Your Highness

The disenfranchised outnumber the popular. For the select few for whom the world is a wonder, there are countless more for whom joy is found only in escapism, fantasy or making obscenely large amounts of money. The entertainment industry is a massive monster with more heads than can be counted, from games to television, comics, movies, music; all of which cater to the notion that the moment at hand is insufficient. This is by no means a rant against imagination, if anything it is the most valuable asset we have as humans. It is because we can imaging things beyond our present grasp that we strive to improve yourself and the lives we live. It is not surprising how people out there have a special place in their hearts for Tolkien like fantasy, one need only look at how exceptionally well the Lord of The Rings franchise is doing, and all similar movies based around that theme. Though with popularity comes the inevitable money minded with their milking cups, and my oh my do they intend to suck it dry of any residual originality. Up until now the fantasy genre has looked as bleak as the tits of a seventy year old hooker, just mournful.

Then this movie came along. To me this feels like the most relatable and honest fantasy movie I have seen in a while. Oh there are gripes, like the fact that the actor’s accents and manner of speaking feels forced, the use of contemporary slang terms seems out of place, and sometimes the reason for taking the piss seems to miss the bowl completely. Thought the reason why this feels so close to home is because the humour seems familiar. Then it hits me, this movie is the cinematic representation of a Dungeons and Dragons game, in which everyone is getting drunk, and the Dungeon Master takes a shot of tequila every time someone rolls a d20. Why else would a fat guy get surrounded by a troop of half nude and dirty ladies unless it was good old fashioned author insertion fantasy? And don’t tell me the molesting stoner wizard is not his way of coming to terms with his unemployed uncle who would give him money if he came to visit after school. If we were to push the stereo type to its limits then it would make sense that in a basement full of pimply virgins that virginity would be coveted. I will admit that that last sentence was completely fictional and unfair; Clearasil does work.

This movie should however only be judged upon the bases of what it is, and that is a comedy. Therefore we must ask the most important question of all, is it funny. The answer is a resounding, hells yeah. For so long the fantasy genre has been taking itself a bit too seriously. All the wizards and mages scowling at every turn and not once going to their friends and saying, “hey man, check it out. I can shoot fire from my hands and change the weather with my mind. I rock so hard I think I am giving myself wood”, because… well… yeah. I am tempted to go on a Harry Potter rant but I must remain focused on this one. Even in a world as supposedly boring as ours, one struggles to not gape in awe of our technological and architectural achievements, or be humbled by the wonders of nature. Now add magic, mythical creatures and a city full of midgets; how does that not make things better. 


The way this movie does not go out of its way to take itself too seriously, with the type of anal retentively that would make it able to swallow coal and pass diamonds, in fact makes it more relatable. If I killed my first monitor, who tried to rape my friend, I too would wear its cock as trophy. I mean, would you mess with a guy wearing a monitor’s cock. I did not think so. It’s the kind of movie that makes me wish I could play Oblivion multiplayer, with a friend, and get drunk, and do manly stuff, with our huge muscles and long swords…

It’s good for a laugh, and you get to see Natalie Portman in a leather G-string (why did it take me this long to mention that part of the movie). The movie is above all fun, and that’s what it intended to be. There is a bit of a moral thingy in there some were but then I remember Natalie Portman in that leather G-string and somehow it escapes me.

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Just Go With it

Some movies are painful to watch, this is one of those movies. This is one of those movies that mistakes the audiences discomfort with humor. I think I have chuckled twice, and that’s being generous. I was less uncomfortable when I watched Aron Ralston (James Franco) cut his own arm off in 127 Hours. I am not the type of person who walks out of a movie theater before the movie finishes, it’s like throwing away money, or shooting your own Thai slave-boy in-between the legs. If I were not forced to review this movie I would leave and slowly claw away at my own skin until I pass out from the pain. Some movies are poorly written, some are badly directed or have an ill use of the budget, hell their acting may be terrible, but this movie is not bad as much as it make me feel bad for watching it. There are so many clichés, too many uncomfortable moments, and the ending is so painfully obvious it makes watching the rest of the movie awkward. The little girls painfully poor British accent actually made me gag. Besides, who would decide that a spar day with your new boyfriend’s soon to be ex-wife is good idea. If I were Adam Sander’s character I would check her inner thighs for scars because she displays obvious masochistic tendencies. I’m not sure if that makes her more or less hot. Fine, a hulla dance off is an interesting change, especially if it ends in someone clenching a coconut with their but cheeks.

