The 5 Worst Christmas Movies Ever

Take a bite out of these Christmas turkeys.

In this season of selflessness, I decided to subject myself to the horrors of some truly terrible Tinseltown tales so you don’t have to. I do this out of respect for your time, dear reader. Either that or barely repressed masochism.

A shovel to the back of the head would be a mercy after seeing this film.

5. Surviving Christmas
Ben Affleck plays a hotshot executive with a big empty life. His girlfriend dumps him for Christmas/family reasons, so he returns to his childhood home to burn a list of grievances as a form of therapy. He then hires the current occupants to be his family for Christmas. In his eagerness, Affleck appears unhinged, but at least the family is being paid to put up with him—too bad audiences weren’t. But as bad as Surviving Christmas is, it’s Oscar bait compared to the rest of the list.

Now Vince, in this scene I need you to be an annoying jackass. Oh great, you already know your part.

4. Fred Claus
Oh look, Vince Vaughn is playing Vince Vaughn again. What a stretch for this talented and versatile actor. Double-V plays Fred, the brother of Nicholas Claus. Fred, in an oh-so clever twist, is a repo dude who resents his brother. What follows is a plot, I guess, about an efficiency expert threatening to shut down Santa’s operation and move everything to the South Pole. Fred and Nick fight, Fred saves Christmas, the family reconciles and blah blah, yadda yadda. Running at 110 minutes, it’s about 109 minutes too long.

There aren’t enough movies featuring Hulk Hogan doing crane kicks.

3. Santa with Muscles
Hulk Hogan stars as a wealthy jerk who, while fleeing the cops after a little mischief, hits his head and… sigh… gets amnesia. Someone half-convinces him that he’s Santa Claus, so Hogan decides to save a struggling orphanage. But wait—an evil scientist wants to buy the land said orphanage sits on, because beneath it are rare exploding crystals. Seriously. No amount of training, prayers or vitamins will get this movie past its many, many flaws. And don’t get me started on the Brutus Beefcake cameo.

Apparently Martians have figured out interplanetary travel, but not parenting.

2. Santa Claus Conquers the Martians
This celluloid disaster was almost number one on the list. Something is wrong with the children of Mars, you see—they’ve forgotten how to be children and have fun. Since they’ve been watching Earth broadcasts about Santa Claus, the Martians decide to abduct him to build toys for their kids. The acting is one-dimensional at best, and the sets appear to be lit by a single overhead light bulb. And wait ’til you see the dude in the polar bear sui—I mean, the polar bear. Where’s Plan 9 from Outer Space when you really need it?

The only time I wished I lived on Alderaan.

1. The Star Wars Holiday Special
I’ve loved Star Wars since I was a kid, and I never thought I would see anything that would sully that trilogy any more than the prequels already have. I was wrong. This is an incomprehensible mess. We meet Chewbacca’s family—Malla, Itchy and Lumpy—who are celebrating “Life Day,” and Chewie is late coming home. The first 20 minutes mostly contain Wookiee growls, a few bad puns and then I don’t know what happens because I couldn’t bear to watch it any further. It’s not just that it’s bad—it’s ruining Star Wars. Worst. Christmas. Movie. Ever.

Not enough, you say? You want more? Well, treat yourselves to some VIDEO:

Surviving Christmas (clip)

Fred Claus (clip)

Santa with Muscles (full movie)

Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (full movie)

The Star Wars Holiday Special (full movie)

(Originally posted on mississaugalife.ca. The print version originally appeared in Spirit of the City/Mississauga Life, issue 16, 2012; the PDF of that is available here.)

Christmas Comes Early

Photography by Ulysses Pabuna

The night of December 3 was one full of surprises, the first of which was that I made it to downtown Toronto in record time: 40 minutes. That’s in rush hour, avoiding the Gardiner. Lakeshore was my friend.

The second surprise was dinner at Chipotle—that is, I’m surprised I didn’t spill more of my tacos on my sweater. They’re messy, but good.

The third and by far the biggest surprise was how much I enjoyed the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO). I walked into the ACC that night barely knowing anything about them, only that “they’re awesome,” according to my friend Tom. He’s the fan, he scored the tickets, and he promised me it would be a great time.

He was right.

Now I love me a good concert, and, if you’ve read any of my other reviews, I tend to like my music loud and boisterous, to put it euphemistically. TSO can bring the volume, but there were also many quiet, delicate moments—not that that’s a bad thing. As far as I can tell, TSO tends to tour in winter, or at least they always seem to end up in Toronto in December, so there’s a lot in the way of winter themes both visually and musically. Their albums are often concept albums or rock operas. And they really, really love Christmas. They have three albums that form their “Christmas trilogy”: Christmas Eve and Other Stories, The Christmas Attic, and The Lost Christmas Eve.

