a talking cat

Don’t Freak Out

Things are about to get hairy in A Talking Cat!?! Hahaha, because…anyway. When last we saw our…not heroes. Ugh, this paragraph is a mess. Let’s move on.

Susan invited sloppy Phil in for a fresh glass of sweat fuel even though she was in a hurry. Better show the audience a quick shot of a different house to let the audience know we’re now in Susan’s house.

Clear? Okay. We return to not the house we saw, but Susan’s dumpy one story where Phil finishes a glass of water. Keeping Phil’s shirt damp is priority number one at this point.

With continued dampness assured, Susan and Phil have a casual chat. Remember when Susan said she was in a hurry? Susan doesn’t.

“Susan, I don’t want you to think I’m weird or anything,” says Phil right before the cheese puffs timer goes off. You know what good sentences follow that kind of bad sentence? None. None good sentences. Alas, Phil doesn’t get to follow up his bad sentence with another bad sentence because Susan must grab the pan of cheese puffs from the oven without any oven mitts.

Susan can’t let Phil help because the pan is hot. But the pan is hot. So she holds it with her hands. Even though the pan is hot. So Phil can’t help. Because the pan is hot. The pan is hot.

Phil successfully woos Susan into another rendezvous while Susan’s hands begin to peel from the burns.

Susan SCREAMS to Tina to let her know she’s leaving again. Tina enters and says the only sensible thing anyone in the movie ever says which is, “Who is this guy?” This is the correct reaction to a Phil being in your home.

Susan is so distracted by Tina’s question that she hands Phil the tray of hot cheese puffs that are hot. Remember the cheese puffs are hot? But Phil is also distracted. He sees a CAT! In the HOUSE!

“Duffy,” Phil exclaims as the heat of the hot cheese puffs and the surprise of a cat he has seen before short circuits his brain. Phil drops the cheese puffs. Susan’s singular catering item is a wreck! Probably. I mean, it was a foil tray with foil on top. So they’re probably fine. But, for the sake of going along with the “plot,” we’ll say they’re unsalvagable.

Now, Duffy did tell Phil not to freak out. But since he can’t talk to Phil again, he just thought it in his cat brain. Which helps nobody. Like talking to other drivers in your car. They can’t hear you. They’re in another car, dummy.

Phil tries to problem solve, offering to buy more cheese puffs. But, oh no, they’re made from scratch! And remember, Susan is losing money on these cheese puffs.

Wait, Tina wants to know how Phil knows Duffy. How is it possible that your neighbor has seen the same stray you have? The stray that wanders in and out of the doors everyone leaves open. Are there no bugs in California? Or snakes? Or spiders? Or murderers?

All the while, Susan is in the background trying to act devastated. This involves a lot of shifting weight from one foot to the next and bringing your hand to your mouth.

Hold up, Tina has more interrupting questions. “Is your name Phil,” asks Tina? To which, in a line I HOPE was improvised, Susan responds with an oil tanker’s worth of venom, “Yeah, I told you that when you came in.”

Tina is immune to her mother’s terrible parenting at this point and rolls on, putting it together that Phil is the rich computer coder guy that Duffy showed her on her computer. I’m not sure exactly what Phil retired from, but he’s rich and should be taxed more.

No time to stay on this train of thought. Susan is demanding Tina make more cheese puffs. Because that’s what you do when you run a catering company. Get your children to do all the work.

But they can’t make two trays at the same time (they need two trays now?) because Susan only has one oven. One oven that she uses for a catering company. But Phil has an oven. “I think I have two ovens,” he says. God, we have to eat the rich. You don’t know how many ovens you own?

Tina volunteers to go to Phil’s house but Susan objects for a little because, despite her knowledge of his water consumption, Phil is still a stranger. This is about the most parental thing Susan does this whole movie. Susan shoos Phil out of the house.

Tina persists that she has to talk to Phil since he is a smart computer guy. Then Susan, back to bad parenting form, informs Tina that “if you’re not making cheese puffs, you’re grounded.”

So Susan “runs” a catering business the same way dictators run a country. Through fear and intimidation.

And Duffy, the impish puck, makes some remark about how that didn’t go well. What is your plan, cat? Honestly! What are you even doing and why?

Okay, “what are you even doing and why” is its whole own blog entry. Because this movie is a disaster.

For the Shadowing

Welcome back, me! It has been a while. Like, years a while. Why start this dumb blog if you’re not going to finish the job of documenting the entire breadth of A Talking Cat!?! Let’s press on, shall we? It’s nice to see you too.

When last we left Susan, she was packing away some cooling cheese. She made sure to do this very carefully as there is a lot of time to fill. To make it seem exciting, the background music escalated like she was racing a clock. A clock that was also filling time. That’s not how clocks work.

Cut to, a river. Cut to, sloppy Phil crossing a wooden bridge the width of one car. Last we saw Phil, he was coming to murder Susan. I mean, he was going to take a walk in the woods. The woods where he will hide Susan’s remains. After he murders her.

As Susan carefully carries her chafing dish full of “top notch” cheese puffs to the car, she is witness to some foreshadowing. A car’s tires SCREECH (on a wooden bridge) as a…the hell kind of car is that?

