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Zack and Miri Make a Porno (2008)
I'm With Stupid
WHY wasn't this movie simply called "Zack and Miri Make a Blu-Ray Movie" or "Z & M Make Porno"? I don't think I grasp the neo-syntactical dimensions of the title. Maybe it has the same "chique" as "I'm With Stupid"? Even that line has more logic to it, since it most often involves a pointing arrow, if I'm correct. This movie depicts a co-habiting, sex-free couple who drive around in their awful beat-up car until they finally fall on hard times as their junk bank of unpaid bills gets shucked off the wall into an empty barrel of oil. They decide to move into adult entertainment via a school reunion, at which it's permitted to plead sex shamelessly with just those same characters who weren't willing to provide it in the heat of '89, because they possibly knew even then they were gay. What a bellyflop. A moral hangover ensues for Zacharias and Miriam, but they hire local people who are susceptible to their rotten idea and thereafter after some difficulties come up with the great flash of genius of shooting porn in a cafeteria. (Chain cafés have lost their luster, haven't they? Hence not a service station, which used to be a hot spot for coffee and "coffee" in the past.) Ultimately the love Zack and Miri have grown to share during their prolonged flatmate-checkmate gets the better of them and... the end credits tell the rest. I can hint that they might start a certain kind of vanity production company. Which I might be interested to pay as a customer. It must be said that this is Seth Rogen's movie. His maniacal monologues as part of the dialog that he is simultaneously having with someone act as both his contributions and a narrative voice-over, not unlike Harrison Ford in the "Blade Runner" (1982). It's also his relationship with Miri (Elizabeth Banks) that the rest of the cast is kind of only supportive of. (They don't have mutual squabbles.) In a lot of ways the movie resembles "Bad Santa", in which Billy Bob T. starred. If you liked it, you'll sing in the shower to the soundtrack of this movie (including even The Pixies' "Hey"). "Bad Santa" and "Zack and Miri" share foul language, foul aims, foul derrieres, filthy lucre and a central black "fundraiser". There is also a similar gregariousness and camaraderie underneath it all, which functions as the counterpoint to the filth and fury of the young-turk storyline.
Quantum of Solace (2008)
The Same Kind of Compressed Cacophony as Music on the Radio These Days
Bond is a fragile creature. He can take an unlimited amount of battering in character but a limited quantity as a serialised story of an MI6 hero. With time, he has been fashioned to meet the "requirements" of an ever-changing audience, even though those on the cutting edge and in the vanguard probably don't watch Bond. We could stomach the shift to Pierce Brosnan, because he replaced the useless Timothy Dalton. We could bear the introduction of the female M, because we knew that Barbara Broccoli is at the producer's helm for these movies. We could grasp rather than gasp at the short-haired, homely Miss Moneypenny, because, well, the odds were that our own girlfriends sitting next to us in the cinema would look like her.
I suppose the newest modifications have come as a result of the belief in "anything goes" as long as the product has enough action and some decent girls in it. This belief extends even to the 007-song, which is much worse, if you believe, than Madonna or Chris Cornell's -- it sounds like a studio outtake and is instantly forgettable.
This time Bond is out to avenge the death of Vesper Lynd. From the earlier one, I can vaguely remember that she was an attractive young, sophisticated lady, who had gone to all the right schools, who teased Bond and who ultimately faced a horrendous death being handcuffed to an old elevator that went down into water in a tumbling house in Venice. Now, if that is the case, newcomers should at least be treated to a scene of Vesper's painting on the wall with Bond silently kneeling in front of it, or something, to remind us what really motivates Bond and a string of these brutal, fast-paced, immoral, licensed but M-disapproved killings. We're offered none of that but an endless parade of disposable villains and sidekicks, too (ref. Mathis and Fields' deaths, the latter executed in such a glib way evoking "Goldfinger"). It's telling that in this newest one, we won't see even a glimpse of Q, who designs the weaponry and cars. The closest tech thing to Bond is his mobile phone.
Namely, male audiences of the Bond franchise respect the action, but they also want a bit of nostalgia, humour, logic, dining, tech, music and depth. Logic and depth here are sorely M.I.A. The sequences have been edited into such fast-paced runs that it's not at all clear whether what Bond just did would have destroyed his enemies or backfired on himself. If he farts, it does not automatically mean that the villain be decapitated. The old Bonds were beautifully constructed, using period pace as the bricks and contemporary logic as the mortar. Those of today seem to be a bit too much to bear.