This show was, in essence, a Christmas show. In the first half of the concert, they played through The Christmas Attic—this tour represents the first time that they’ve played that album live. Its story, in a nutshell, is this: a little girl explores the attic of her home on Christmas Eve, finds an old chest full of letters including those of a long-lost couple, reads said letters and ultimately reunites said long-lost couple. Aww.

It broke down like this: a huge chest was placed in the centre of the stage, and it opened up to reveal most of the band within it. Then, one vocalist would do spoken-word pieces between the songs, talking about the letters the little girl was reading, and then the band would launch into a song that illustrated the letter in question.

Step one: place chest on stage.

Step two: slowly open chest…

…to reveal band.

Step three: add spoken word.

Step four: fire.

There’s more to the story of The Christmas Attic, and there are strong Christian overtones to it, too. If you want to read the whole thing, it’s here. To be honest, I could’ve done without the religious stuff, as I find it irksome (to put it politely), but I ignored that and enjoyed the show nonetheless.

TSO is a progressive rock band with parts of an orchestra: there are two guitarists, a bassist, a drummer, an electric violinist, two keyboardists, a string section and about 10 vocalists, either singing lead or as part of a choir. And that string section—they’re from the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. So TSO was playing with TSO. We all had a chuckle at that when they mentioned it.

As the show progressed, I noticed quite a bit of ’80s-style guitar wankery, which made me wonder what these musicians had done before TSO. Turns out some of them were in Savatage, a prog-metal/power-metal band that was prominent in the ’80s and early ’90s. I’ve heard of Savatage, but can’t say that I’ve listened to them. But, wankery aside, I do love hearing call-and-response between singer and guitarist and I love guitar harmonies, and at one point they did both simultaneously. That was pretty cool.

The second half of the show was comprised of TSO’s classics. There was still a Christmas theme happening, but it wasn’t too strong. At times, the guitarists and violinist ran out into the crowd, going up the stairs on the 100 level and interacting with fans. There were a few points during the show where they would strap themselves into some raised platforms that would go out high above the crowd and rotate.

One set of raised, rotating platforms.

Lasers!

They also did some pieces of classical music (e.g., Beethoven, Liszt; some of that took the form of a keyboardist duel) and other carols, or really, their heavier versions of carols, e.g., “Carol of the Bells”—they ended the show with that one.

The show was full of video and smoke and fire and sparkles and lights and lasers, plus they did a brief cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir,” and they topped it all off with fireworks at the end! For two and a half hours, it was pure rock-and-roll spectacle.

And now, a sample of TSO’s music. If you were on the Internet in 2005, you’ve probably seen this video. This is “Wizards in Winter”:

(Originally posted on mississaugalife.ca.)

I Can’t Believe I Ate the Whole Thing

The Spirit of the City—MississaugaLife team had a chance recently to check out the new Ontario location of west-coast chain Browns Socialhouse, and boy, did we ever. Folks, this was a marathon performance of eating and drinking, the likes of which might shame some in an aftermath of guilt. We had no such aftermath.

Let’s set the scene first: it’s a trendy looking place, upscale-ish, but comfortable. The tables are roomy enough. It’s like they’re going for the Jack Astor’s vibe, but without the noise and big flashy screens, which, while OK, can sometimes be annoying. There’s music, but it’s at a level where you can hear it if you concentrate; it’s there more to provide some white noise. The whole point of this place is, as the name implies, to be social; you can hear each other here without having to yell. That’s a good thing.

We started off with a sampling of drinks and appetizers. First, the Social Lager and Social White and Red wines. These are drinks specifically made for the restaurant; a house beer and two house wines. I’m a fan of stouts when it comes to beer, but this lager was light and crisp; it matched well with our upcoming food choices. The white wine had an odd coconut smell to it, but was nice. The red had a much drier bite than I was anticipating, but it was good too. I guess. I don’t yet know enough about wines to really tell.

After that were martinis: the Cucumber Martini (which I hated; sorry guys, it did nothing for me) and the cleverly Reservoir Dogs named “The New Mr. Pink” martini, which was much better. It was a raspberry martini, sweet and tangy. Bellinis followed, which were even sweeter, heavy on the peach. Those are all well and good, but that’s Hangover City just waiting to happen, isn’t it? I’m glad I stuck to my beer.

Then, the food. Here’s where it gets really good.