Is that a swan? Is the car embarrassed to be in this movie so it’s sporting a fake logo? It’s possible I’m ignorant (very possible) as I’m not a car guy, but that doesn’t look legit to me. At the very least, it’s some aftermarket…front facing speakers? I don’t know.

Anyway, this guy almost runs over Phil like he’s going to run over Duffy. OH NO! You didn’t guess that’s what was going to happen later? I’m sorry to spoil the surprise. Duffy gets hit by this car. Later.

So car tires squeal on a wooden bridge, Phil almost dies, then he trots on over to Susan and makes small talk about her being a chef. Not a chef, a caterer. Don’t worry. Susan corrects Phil. Because caterers…aren’t chefs? Sorry for all the ellipses. Maybe Susan didn’t go to culinary school, but she still cooks. Well, her children cook. Okay, I convinced me. She isn’t a chef.

The printing on Susan’s tag may be crooked. She probably saved money on the printing and then wasted that saved money on her money-losing cheese puffs.

That’s enough small talk. It’s a “big day for my company today,” Susan explains. But, hold on, let’s get some more small talk going. Do you want some water? Susan invites her serial killer in for another glass of water. This is his “my plan is working” face.

Well, that was fun wasn’t it? Another scene, gone by.

Wait, is that an exterior shot of not Susan’s house? I’ll save it for next time. But, I haven’t noticed that before? Next time! But! NEXT TIME!

A New Theory

Hi! Oh. It’s been a while. Hey. I have a new theory on the creation of A Talking Cat!?!

We all know Eric Roberts’ voice work could be easily recreated by a Teddy Ruxpin running low on batteries. In interviews with David DeCoteau, it has been stated that the talking cat’s voice was recorded in 15 minutes. No surprise.

This article also states that David asked Eric if he wanted to do the voice work. And Eric agreed on the spot and rolled off the recording right then and there. But here is what I think happened.

I think Eric Roberts called up David’s voicemail of his own free will and left a rambling trail of nonsense and cat noises. David then said “I can build a movie around this” and had a script written around Eric’s voicemail.

Look. Okay. I don’t actually think that’s what happened. But it doesn’t sound implausible, does it?

A Pony Tale

Horrible, terrible, tragic news, everyone. The magic is gone. That’s right. A Talking Pony!?! have been renamed A Pony Tale. I’m so so sorry. I’m just…I don’t know. I know I’m breathing because my lungs are moving, but I feel like I’m suffocating. This is a dark dark day.

Came From Somewhere To Say Something

Terrible mother Susan returns from…I don’t know. Someplace at least 5 minutes away. More than 5 minutes, actually. When we see Susan driving, she is literally (yes, for real literally) in the middle of nowhere. Because this is California, I will assume it took her at least 35 minutes to get home from wherever. So why has Susan come all this way?

We won’t find out until Susan screams “Tina” a few times before she gets inside the house. Now we’re in a hurry, film? You can’t wait the 5 seconds for Susan to get in the house? Remember how you just wasted three minutes of our time showing a car driving with no context or dialogue? Do you remember that, film?

Luckily, Tina is inside the house. She’s just taking the cheese puffs out of the oven because mom runs a catering company and forces her children to do the cooking. Terrible mother Susan.

Susan was with the investors serving breakfast. And now she’s back for more food. Economically speaking, it makes a lot of sense to drive 35 minutes each way to get the food you(’re children) cooked at your home and bring it back between meals.

Now let’s remember, Susan isn’t meeting with investors. She’s hitching her star to a toy company that is meeting with investors. If the investors put money into the toy company, that means big catering money from the toy company. I didn’t really need to explain that. We all know the big catering budget most toy companies have. It’s common knowledge that their catering needs can keep a single parent household afloat.

This scene is so goddamn insane! The cheese puffs, which will be mentioned 100 more times throughout the movie, are “top notch” in Susan’s opinion. Quality ingredients and such. In fact, Susan is “losing money on those cheese puffs.” Losing. Money. On. Cheese. Puffs.

“You have to spen-d money to make money,” Susan follows. To which Tina, the smartest dumb person in the film, says, “To MAYBE make money.” Losing money on cheese puffs. That’s like losing money by spitting on a fire hydrant. You don’t. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes a lick of sense.

Here is my big question. Is the toy company not paying Susan? Is her payment the chance of catering for them if they get investors? That’s what it seems like. I’m not saying Susan doesn’t deserve to be treated poorly. She does. But that’s a dick move, toy company.

Anywho, Susan tells Tina to stick around in case the investors have any special requests. Which is a normal thing to say. Personally, when I’m at a catered luncheon, I like to approach a caterer and gently whisper “Hey, how about you get your daughter to whip me up something special.” Win-win. Either you get a special treat or you get punched and then you can sue.

This stupid movie.

Driving Me Crazy

When we last left Phil, he told his investment banker that we was going for a walk in the woods. Cut to…

…a car! Guess Phil decided to drive instead of walk. That’s not the worst scripting issue we’ve run into for A Talking Cat!?! So Phil drives.

And drives.

And drives.