I would endorse Bond even if he read poetry to his now-or-then-squeeze or played Spanish guitar or went to the Sex Fair with Miss Moneypenny. Instead, Bond has returned as something of a modern, dysfunctional, ADHD-crippled, emotionless, humourless, tradition-amnesiac "scaffolder" (he fights more these days on scaffolds than in submarines.) His evening dress seems to be dirty more as a rule than an exception. The old Bond wore a nice tuxedo each time. He's scarred and he can't even order a Martini anymore but drinks anything with enough vodka in it. Have they blended "Auf Wiedersehen, Pet" into Bonds? What an unlikely shandy.
The marriage is ugly. Daniel Craig should be divorced. Bond actors seem to come in two categories. The prime threesome is Connery, Moore, Brosnan. They lasted, the last of them until 2004. The inferior cast consists of Lazenby, Dalton, Craig. They were fired or should have been after one or two movies. Lest we forget, a lot of the 001-006s have gone M.I.A., K.I.A. or D.O.A., and this applies to the actors as well. This leaves room still for another Bond, the seventh one. If he were any good, he'd truly earn the 007 digit.
Death Race (2008)
XBox Is the Real Evil in the Residence
Meet Ms. Hennessey. She's the executive of a maximum security prison called Terminal Island. She's part Head Nurse in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and part Cruella de Vil of "101 Dalmatians". However, as the organizer and instigator and perpetrator of a confined Mad-Max-style racing contest called Death Race, during which she won't pull her punches when it comes to dirty tricks, she will get that righteous revenge on herself toward the end of the film, as the protagonists break free from their dystopian gamers' island. Considering the director has directed "Resident Evil" films, this movie is a step in a more authentic and less horrific direction, since every now and then a character in the film appears to be "real" and say also something "real". In places only the scoreboard reminds one of the film's computer-game basis. This film is no "Deer Hunter" (1978), "Mad Max II" (1981), "Oz" (TV series) or "After the Sunset" (2004) but it has incorporated a bit of each one into itself. However, please don't make a sequel to this one. There was enough GORE but one needs MORE.
A Complete History of My Sexual Failures (2008)
Waitt for Your Appearance on Candid Camera!
Meet Chris Waitt. He's a thirty-something auteur and amateur, who embarks on a project to catalog his past girlfriends following in the footsteps of Jim Jarmusch and "Broken Flowers" featuring the middle-aged Bill Murray. The end result is funnier and different in other aspects, too. Waitt comes off as a Kurt Cobain lookalike, whose toilet floor is carpeted in pubic hair w/ used toilet paper rolls in the corner unlike a furniture catalog by IKEA. He walks around carrying his furry microphone and baggy-saggy pants like a leftover grunge-wars survivor. His "Swedish" face is, however, only the surface, because things are boiling beneath it. As the events that unfold testify, he's got enough balls to visit a dominatrix, test his street-credibility vs. women, serenade a psychotherapist citing "crack-whores" and "religious virgins" and trip on Viagra like we've never seen it happen. The movie suggests that in the lives of most/many GenXers, there are four recurring factors apart from differences in personal hygiene and CV: a) A lost loved one is a mental skeleton in the closet b) (S)he is targeted at least once for reclamation c) Inevitable failure on this front may lead to creation of wicked senses of humor (as a defense mechanism) and d) other people and one's own projects claim the (wo)man in the end. Lived life and history can not be changed. If our relationships are like bridges, we almost always burn them after saying cogently goodbye. Because of these strengths, I was mildly indignant that the audience seemed to revel only in Waitt's failures and shortcomings on the sexual front. I could think of many girls who wouldn't be his match or worthy of him as a date. I rate this film relatively high since it was part of the LOVE & ANARCHY film festival and fulfilled the criteria of providing both aspects of love and anarchy quite satisfactorily. The movie was a bit like Borat for the thinking woman's circle of friends. Hand-held cameras and weird scenes ruled, you know. Out of that L&A context, I can understand if other people find this movie overdone, childish, annoying or crude.