General Tao’s chicken

Chicken tacos and the dragon roll

First up, four appetizers: chicken tacos, fish tacos, a dynamite roll, and General Tao’s chicken. The dynamite roll would be much better if they used less rice, but the General Tao chicken was amazing. You know how some places make this dish with fatty bits of chicken, and some pieces are good and crispy and others make you question what you’re eating? This was nothing like that: every piece was lean chicken breast, and it was crisp with just a touch of heat, nothing crazy. I could’ve devoured that plate and a second one like it in no time, but UGH, sharing. I mean, er, go team!

But then there are the tacos. Holy crap in a hat, the tacos. Now those were fantastic. Just an explosion of flavour: chipotle chicken, pickled onions, a cilantro cabbage slaw with lime sour cream, plus a small bit of pico de gallo (which was as sweet as if they’d grown the tomatoes in their backyard; and for all I know, they did). The fish was largely the same, but replace the meat with a lime pepper grilled halibut. I would go back for those in a heartbeat.

Tahitian tuna salad

Blackened chicken kale Caesar

Roast beef French dip sandwich

Next was the second round of appetizers, which were really entrée samples that we all split (pictured above, L–R): the Tahitian tuna salad, the blackened chicken kale Caesar, and the roast beef French dip sandwich. The tuna was quite good, with its lemongrass crust—and I generally don’t like tuna. But it was the beef dip sandwich that stole the show this round. Wow. Lots of thin slices of beef, a generous portion of grilled onions, and a great thin gravy to go with it. One thing I don’t like is soggy bread, or sandwich bread that can’t stand up to the ingredients it houses. I like my bread crunchy or crusty, and this bread was nicely toasted and held its own, even when you dipped it. It was a hell of a sandwich.

Sounds like a lot so far, huh? Well, there’s more.

Steak sandwich

Chicken and shrimp pad thai

#28 Dragon Bowl

Fettucine carbonara

Hickory burger

The mains. (Pictured above, L–R): Jay got the steak sandwich, Jordan ordered the chicken and shrimp pad thai, Sarah grabbed the #28 Dragon Bowl, Alicja got the fettuccine carbonara, and I ordered the Hickory Burger. I always try a similar burger when I visit a new place, for the sake of comparison. Everyone’s dishes were great, but this is my review, so let’s get to that burger.

Chef Chris and General Manager Gary. They’re not this purple in real life.

According to Gary, the general manager (whom we met along with head chef Chris), they have very little freezer space in the restaurant, so, for example, the burger meat is always fresh-ground chuck. That’s one checkmark for me. It’s seasoned only with salt. Another checkmark (because if the beef is good, you really don’t need any other seasoning). They also griddle-smash the beef, which is huge: it sears the meat, gives it a nice char/crust, and locks the juices inside. Three for three so far. Lastly, the meat-to-bun ratio. The patty was a bit smaller than other places, but its size helped balance the flavour of the sandwich. Nothing was overpowering; it all worked together.

Next, the bun is brioche, which is good because a brioche bun can take on beef juices or other condiments (like the great BBQ relish they added to it) and it won’t fall apart; that’s a big deal for me. As much as I love places like The Stockyards (still my #1 burger in the GTA) and The Burger’s Priest and the like, they could both be better served by having stronger or denser bread. By that same token, this burger wasn’t as juicy as the other two places I just mentioned, but it was very good, tasty, and a lot cleaner, i.e., I didn’t have grease running down my elbows.

The Hickory Burger comes with cheddar, bacon and barbecue sauce, and I think there was also a house-made mayo, too. It would’ve been better with some crispy onions, but I had no complaints. In fact, I ate that burger like the appetizers didn’t even happen.

Ye Oreo jar

Oreo jar, aftermath

While the rest of my colleagues were happily complaining that they were way too full, my Italian genes kicked in and said, “Pfft, you call that eating? This is an afternoon snack! You’re all weak! BWAHAHAA!” (Don’t worry folks, I paid for my hubris the following morning.) But then came dessert and suddenly no one was full anymore. How could you be? It was an Oreo Jar, i.e., a small mason jar filled with Oreo cheesecake, whipped cream and topped with an Oreo cookie. I mean… I just… I can’t even… oh good lord. You know how in a cartoons, you might see a school of piranhas skeletonize a tasty morsel in a feeding frenzy? I want to say we weren’t that bad… but we kind of were. Maybe I’m exaggerating.

I turned into this guy for a sec.

All in all, it was a spectacular meal. Give this place a try, dear readers. We loved it, and we think you will too.