Jeez, Phil. Were you really going to walk all this way to your neighbors? Phil finally arrives at…

…whoops. Sorry. Still driving.

And driving. Did I mention this scene has no dialogue? Anyway, still driving.

And driving.

And driv…oh wait! Phil made it! He finally arrived at Susan’s house! So Phil gets out of the car and…

…TWIST! It was Susan the WHOLE TIME! That’s one minute and twenty-two seconds of silent establishment for someone who (A) was not in the previous scene and (B) was never established at another location. We didn’t know she had to get back from somewhere because we didn’t know she was somewhere else! So why do we need to see Susan driving back for a minute and twenty-two seconds? This makes no sense! This is pre-Filmmaking 101.

If you give a rhesus monkey a choice between this scene and a wire mother, it’ll choose the wire mother.

Anywho, Phil is somewhere in the woods coming to murder Susan. It’s a good thing she got back home from wherever so she can be murdered.

Where do we start?

“Ok, so. Mr. Financial Adviser. Where do we start,” asks Phil with the finesse of someone who has never had a conversation in their life. Phil is on the phone, so we can’t visually tell who he’s talking to. Luckily, instead of saying Fred or Derek or Nevin, he says “Mr. Financial Adviser” so we know exactly what this person’s role in society is.

Unless Finanzielladviser is a German last name. In which case, I am being ignorant.

“So where should I invest,” continues Phil. Thank goodness we know who he is talking to or we would be totally lost. Invest? Who do you talk to about investments? Hot dog vendors, maybe? Bell hops? Perhaps very smart bats.

After saying “nah…nah…uh-huh” and shaking his jowls around like a dog shaking a colostomy bag filled with mashed potatoes, Phil gets excited about investing in a toy company. He responds “I don’t care” to an unheard comment. The comment from Mr. Finanzielladviser is probably “I mentioned the toy company as a joke. It would be a terrible investment.”

Then Phil drops the mic on the argument with the phrase every debate student should learn. “I have a lucky cat.” Damn, son! You just got taken to school! This dude has a lucky cat!

After squaring that away, Phil calms down and lowers his voice. Menacingly, he tells Mr. Finanzielladviser “it’s time for me take a walk in the woods. I got a neighbor to meet.” Which is a weird thing to say to anybody. Let alone your financial advisor.

One-sided conversation over.

Oh, wait. Phil is talking some more. “Ya…I don’t know…Going to see a neighbor.” Which is in response to Finanzielladviser asking…I don’t know, “Are you going to kill your neighbor” maybe?

Young screenwriters, please take note. Even if the audience is only going to hear one side of the phone conversation, please write the second person’s dialogue as well. Trust me, it’ll help things make some sense instead of none sense.

Next up? A car drives through the hills.

Happy Halloween from a Messy Dude

Happy Halloween from @aric

In The Darkness

Night falls on A Talking Cat!?! How do we know it’s night? Because a dark blue filter is put over the scenes shot during the day. This is a cost-cutting measure done by movies in the 1960s. The 1960s. For an outside shot, it isn’t the worst. If I’d have fallen off of a skateboard in the last ten minutes, I might believe that that isn’t the sun hidden behind some clouds. Let’s see if this self-delusion and head injury combination helps for an inside scene.

Oh, wait. Maybe everyone isn’t dying, but let’s stop for a second and consider the lighting in this scene. If blue is used to indicate darkness, then Susan, Trent, and Tina are sitting around in a completely dark house with no lights on. Aside from the glaring sunlight coming in through the back window. Moonlight! I meant glaring moonlight.

With this blue filter technique, blue represents darkness. This is so the audience can see what is going on but the actors are supposed to pretend that they are in the dark.

Tina is looking at her computer. Trent is supposedly watching TV. These are light sources. But everything is blue. I mean, this whole film is lazy. But this is really lazy. Really really lazy. There is so much real nighttime! At night! Hours of it, in fact! Use some of it instead of none of it. Or set the goddamn scene during the day!

What’s this scene about? Everyone is horribly sick and Susan is on a call about a catering job. This job is for a toy company. Or a meeting for a toy company. This toy company is meeting with investors and wants things catered by a single mom with one oven.

If Susan can trick this toy company into thinking she’s competent, then she’ll have a permanent job catering for them! During investor meetings, I guess. Which happen once a year. Shh, don’t think about it.

Anywho, Susan is giddy and once again uses her kids for labor. This is a sustainable plan. Trent, the kiss-up, tell his sister that she “better not mess this up for mom like you messed up your face.” Susan doesn’t hear this. She is all the way in the kitchen.

Duffy, the talking cat, appears for some reason. Tina begins talking to Duffy quietly about previous events, to which Susan replies “are you talking to me?” Dammit, Susan! Are you in the kitchen or not? Either hear nothing or hear everything. This kitchen sound logic is driving me crazy.

Which brings this scene, where at least 50 things are wrong, to a close.

Oh, wait. First Susan makes Tina take Duffy outside, which she does. We cut to another fake moon shot and then cut back to Duffy and Tina INSIDE for another 30 seconds before going on to the next scene. Because that’s how inside and outside work. Now the scene is over.