Redacted (2007)
How Faces Get Scarred
What unites Jarvis Cocker and Brian de Palma? They're both acute observers of society. What's the difference between Jarvis Cocker and Brian de Palma? Mr. Cocker could say of the latter's recent film: "This is hard-core". Which is exactly true. De Palma tackles the subject of the war in Iraq with the vim and rage of a director half his age. The upside of his age is expertise, which means that camera-work in this film is superb throughout. When I first read about "Redacted", being told that 'it is the worst film ever made' (by a GOP mp), I expected granular video image and an artistic, illogical dream-sequence storyline. In truth, the film and footage is artistic, contemporary and steady, throwing in screens of all kind that we know from our postmodern environment. Another plus is the authentic depiction of the characters, whose small number makes this one almost like a chamber piece. Cramped location, some action, few protagonists. The raped girl, is, I believe factually shown at the end of the film unless it's just anti-American propaganda. She is, more or less, a statue of liberty shoved onto a dirty floor. She is key: had she been introduced properly to us, eg. as a future Iraqi Emily Dickinson, a beauty-loving poetess, this stuff would be very near Oscars and ten stars on the scale of IMDb. Because we knew the guys so well (the bad twosome do it without missing a beat) but not her, we were not possibly that shocked in the end, although there was shell shock in my eyes, none the less. Please make love, but not in a war.
Meet the Spartans (2008)
Nothing Went Wrong, the Cineplex Had Its Birthday
This is a spoof film. It means 'a film that parodies other films instead of having an art value of its own' in terms of characters, story line and the like, such as a happy ending. Why is it then that when I read reviews on this film, these reviews also seemed to spoof the very first review that commented on this film? Lemmings go over the edge into the Pit of Death, anyone?. The film was accused of recycling its material ad nauseam, yet those reviews recycled ad nauseam as well for instance the names of "good" spoof movies, such as Top Secret (Val Kilmer, you might remember). Oh, give me a break. Give me a royal Spring Break '08.
There is no such thing as a good spoof movie. The whole of this genre is designed to be disposable: it uses other people's leftovers and warms up once again thereof a passable meal, feeding the endless gluttony of moviegoers the world over. Therefore, it's pointless to flog makers of this fare, a bit like puritan Christians going after the makers of horror films. Even if the film was gross, it has managed to gross more than its budget back even now.
Sean Maguire was a convincing berserk of the Spartan kind. MadTV actress Nicole Parker did a few great impersonations. Xerxes was so fat and disgusting that he was almost hilarious. Carmen Electra brought some feminine relief to this otherwise masculine navel-gazing while the slice of salami pizza over her v***na was in particular seductive. The end song, "I will survive" tied up the loose ends and was the happy ending we wanted. Stop complaining. Don't watch movies of this sort with an empty stomach, on medication or whatever else was your problem (damp film student's socks?).
Eastern Promises (2007)
Canada and Russia: on the Same Latitudes
When this Caligula of a película started, delightfully with no trailers for other films, I remarked casually to the punter in the next seat that the premise of the film reminded me of "Dirty Pretty Things" by Stephen Frears. Murmuring back, the pretty poor thing had probably not even heard of it. I was right, none the less, since these two films share the scriptwriter. Also, the milieux are overlapping in the same city. The questions the film raises are these: what atrocities take place in London while Gordon Brown, the Tories, Labour MPs, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Kensington and Marble Arch look the other way into their sedentary lives?
The film is a tour de force for Steve Knight who wrote the script rather than David Cronenberg. His probably was 11 years ago when "Crash" was released. At that time he got hold of probably the best script he has laid his hands on in his prime, that book by J.G. Ballard.
By putting Russians, this time, into this quintessentially Sicilian role, Cronenberg has created a kind of cartoon. In broodiness it's not much different than an average episode of the Sopranos. Once an actor starts speaking broken English with a Russian accent, he can get away with such things as downing vodka before dinner, hitting people with a bottle on the head, being overly chauvinistic, making fun of ordinary cops and murdering people. These are all markedly manly things to do, and this film is a fiesta for Viggo Mortensen and Vincent Cassel. It's always easier to speak English with an accent if one's native language is Germanic, Middle Eastern or Romance. This favors almost everyone else but Naomi Watts, who seems as lost in this multicultural mess as her crisp Australian-English delivery is anguished. This movie is definitely a men's movie. But no porn, even though there is a bit of K9 style on one occasion. But the sex is mechanic, not repeated, and the violence is... erm... rubber-necky. I never realized before that the human throat is so alike what drips down the gumtree.