Browns Socialhouse
2525 Hampshire Gates, Unit #2B, Oakville
905-829-2727

(Originally posted on urbaneats.ca.)

3 Brewers

Five different beers, same (great?) taste.

A good friend of mine currently lives in Barrie, possibly as penance for sins in a past life, as far as he knows. He wants to come back to the GTA, but for the moment he’s in the Land of Unending Snow Squalls. When he does come down ’round these parts, it’s usually for a special occasion—his birthday, for example, which was this past weekend. So my friends and I were excited to hang out with buddy, and after some deliberation and weighing of options, we settled on 3 Brewers (Oakville).

According to their site, 3 Brewers began in France in 1986 and have since expanded to Canada. There are five locations in Southern Ontario: Ottawa, Kanata, two in downtown Toronto and the one in Oakville. Their whole thing is that they’re a microbrewery and restaurant, so they brew their beer on-site. It’s local, it’s fresh, etc., all the things you’d expect from a good microbrewery, right? So what’s a guy to do when it’s a friend’s birthday and he doesn’t have to drive for once and there are a few new beers to try? Start with a flight, of course.

I tried the “Et Cetera” (their word for a flight) with their four standard beers: white, blonde, amber, and brown. They’ve also got a neighbourhood beer which is unique to the location (theirs was a cream ale), and a beer of the month (a pumpkin ale). Here’s the part where I tell you that I was unimpressed.

Full disclosure: when it comes to beer, I prefer stouts, porters, cream ales and the like. I like my beer to be lighter, less carbonated, and with a thicker mouthfeel. And even though I don’t really like bitter flavours as a general rule, I like the strong flavours of stouts. The beers I had in front of me were nothing like that, and they were considerably hoppier than I like. But fear not, dear reader, for I soldiered on through it.

The problem wasn’t even really that they weren’t my preferred kind of beer; I’m up for trying new things. It’s that despite being different, they pretty much all had the same flavour profile—at least, I thought so. Perhaps a beer connoisseur will pick up on the more subtle variations in taste than I will. Of the four, I’d say the blonde and the brown were the better ones. The white was a little cloudy and reminded me of a wheat beer, which I’m not generally a fan of, and I have yet to find an amber that I really like. The blonde tasted like a standard beer, if a bit hoppy, and the brown came the closest to the flavours I like. That wasn’t bad.

After the flight, the food came, and it was quite good. We split a bunch of appetizers (potato skins, onion rings, garlic bread, mozzarella sticks) and while there was nothing out of the ordinary about those (except for the strangely too-firm sour cream; seriously, you could’ve mortared brick with it), there was nothing bad either. There were also fish and chips and everyone seemed to like those, too. No complaints there.

Not one to give up, I decided to go for the cream ale, but given the experience with the flight, I figured a half-pint was the prudent choice. It was. The cream ale was better than the other four beers, easily, but it still had a too-similar flavour profile when compared to the other beers.

Verdict: I wish I could’ve liked this place more. It has a good rep, the food was good, it was clean and well-decorated (just a good-looking place all around), and our server was wonderful. For me, it failed on the beer, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t go back—I just won’t have beer next time.

3 Brewers (Oakville)
2041 Winston Park Dr.
289-813-2239

(Originally posted on urbaneats.ca.)

[UPDATE: Looks like 3 Brewers is opening another location in Mississauga, in Heartland.]

Constantine

I watched the first episode of Constantine, and here’s what I’ve got to say about it.

I love comics, and one of my old favourites is Hellblazer, published by Vertigo, the mature readers’ imprint of DC Comics. Three weeks ago, DC launched a new TV show, Constantine, based on the series. You won’t find new issues of Hellblazer in your local comics shop at the moment, though; DC ended the series with #300 and re-launched it under the title Constantine, presumably to match the show title and make it easier for TV viewers to find the books, if they’re interested. For the record, Hellblazer is a way better title.

Now some of you may be thinking, “Constantine? Isn’t that that wretched film they made with Keanu Reeves nine years back?” Yes. Yes, it is. That film was something of an abomination. You are to ignore it. Instead, if you like occult horror, have a look at Constantine; it’s a far better rendition. Matt Ryan plays the titular character, John Constantine, an arrogant, chain-smoking, hard-drinking occultist/exorcist/magic-user-guy who knows how to handle a demon or two, and is tormented over the fate of the souls he couldn’t save—including his own.

People who get close to him tend to die horribly, you see.

