Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Hop




Now I could make a lovely joke about how Russell Brand Just Hopped into the lime light, but that would be a Cheap Shot. There is one thing that I will concede to and that is the fact that he must have the most amazing manager. If she’s a woman, then her nipples must surly taste of beer or caramel.  Is the overexposure a rite of passage for upcoming middle-age(ish) comedians? Let’s not forget the pace at which these things come out; I mean it like two to three a year. They work so much harder than I ever do, so I suppose they deserve all the fame and riches.  And before I start to comment on the movie itself, let me just say, thank Buddha Hugh Laurie is using his native British accent in a movie.  I feel like the last time I heard a British Hugh Laurie was in Black Adder.

Another comment before I continue with the actual review, there is a good reason why people opt for pirate movies over DVD’s. The answer is skipping, epic lag, and lost parts of a movie.  My copy of this movie was brand new, it had only been rented out twice, yet trying to watch so much as a moment of it felt like pulling teeth out through my urethra.  People may go on and on about the quality, but now that 2 terabyte hard drives have become the norm, I don’t see how a HD rip makes it any worse than a DVD, when watched on a computer monitor. I am sorry if I am not talking to the social amongst the human race who watch movies with their friends, but alas I only see people in bars because my friends have not been bothered to visit me in 6 months, except the ones that come in from out of town and use my flat as a motel and get me in trouble with my land-lord. Let me also add that if you are the kind of tech yuppie who bought the PS3 because it had Blue-Ray support, please find the nearest meat grinder, undergo hypnosis to make you think it’s a vagina, take it out to a nice restaurant, pay for the meal, wear an expensive condom, light some candles, slip it a roofy, then place you penis inside it, lean back and scream out in agony as your manhood is ripped from between your legs.



I was surprised by how well the movie integrates the CGI and live action.  Admittedly it was no District 9, but it was not as bad as that one Bugs Bunny Movie with Brendon Frasier.  So let’s summarize the plot in one sentence. The Easter Bunny’s son, yes this is an aristocratic lineage with ascribed status and good old fashioned genetic determinism, wants to be a drummer, rather than a magical, super powered bunny who has access to infinite amounts of candy and only works one day a year, who then meets up with a guy who can’t get a basic job but is destined for greatness, blab bla bla bla bla. This movie did strike a chord with me because after my postgraduate degree in psychology I crawled into the sunlight hoping to find the pastures of employment. I was prepared to work hard and make my mark in the world. Sadly, all I found was a professional wasteland in the grips of an economic recession. Never before was I so disheartened by being the discursive norm. My blond hair, blue eyes and pasty skin no longer affording me the type of privilege it did my forefathers.  In fact, there are many companies that are legally forced to not hire me. So here I am, working for less money than a maid, watching a movie were a guy is in the same position I am, who is not prepared to work as hard as I am, and he gets to be a bunny for no particular reason other than he was lucky enough to hit him with a car. However, for a brief moment, I was half filled with hope, the jovial idea that perhaps things will get better.  However, when the movie came to an end, the world still had all its unfortunate problems, and in fact, the movie does not provide any advice for us other than, don’t worry, luck and circumstance will lead us to happiness in about two weeks.
Sadly, I don’t see this movie becoming a classic any time soon. It borrowed too much from the “this was cool last year” tree. David Hassle Hoff has been played to death. I was almost expecting the waitress to tell EB that the carrot cake is a lie. And hay, dear Buddha, why are all soon-to-be-friends unable to stand each other when they first meet. That shit just does not make any sense. 
So here is my summery, its strangely relatable but for teenagers, the voice acting is great, watch stoned. 


Step Up 3



This is yet another installment of what appears to be a myriad of dance movies. Every time I look under a cultural rock now days I seem to find a form of dance being utilized to encapsulate the subculture. From pristine perfection to underground grime, the visual medium of film finds a means for the human body to be involved in the expression and communication of the characters place in their world. 