Mortensen has been praised for his contribution as a man who sails the sea between good and evil, but after his stint in the Peter Jackson saga "Lord of the Rings", what with its majestic views, grim reapers, Nordic beauties and "80-year-old heroin addicts", does this skill come as a surprise? He looks like he's trying to do a satisfactory Vladimir Putin impersonation in his Danish way and learning how to act again in "normal" movies rather than mediaeval fantasy. Indeed, when he hits the floor of realism on all four in the spa, everything about him that was so Aragorn seems to have faded away. Mortensen's job suggests that in this netherworld of brandy bottles, barber murderers and basement bonding the battle of moral and evil becomes the battle of strong vs. weak. In this fight, being strong does not exclude one from being kind in return or saving little girls from the Thames.
A lot of actresses could have done a decent job of Anna's role as the nursing, meddling midwife, not by far merely Naomi Watts. The thug roles would have been harder to re-cast. What links Watts to Mortensen is the very fact that both have acted in Jackson's movies; Watts in "King Kong", in which her role was somehow similar, a screaming woman in the grip of something terrible and definitely stronger than herself.
I saw this movie for a fiver, because it was a discount day at the cineplex, so I remarked to another person after the screening that this was just the kind of movie I wanted to see for 5 bucks: not too good but not bad in value either. The time-honored way.
Halloween (2007)
Freud Is His Middle Name, Isn't It?
Carpenter's original, made or rather released in 1978, has had an incredibly long shelf-life in video rentals. It spent the whole 80s there, whether the question was of self-respecting or -loathing outlets, uptown or downtown. We don't know whether Mr. Carpenter meant his work to be a classic that shouldn't be dusted down. He was part of the posse of Romero, Craven & Hooper, whose mission was first and foremost to scare the **** out of people across America, reflecting the despair at the time; oil crises, urban decay, stagnant technology. Those young men were "punks" beyond the world of pop music and their ethos was very much the same; "Anarchy in America". Because he has not portrayed himself as a latter-day, say, Hitchcock, an arbiter of Horror and Good taste, could it be that Mr. Carpenter has given Mr. Zombie his blessing for making this movie and is indulging in the end result? After all, Mr. Zombie has had a lot of modern advantages at his disposal that weren't around in 1978.
What I want to credit the man for is dusting the dusty VCR version down and making it fit for a DVD release. I believe that the loved the original so much that he wanted to create a version of his own at the expense of his reputation. I see that in the end result where others may only see failure and disrespect. Accordingly, Mr. Zombie's enduring quality might be his tendency to make fright explicit when others make it implicit. There can be three causes for this: A) He is insensitive B) He fears failure unless he raises the stakes Or C) Mr. Zombie just befriended too many back-slapping Bam-Margera types in his social life during this project that a more subtle movie would simply not have been enough.
The movie is cut neatly in two parts/hours, as if with a cleaver. The first part is a prequel to all Halloweens, old and new, Halloween 0 so to speak, which details the downward spiral of young Mike Myers. Being part of the white underclass, Michael learns to resort to violence as a first resort. He starts by tormenting and slaying guinea pigs and other hapless critters. It is suggested that he becomes HIM due to his upbringing in hopeless circumstances, for he's not inherently evil. However, there are tons and tons of poor f-word-users who grit their teeth and survive to the next day without murder. And reversely, the middle and upper classes have produced a handful of psychopaths (most famously, "American Psycho") with no evident socio-economical-verbal provocation. Home can be Hell, but it doesn't transform its rejected residents into the Devil. The devil is out there, not in here, so the pornographic demographic explanation must go down the drainpipe. As far as I'm concerned, universal reasons for evil are psycho-, not socio-. Logical.
After Halloween 0 comes Halloween I, i.e. a remake of the old one. A lone babysitter is the "love interest" of the slasher, for reasons revealed in the beginning and the end. This time the babysitter is a loquacious Lindsay-Lohan type unlike original Jamie Lee Curtis, whose job was a more tense and brooding girl. Namely, it is more scary when vile things happen to THOUGHTFUL girls rather than BRAINLESS chicks. It's that Jodie-Foster factor. The brainless somehow deserve **** to happen, since they already are, in a sense, good for nothing in particular other than entertainment.