Ryan does a good job of portraying Constantine. He’s got the right swagger, he’s British (which is important to the character—y’hear that, Keanu? (although to be fair, if you heard Reeves’ English “accent” in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, perhaps we were all done a service when they made him play Constantine as an American)); he feels right. That might be more important to Hellblazer fans than non-fans, but as long as he stays true to the spirit of the character, I’m good.

It’s at the 10:00 time slot, so the show can get away with being a little more horrific and such. Yet the chain-smoking is mysteriously absent. Apparently blood, guts and demons are OK, but a cigarette? Perish forbid! Think of the children!

A face only a grandmother could AAAAAGHHH!!

That may sound like something of a comic-fan-only rant, but Constantine’s smoking actually plays a large role in the books: if you’re damned to hell, you don’t want terminal lung cancer. I hear that you sort of see hints of it in later episodes (stubbing it out on his shoe, a cloud of smoke over him; you just don’t see him actually smoking), so maybe this isn’t that big a deal.

There are some genuine scares in the show—at least I thought so. Admittedly, I don’t do that well with horror; maybe I jumped at something that horror aficionados would sleep through, I don’t know. But it’s got some creepy moments for sure.

“Dead by dawn! Dead by d–” Oh wait, wrong story.

I’ve only watched the first episode so far, and that was last night, so it’s possible my opinion is still somewhat laced with fanboy enthusiasm—because, I have to admit, it’s pretty awesome to see John Constantine on screen—and maybe viewings of subsequent episodes will change my mind. But for now, it looks good. I’ll keep watching. I’m cautiously optimistic.

p.s. Nerd moment: they showed the Helmet of Fate!

(Originally posted on mississaugalife.ca.)

The Burger’s Priest

Photo by Shanen Lautan.

I’ve written about my fanaticism and philosophy behind my love for burgers before, so let’s skip all that and get down to business, yes?

The Burger’s Priest is one of my favourite burger joints. It started with one lone shop way over on the east end of Toronto, at Queen and Coxwell, and now it’s just opened its sixth location, right here in Port Credit. So of course, the MississaugaLife team had to pay it a visit. In the name of, um… journalism?

When I go to Priest, I typically get a double cheeseburger with bacon and caramelized onions (this is an indulgence, so I might as well go all the way). But this was a special occasion—that’s a good enough excuse, I figure—so I went for The Vatican City: a double cheeseburger that uses grilled cheese sandwiches for buns. And that’s not even close to the craziest thing they have on their menu—or their secret menu.*

The Vatican City. Don’t judge me. Photo by Shanen Lautan.

This thing arrived with cheese practically coming out of every layer, and those grilled cheese sandwich buns were really that: two pieces of bread, a slice of cheese, soaked in butter, grilled, and pressed flat. It was artery-clogging decadence, the kind that will be your final meal of the day, because you’ll either be too full or fast asleep.

Other burgers enjoyed by team members include: The Pope (a cheeseburger with “the option” (which is their veggie patty—a deep-fried Portobello mushroom cap stuffed with cheese)), consumed by Jordan; and the Holy Smokes (a double cheeseburger with panko-crusted deep-fried jalapeños), consumed by Jay. But then he went for another one, this time a simpler bacon cheeseburger. Our hearts exploded—but thankfully, only from joy.

Jay’s Holy Smokes…

…which he then chased with this. Go ahead and judge him. Both photos by Shanen Lautan.

You might be saying, “Well, so what? It’s just a burger,” and to that, all I can say is that you have to try it. I’d be willing to bet this style of burger is better than most burgers you’ve had. Its construction is really simple (ground chuck and kosher salt in the patty, and that’s it), it’s cooked on a flat-top griddle to sear the meat and lock all the juices in, and because there are no fillers, it just crumbles apart; it tastes fresh. And I’m not kidding about how juicy it is—it could be running down your elbow and you won’t care because you’re lost in a delirium of beef wonder.

If you order fries, they give you quite a lot. And the fries are good, but they’re really just an add-on; filler. The burgers take centre stage here. And just to cap off the “screw my diet” experience, I grabbed a chocolate and vanilla shake, dubbed with the fun name “Riggs and Murtaugh.”

These guys, but in milkshake form.

Next time, I think I’ll try Jarge Style (which seems to me to be their take on the Animal Style from In-and-Out, but I might be wrong on that). Or maybe The High Priest. That’s their take on the Big Mac.

Oh, Burger’s Priest—you’re the best thing to happen lately to my stomach, and the worst thing to happen to my wallet. But I love you anyway.

*

What’s that? You want video of us at The Burger’s Priest? Here you go!

