Marmot’s Brother Makes Black List 2008

My brother Kevin’s film script “The Phantom Limb” made Universal film executive Franklin Leonard’s “Black List 2008,” compiled from the suggestions of over 250 film executives.

The Black List also made New York Magazine:

THE PHANTOM LIMB by Kevin Koehler
“A troubled private detective uncovers a blackmail scam involving a gangster who runs a brothel that caters to amputee fetishes (and other taboo sexual interests) and the doctor who performs the body modifications.”

Congrats, Kevin.

Pretentious Musings on Cloverfield

My brother reviews “Cloverfield.” I think he was a bit disappointed:

A good idea is at the heart of this film, that idea being to make a vérité creature feature: Blair Witch meets Godzilla, in Hollywood pitch meeting parlance. Document the peaceful denizens of a city as they come under attack by a monster of indeterminate origin. Conceptually, this is an intriguing start. With some irony, the actual start of the film – its opening moments – exemplifies everything that’s wrong with the picture: that the filmmakers decided to eschew their Good, Intriguing Idea in favor of the same tiresome shit.

Read the rest on your own.

So, am I to understand you didn’t like Napoleon Dynamite?

It seems like my brother had issues with “Napoleon Dynamite”:

During the 19th century, Bethlem Psychiatric Hospital became a popular London attraction, particularly on the first Tuesday of every month when admission was free. All other days, visitors paid a penny to look into the cells of the insane and watch them fight and fornicate. Some tourists brought long rods to antagonize the patients and precipitate an entertaining response.

Today, we no longer poke lunatics with sticks. Don’t have to, as there are films like Napoleon Dynamite that do the poking for us and then record it for posterity. All we have to do is look, point, and laugh.
What is there to identify with in Napoleon Dynamite? Every time he is beaten, headlocked, or thrown into a locker, we chuckle: there is something about him that not only deserves to be humiliated buts wants to be. Napoleon Dynamite makes us the bully, not the bullied, a bizarre piece of masochism from Hess whose faux-redeeming ending can’t undo eighty minutes of figurative wedgie and latent racism – note how the film’s only latinos and blacks are incorporated into Napoleon’s coterie of half-wits. This is empowering for whom, exactly? Not the lunatics, but perhaps people with sticks.

Read the rest on your own.