The original Myers family tragedy was set in 1963 and the 11/31 in 1978. The update, rather nicely, sets the former's events as the starting point - judging from the KISS t-shirt on young Mike - so the 11/31 of the update must be taking place sometime in 1993 (a grunge year). This calculation is based on Myers's 15-year incarceration. That could explain the snooty girls, their walk and their talk. At the time of the events Myers would be around 26 years old. What is good and palpable about him is his stature. He is 2.2m tall and greasy hair covers his face from prying eyes. He is a perfect killer, unsympathetic but efficient. He harvests like a machine. Prisons really should not have gear for weightlifting, for how otherwise could Myers have obtained this brawn? It's all the more unlikely that the only one who could kill him is a feckless teenage girl. But it's always like that. Check out "King Kong." "Halloween 0+1" is actually a variant on the old Beauty & the Beast story. A B-movie, in other words (pun intended).
Hannibal Rising (2007)
Lovable Maneater
In the continuing saga of the world's most cuisine-conscious serial killer, I saw now the 4th installment. As before, the ending is open, so there is room for a sequel or more prequels. If this one was From Minor to Major, will we see the same kind of succession as with the Adrian Mole books: The Wilderness Years, the Gillette Years, the Butcher's Apprentice Years? This movie recreates 1950s France as its setting quite stylishly, and it leads you into a Jean Genet world which is filled with twisted individuals, sophistication and raw perversion. As recycled items, one can espy masks, blades, operation tables, swords, boars, handcuffs and other trademarks that the makers have picked up from the previous installments.
Seriously speaking, in this one Hannibal "bares" his heart, which beats to the memory of his dead sister, Mischa Lecter (not Barton). I am sure that I won't spoil the fun for many a moviegoer by saying that our man will avenge for her in a dozen ways. Killing all the killers should be enough for any Democrat-minded average jilted citizen, but Mr Lecter is of a different tribe. He is the most vindictive right-winger that you can find, and such he remains after his formative years.
Young Lecter and Lady Murasaki steal the show frame after frame. Even though he looks quite adolescent, he has spent time learning well enough the manners of Anthony Hopkins' Lecter: wagging the finger in mock reproach, moving slowly, putting on the devilish "You're gone" smile and using song and dance as entertainment during acts of homicide. She is dignified and something Hannibal can look up to as a sparring partner and calm conniver. A French-Japanese late upbringing under the aegis of the Hiroshima-orphaned aunt Lady Murasaki sends envy down my spine. What a great first girlfriend would that woman have been! Hannibal's unrequited monstrosity is of course another matter, as Murasaki says: "What is there left in you to love?" A French lieutenant says that there is no other word to describe the young Lecter than "monster", but I disagree. Even then people probably knew the monikers "sociopath" and "psychopath". Hannibal is both of them, since he both taunts his victims before he kills them (sociopathy) and then kills them (psychopathy). Because Hannibal often leaves the intestines and other stuff intact and focuses on the soft outer tissues such as cheeks in the bad guys, there might be room for an eating disorder in him, too. Maybe he's afraid of some small bug in the flesh, which causes brain damage? And the cure? 300 years of listening to "Intensive Care" at the Robbie Williams Memorial Hospital for psychoes.
Hannibal is an anti-hero and gorefiesta for the highbrow set. If you count yourself among them, you will get your fill, but inside of you there may be a small voice which says that Hannibal is one-dimensional. Enjoy the ham. Have cognac afterward to smooth over the bloody aftertaste.
Tyttö sinä olet tähti (2005)
Lousy work
The film depicts music industry as seen from the rap/r&b side through the co-operation of a "reluctant" bad-boy rapper and an "ambitious" uptown girl. Its clear precursor has been "8 Mile" by Curtis Hanson, but whereas that film had craziness, love, lust, violence etc., this one has maybe only weariness on the platter, judging from the views of Helsinki's East End railway backyards that we see.
The acting is juvenile. Since the main couple (very unlike Murphy/Eminem) are frozen in their roles, sidekicks who "assist" the main rapper score the few laughs and points for male bonding. They represent the kind of chauvinism that the protagonist should represent to be taken seriously as a rapper. He is no Flavor Flav, not even a chav. Since the Finnish way of life is the real backdrop, this love story could have been set to any other genre of pop; 80s synth, Eurodisco, heavy metal or folk, or in the public library, for that matter.