*The secret menu, by the way, isn’t really a big secret. You can find it on their site, but you’ll have to answer a Bible-related skill-testing question first.

The Burger’s Priest
129 Lakeshore Rd. E.
905-990-7300

[UPDATE: I’ve now had Jarge Style: mustard-seared patties with fried onions and special sauce. Very good, but a little sloppy. Get ready for damage control when you eat this.]

(Originally posted on urbaneats.ca.)

Holy Smokez

I’ve got to write this one quick, before I fall asleep.

“But Leo,” you might ask, “it’s the middle of the day and clearly you’re at the office working for that fine publication, Spirit of the City. How can you be sleepy?”

Because, dear reader, if you’d eaten the sandwich I just had for lunch, you’d be fighting off the Sandman too.

You may have noticed that Mother Nature hates us today, with a mid-April afternoon high of 0°C and SNOW. So I needed something summery to counteract this nastiness, and I thought “barbecue.” (Eh, that rationale is as good as any, I figure.) I’d heard of Holy Smokez through other media channels that shall remain nameless, and it’s only about a 10-minute drive away from the office, so what the hell.

Holy Smokez is located on Dundas a bit east of Tomken. Owners Rick and Robin have had it for about a year and a half. Everything is slow-cooked (18 hours for the brisket) and they make their own barbecue sauce. And that’s some good sauce: sweet and smoky, but it doesn’t punch you in the gut with smoke. It’s on the sweeter and tangier side.

The place is tiny; like, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it tiny, so keep an eye out. It’s clean and well maintained, but more to the point, it’s well ventilated. I’ve been to other barbecue places and while their food was tasty, they could sometimes be a bit smoky inside. This place has none of that. The walls are adorned with awards and write-ups all praising the food; I was about to find out why.

I ordered the pork ’n’ slaw, which, if we’re being honest, is really the only way to have a pulled pork sandwich. This thing was HUGE. It was packed with meat, well sauced, and the balance of slaw to pork was good. It wasn’t a creamy slaw, either; it was tart and light, but flavourful, and most importantly, it didn’t overpower the other flavours. The star of the show was the meat and sauce, and the slaw did what it was supposed to do: complement it. The bun was big enough and strong enough that the various sauces and juices didn’t destroy it; it held fast right to the end. Most of those juices ended up on my left hand. How I suffer for my art.

On the side: corn bread. Oh boy, the corn bread. It’s fresh-baked to order, so it arrived warm and sweet and… is that… jalapeño? I wasn’t expecting that, but thankfully it appears in tiny amounts here and there in the bread. It plays the same role as the slaw in the sandwich. I brought some back for a colleague, and she practically swooned over it.

I devoured that sandwich like Jabba eating a frog-thing. Like Cthulhu consuming humanity. Like a hungry guy eating a sandwich. (OK, I didn’t try on that last one.) Maybe because I hadn’t eaten since breakfast (six hours ago), or maybe because it was just that good, I don’t know; it’s probably a little of column A and a little of column B. The restaurant could’ve burned down and I wouldn’t have noticed, I was that engrossed in the meal.

When I go back—because oh yes, I’m going back—I’ll try the cheese steak sandwich, on Rick’s recommendation.

Folks, if you love barbecue, do yourselves a favour and head over to Holy Smokez. And bring a pillow.

Holy Smokez
1133 Dundas St. E., Unit #2
647-799-2273
holysmokez.com

Cthulhu image from Dr. FaustusAU, from his children’s book adaptation of The Call of Cthulhu.

Burger Legend

The main man

I love burgers. I mean, I LOVE burgers. In fact, I daresay they’re my favourite food. Yeah, yeah, I know that’s not a critical foodie choice, but I don’t care. Jughead is my role model.

In the last few years, burger joints have been popping up all over the GTA, most of them in Toronto and many of them embracing the fresh-beef-ground-daily-in-house-with-no-fillers philosophy of burger-making. I have long applauded this approach and promote it to my friends often, because frankly—there isn’t a better way to make a burger in my opinion. In my burger-tasting experience so far, my top three places in descending order are The Stockyards, Holy Chuck, and The Burger’s Priest.

Mississauga got a taste of this philosophy when Five Guys opened up a location at Burnthamthorpe and Erin Mills (though I don’t know their freezing/grinding methods, so I can’t say for sure). Another location opened somewhat recently at Dixie and Dundas, and yet another is rumoured for Heartland. While Five Guys is all well and good, there’s a new joint in town in the same style: Burger Legend.

