movie, it's "Death" trying to tie up his loose ends. Why does Death have to act through rickety Rube-Goldberg contraptions scene-by-scene instead of just simultaneously giving each survivor an aneurysm? Aneurysms are more suspicious, I guess. And besides, there would be four less campy horror films in the world to laugh at.

Last weekend, I subjected myself to (most of) Rob Zombie's attempts at a Halloween reboot. Both films are nasty, filthy, and generally unpleasant. Friday the 13th and Elm Street have taught me to laugh at slasher flicks and how campy they are, as have Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer, etc. Neither of Rob Zombie's films were creepy, jumpy, funny, or ridiculous. Both were purely disgusting.

I also watched the 2009 remake of Friday the 13th, which I, on the other hand, actually kind of liked. My only qualm was that it seemed to be suggesting that Gen Yers are stupid enough to be outwitted by Jason Voorhees. Please. Gen Xers might be naive enough to fall under the blade of a serial killer who walks at a pace of 0.5 metres per second, but my generation certainly isn't.