Some Finnish cultural personalities such as Anna-Leena Härkönen (author/actress/columnist) throw unimpressive minor side roles to the main story, but their impact could have been much bigger (sexy seduction etc.), unless they were in it just for the money.
The title of the film ('Girl, You're a *Star') comes from the eponymous 1997 recording by Finnish rock's former infant terrible, Kauko Röyhkä, which was a minor hit on the radio at the time.
V for Vendetta (2005)
Y for Yawn-inspiring
This movie is postmodern. There are many kinds of postmodern, Nirvana's Nevermind being one example of that. But this is closer to the original, confusing concept. Namely, the movie throws in a torrent of ideas, visuals, themes and music that borrow so freely from the past, present and the forecast future as to be eventually boring and implausible.
First of all, the main evil is a man called Sutler. The original Sutler so traumatized the postwar generations that he is popping up in this manner (very unimaginatively - Sutler has a scraggy beard, Hitler had a trim moustache). However, the film is flirting with wartime German history, trying to imagine what life would be like in a totalitarian UK with its own resistant underground forces. The film suggests that Guy Fawkes would be all right in today's world if he were fighting against a totally corrupt regime such as Sutler's. In that case he would have the People's support. The British have had their own Thatcher (1979-90) and she is the closer equivalent of Sutler and the closest we can get to the film's premise in recent memory. Consequently, the film does not bring Fawkes back to modern life.
And therein lies the problem. The film is rooted neither in the past, present or the sci-fi future it tries to capture. Instead, it feeds the audience with visions of a 17th century Guy Fawkes, the BBC, Dell computers, torture, the "V" alien invasion series, biological warfare, riots and revamped swastikas. Do these images connect? No. The central protagonists seem like far too ordinary cops in a precinct trying to nail "V". The general impression is that the film is an overlong episode of a British police series with surreal and grandiose twists such as the blowing up of the Old Bailey.
V speaks a kind of elevated English that we like in historical depictions & Ivory-Merchant stuff but here in this film there are too many people who speak like that. They are like transplants of a bygone era that have been planted on purpose in a modern soil, but it sounds faked or phoney. Changing the register to 'elevated' usually does not elevate any cultural product, if the bottom line has fallen off. In this film it has. The redeeming qualities it has are the close-ups of certain central characters (Evie), the Benny-Hillian bogus episode on TV involving Sutler and the grand detonation of the Parliament House toward the end.
Basic Instinct 2 (2006)
Sexy Beast
Hey, Basic Instinct 2 feels like a Agatha Christie novel written for a sexy protagonist and a modern setting. But there is no Miss Marple involved, for she is at the same time the woman who gets away, the author and the "gärningskvinna" or perpetrator. The word in quotes is Swedish, not German, though it looks like "Götterdammerung".
Everybody and his cousin has chided Sharon Stone for being such a wooden actress cast in this role for the second time, but put your hand on your heart: Could someone else have pulled off the part (which is provocative and implausible from the beginning) any better? Would Keira Knightley, Gwyneth Paltrow or Lena Olin have portrayed a better Catherine Tramell? My verdict is no, therefore, she gets a vindication of sorts. You see, this role doesn't require a perfect body but rather someone who almost has it with brains, conceit and assuredness on top of that. Also, this sequel is good in the sense that it has made me want to see the first part which I missed to see at the time.
Spun (2002)
Naturalist with a Vengeance
Spun is not a merry movie. It describes people who have fallen through the nets of normal society into worthless, anguished existence fuelling their estrangement with drugs of the synthetic sort. Just as "Dawn of the Dead" can be regarded as a satire of consumer culture, this movie can be as well. If it leaves you with a putrid aftertaste and loathing of Western values, the makers have achieved one of their goals. Characters and the plot are immaterial; by and large the motion picture gives one the idea that Southern California is a self-cleaning oven for some of its inhabitants.
It is shown how the drug-crazed people e.g. lose their concept of time and leave other people to suffer on their own devices without realizing that something is amiss. In other words, they take up the kind of behaviour which led to the famous death of the newborn in Trainspotting (1995).
Mickey Rourke throws a mentionably substantial role as a violent, cocksure older man dealing/making/using drugs, which anticipates how he was cast later on in the 2nd episode of Sin City as Marv(in). It goes without saying that his lab explodes at one point or another.
Even though this movie may spoil your life, spoilers are banned here, so go and see it for yourself and then come back here to complain.