The events of this movie revolve around an elaborate lie told by Adam Sandler’s character to a cool hot 23 year old he meets at a party, about why he has a wedding ring. Now the real reason is a genuine tear jerker. Twenty years ago, about an hour before he is meant get married he finds out his wife has been cheating on him and still intends to. Come now, have you ever heard a better story upon which to base a sympathy screw. Why he has to keep making up a fake wife is beyond me. Let’s not forget the fact that if pretending he is married gets him allot of under the cover action, what does this movie say about women, that they run around trying to make married men feel better with the super healing vagina powers. Actually I rather like the imagery. Still, if he had been honest with the hot chick whose boat he rocked on the beach, she would have a) understood, b) found him more appealing dew to his anguish ridden past, c) he would have had good and meaningful relationship with a hot young girl that would have lasted all of a week. If you actually think about it, if you spend an entire weekend creating a fake life and identity and then expecting them to honestly have feelings for you, then castration should be implemented forthwith. I have been in relationships with people who have based parts of the relationship on a lie, especially about their past, and when the truth came to light, the pain was excruciating. Had she been honest, no matter how bad the past may have been, the relationship would have been so much better, and may not have ended in such a way that LED me to drink myself into the hospital. Oh wait, then ending, this ham handed attempt to tote the power of honesty is about as satisfying and climactic as trying to bed a beached whale while downing Serotonin-reuptake- inhibitors and blood pressure medication. For those of you who don’t get the joke, those are the kind of pills you give your daughter’s boyfriend to prevent them from pitching a tent, building the skyscraper, raising the flag, getting wood, having not-just-a-stiff-upper-lip, getting a hard-on... I’m running out of ideas here so add some more in the comment section.

This movie sucks so much it does not even deserve an obviously homosexual reference. The worst thing is, Adam Sandler in Funny People made fun of himself for continuously making crappy movies, and yet he goes out makes more of them. Maybe he wants us not to watch them, maybe he wants to go the way of Pauly Shore and be booed into obscurity. To think, I used to love his movies, but then again that was before my testicles descended

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Catwoman

Now I am going to try and get through this review without any gratuitous “cat” jokes, but no promises.

Even though people use comic books as the source of parody, they in fact have moments of sheer poetic genius. Now because I have had the luxury of enjoying the witty banter from the likes of Deadpool, I found the mid fight scene dialogue in this movie is painful and embarrassing. If you look closely you can in fact see how much it pains the actors to force those lines out of their mouths. I have heard more authentically delivered lines in pornography. I think Hale Barry was more comfortable topless on the set of Sword Fish, than deliver some of these lines. Before I continue I would like to point out now, this movie does present feminism and female empowerment as criminal, but only because men don’t allow women to steal pretty things they like. I wish that was a facetious take on the event of the movie, or even a disproportionate representation of the main character, but it’s not. Don’t worry I will go into further depth to prove my point.

The movie starts with as much subtle foreshadowing as a jackhammer on a pregnant woman’s stomach. Don’t get me started on the whiney protagonist who has the audacity to complain about having a job drawing advertisements for a cosmetic company, instead of being an “artist”. I have many friends with art degrees who would give a good chunk of their genital organs to land a steady pay check like that. So this lady finds out that if the company’s new face cream, is not used anymore, makes you face so grotesque that even Hannibal Lecture would not eat your cheeks. They shoot, she runs down a poop shaft and gets flushed out of the picture, or so they think. Low and behold, the counsel of cuddly house cats unites to give her new life and super powers. Oh how proud and majestic they looked, Midnight, Moonshine, Fluffy and Fuzzy Paws. The result is that she gets then loses the guy, loses her job and becomes a thief, hisses at dogs, and becomes a wanted criminal would eventually shacks up with a billionaire with a bat fetish. This is because of, well in the movie anyway, a dissociative personality disorder that makes her a masculine douche, but with tits in tight leather and acrobatic super skills. If this movie is in any way trying to empower women, then why dis bitch be crazy. No really, this lady is legit crazy. I mean Michelle Pfeiffer in Batman Returns is more of the Schizophrenic crazy, the battle with sanity, desire and overall manic split in affect, in conclusion, hotness. However, this Catwoman’s sharp flip flopping without a natural progression, which gives the impression of an alien consciousness consuming her instead of a tangled web of hidden drives exploding uninhibited onto the surface. Let us not forget that she prevents a company from bringing out a product that gives women granite strong skin. Yes, if you stopped using the cream it would make you look like Machete but hey, nothing awesome is for free these days. This would end all violence against women. If fact. It could have been the next step in our evolution. Think about it, no scrapes, cuts or bruises.

You know what. I am going to cop out of continuing to review this movie. It’s not good, don’t watch it. It’s silly. The plot is thin. The conclusion is obvious. There is no tangible dramatic tension. I am over it. The worst thing is, I really liked the Catwoman character. To think, I used to pleasure myself to images of cat woman and Hale Berry, but together, epic failure.

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