Burger Legend is located in Streetsville, at Thomas and Queen (less than a block south from my new favourite pizza place in the city, Goodfellas); they started as a food truck, and now they’ve got a restaurant. Last Saturday (a day after their grand opening), my sister and I showed up to taste the city’s newest burger.

The classic

The place is a lot prettier and cleaner than Five Guys; it mercifully lacks the fast-food greasy-tile feel. We were there around 2:30 in the afternoon, and it was quiet. We ordered, and didn’t wait all that long to get the food; it was faster than I expected. I figured I’d start with the regular burger and go from there, so I had “The Classic”: cheese (and it’s real cheese, not processed), tomatoes, mixed greens, and “Bawss” sauce. And I added bacon (maple-smoked), sautéed onions and barbecue sauce, because duh.

The burger lived up to my expectations, but there were a few things slightly off. Yes, the meat was fresh, loosely packed and had no fillers: it was just beef and salt. But it was a bit too loosely packed; it fell apart a little too quickly. The cheese was plentiful and melted, the onions were finely chopped and well-cooked, and it wasn’t overflowing with sauce—the balance was right.

The bacon is seriously thick; so thick, in fact, that it presented me with a slight impediment to biting and chewing the food. Ideally, you want all the ingredients to come away in one clean bite, without much dragging. This bacon prevented that. Don’t get me wrong—it was good, but in this one instance I think the burger could be better served if the bacon was a little thinner and easier to bite into.

As for the fries, they’re fresh cut and double-fried, so they were nice and crisp. No complaints there. I think the next time I go, I’m going to try the poutine, because who needs to live forever anyway?

Verdict: Burger Legend isn’t as good as any of my top three (it will be very difficult for anyone to beat Stockyards, in my opinion), but that’s by a slim margin. It’s quite good, and a welcome addition to Mississauga’s burger scene. I, for one, am really happy they’re here, and I hope more places follow suit.

Burger Legend
236 Queen St. S.
416-918-6308

The Sword

The day started off with my great-aunt’s 90^th birthday party. I know: so metal.

My cousin and I were going to see The Sword later on; they were due to hit the stage at Lee’s Palace at 11:50, so we had plenty of time to do both events (said great-aunt is his grandmother, you see). The snow had started up earlier in the evening, and though I detest driving in snow, I’d missed The Sword the last three or four times they were here, and I’d be damned if I’d miss them again.

I’ve been into this band since their first release, Age of Winters, back in 2006. There are many labels you can affix to them, if you wish—doom metal, stoner metal, sludge metal—and each of them would be in its own way, correct. But in a nutshell, they’re a metal band that owes the majority of its sound to Black Sabbath. There’s no way I could talk about this band without bringing up Sabbath, with their big, catchy riffs, occult/fantasy themes, and a singer who even sounds a bit like Ozzy. They even had an Orange stack—these guys are serious.

So we get there around 11:20, after a surprisingly easy but slow drive… only to find that The Sword has already started their set, and were mid-way through “Cloak of Feathers”! What the hell happened to the 11:50 start time, as posted on the Collective Concerts and Lee’s Palace websites?  Thankfully that was probably their opening number, so we really didn’t miss anything. In we went.

The place was rammed; there was no way we were going to be able to push our way through towards the front to get a better view, especially with our bulky coats and my completely fogged-over glasses. We stuck to the back and managed to mostly see the band, despite EVERY TALL PERSON IN TORONTO being in front of us. Ugh. I don’t ask for much. Just a few more inches in height would really help. Science, where are we on this?!

The Sword, to me, presents an interesting paradox: they violate my most sacred rule of music, the one that often determines whether or not I get into a band: the vocals. I need a solid vocalist, or I lose interest. It’s not that their singer, J.D. Cronise, is bad—he’s not off-key or anything—but his vocals tend to come off as thin. And in metal, you often want a strong, soaring vocalist, to match the intensity of the music. The worst part is that his vocals are always buried in the mix, both in the studio and live. I was hoping that it was just a studio thing, but nope, he’s always drowned out by the instruments, and maybe that has more to do with it than his actual singing voice. In any case, dude, I want to hear you!

So then, if they violate my most sacred rule, why do I love this band so much?

I’ll tell you why: riffs. Meaty, bludgeon-you-over-the-head-with-a-tree-trunk riffs. Riffs that say they worship at the altar of Iommi—as do I, and as any metalhead worth their salt should. I’ve never had a band win me over with just their riffs, but as the show went on and they kept playing awesome song after awesome song, the complaints I had about vocals and vocal levels eventually melted away, along with my face, in a frenzy of headbanging.

It was a short-ish set, about an hour and twenty, and though they played a lot of material from their 2012 (and most recent) album, Apocryphon, it didn’t dominate—they mixed it up with songs from each of their four albums (Age of Winters, Gods of the Earth, and Warp Riders). Everything they played made me happy to be a metalhead.

The Sword is part of what some people have been calling the “retro-metal” movement, which, as far as I can tell, is a group of bands attempting to recapture the sound of ’70s and ’80s metal bands. This has also been called “heritage metal” and (more mockingly?) “vest metal.” In other words, this is what I’ve been waiting for! I’m so tired of the unintelligible death grunts and the blazing-fast brutal guitar work in modern metal. Not that I have anything against it, but if that’s all that’s happening… zzz. So yay for The Sword and other bands like them. It’s about time.

I can’t wait for them to come back.

And now, some bonus photos:

The shirt I wore (L), and the shirt I bought (C). Because the uniform is important. (R) Breakfast the next morning: chicken and waffles from The Stockyards. Because I’d be crazy not to.

(Originally posted on mississaugalife.ca.)

I Wouldn’t Buy that for a Dollar

I didn’t want to see the new RoboCop.

Like many others, I’m a huge fan of the original 1987 film. I’ve seen it countless times, I can quote entire scenes if not the whole thing, and I once finished the arcade game on one quarter (I played it a lot). It’s also directly responsible for desensitizing me to movie violence—the jury’s still out on whether that’s a good or bad thing.

So I really wasn’t all that interested in seeing this, but a friend had free passes; it wasn’t that hard a decision to go. (Nutshell plot, for the three of you out there who haven’t seen the first RoboCop: cop gets killed by bad guys and is resurrected as an unstoppable cyborg killing machine of the law.) Now that I’ve seen this remake, I think I can confidently say: don’t bother.

It’s not that this new version is bad, but it’s not particularly good, either. It’s a very different take on the story, and it doesn’t work nearly as well. The film spins its wheels way too often; there’s too much time wasted in the backstory, the psychological effects of being a cyborg, and the minutiae of how the robotic body works.

Sure, it’s pretty. The film is loaded in CGI, but it doesn’t bog down the works. The PG rating, which I thought for sure would be a hindrance, actually wasn’t a big deal. The movie isn’t ultraviolent, but it is violent, make no mistake—there’s just no excessive blood spray or nuclear-waste-melting. And there’s no real “big bad” in the film. As far as villains go, yeah, corporations are evil and soulless or whatever, but the visceral thrill of seeing the clearly defined Bad Guy(s) finally get his/their comeuppance is lost.

The acting is all right; Michael Keaton seems oddly jittery, Gary Oldman is always great, and does Samuel L. Jackson have a clause in his contracts stating that he has to say “motherf****r” in every film? Jackson does a great job at portraying a loudmouth right-wing TV pundit. He’s fun to watch, though he appears too often for my taste; it breaks up the flow of the film. Joel Kinnaman was OK, but it could’ve been anyone in the suit. Oddly enough, it was when he was emotionless that he was most effective, but that might be because he’s echoing Peter Weller. Although it was genuinely freaky when he sees what’s left of his body; I think that was the only time I had an emotional reaction to what was happening on screen.

The film is also utterly humourless, despite occasional bits of satire. I mean, yes, the original RoboCop had even darker satire and was certainly a product of its time, released at the height of the Cold War in the Reagan/Thatcher-era ’80s. It was loaded in one-liners, and though some get re-used here, they just don’t have the same effect. Not that we should expect them to, but if so, then why use them at all? Maybe a post-9/11 RoboCop is supposed to be devoid of humour? Maybe we’re getting the RoboCop this era deserves?

The movie isn’t without commentary, though, touching on military drone strikes abroad and the idea of free will. This film reverses the premise of the original a bit, in that Alex Murphy starts out with his humanity intact: his memories and identity are whole. The filmmakers wanted to show us the gradual stripping of Murphy’s humanity through technological manipulation, and then the triumph of said humanity as Murphy regains control. Much of the film deals with Murphy trying to remain connected to his wife and son; another departure from the original.

Overall, I felt bored in theatre; the movie largely felt flat to me, and much longer than its 108-minute running time. It’s a rehash that doesn’t break any new ground—so why does it exist? I left the theatre feeling lukewarm about the whole thing; a resounding “meh.”

Verdict: The original RoboCop never needed a remake. It’s a classic that stands on its own. If you’re going to watch a version of this movie, watch that one.

And now, let’s look at an Honest Trailer for RoboCop. Because it’s fun.

(Originally posted on mississaugalife.ca.)