Even though the classic and worn out underdog story is one we have come to expect from this genre, it’s a relief to see that this movie takes a refreshing take on… I’m just kidding. This movie is down to the last letter everything you would expect. Yes, at times this movie has scenes so epically cool that that even a Miracle-Whip-white boy like me can’t help but holler “Booya”.  This movie even has the coolest romantic dance scene. But yet again dancing in a competition lets the good hearted underdogs win the money to keep whatever it is that means so much to them, in this instance it’s their club/home/practice area. There is not a shred of dramatic tension because we all know that the end of the movie will provide as many smiles as the half-clad hottie will induce erections.  

So if you like seeing flailing limbs and the human body do things that that make you involuntarily flinch, put you hand in front of your mouth and scream “sick, give this movie a chance. But do not expect any revolutionary narrative devices. 

The characters are at times enduring, the love interests are shiny neon signs of obvious and the girls are hot enough to enjoy with a jar of Vaseline. If you like dance movies, and fanatically upload vid of yourself dancing to Beyonce’s “All the single ladies” on Youtube, then this movie is for you. In fact, if you have secretly been watching trailers for dance movies with salivating anticipation, then you would most probably enjoy this movie as well. But if dance movies have never made your naughty bits tingle, then I doubt any amount of Viagra would give you the down under desire to see this movie. 
  


Monday, July 9, 2012

Booty Pop



Let it not be said that I hate all of mankind, but most of it has most certainly been earmarked for a hasty removal. At first I though Toddlers In Tiaras was a grotesque abuse of children, then I saw this. A part of me feels like the kid may have written this himself, which means that for the last five years of his life his existence has been completely devoid of valuable culture. I hate using the tear Paedophile, but when you have a kid ejaculating with a phallic water pistol all over the seismic breasts of a woman in a swim suit, you have to wonder what was the adult holding the video camera think. I am sure that the kid was safe, it may just have been a fun day at the pool for him, but I see those girls popping their booties and I want to start touching myself, but there is a 6 year old kid ruing the entire thing for me. Now that is just unfair. How dare this child… sorry I think I am getting off topic a bit.
It was mentioned in to comments and I tend to agree, of the genders of the boy and the scantily clad women were replaced then arrest warrants would be handed out like candy by a paedophile. Now if you kindly excuse me I have to digitally re-master 30 years of under 16 Olympic gymnastic videos for a client in Japan. 

Sucker Punch




Before I fill the cracks in this move with trinitrotoluene and Nitro-glycerine, in the express intent of fellating it to sexy smithereens – I mean blow, so sorry – let me get it over and done with and say that, dear Ganesh, this movie is many bucket loads of pretty. It can be summarized in the term, fap-tastic. It even has a soundtrack that makes me wish my candles were all lit and I was losing myself in the rhythmic thrusts of a lover’s embrace.

Now to look at the movie with kind of clarity men only get after climax, when the abruptly induced P.O.D. (post Orgasmic Disgust) lets you see past the glossy candy coating, and you are left with the shallow, frail, poorly nourished and overall weak remnants of a movie that looked so great in the haze of your once triumphant erection.  The movie exists on three levels, neither one in any way really needing the other, except to either ride on the Inception band-wagon or to use misdirection to give the illusion of depth.  You see, at the base level the story is simple but powerful, the type of tail that would make for a compelling short story that could be masterfully told by, let us say Stephen King for example, mostly because of the tragic nature of the end. It is pretty much about a girl whose mother dies, leaves all her wealth to her two daughters and not the money hungry new husband, who subsequently loses his temper, confrontations ensue, youngest daughter dies, oldest gets thrown into an asylum by the authoritarian masculine disciplinary discursive institutionalization system  of the time so she can get lobotomized, *inhale* does some things to escape the awful conditions of the asylum that are instigated by the rape-inclined male orderly, people die, she lets herself get caught and hence lobotomized so some-one else can escape, irregularities in the paperwork get the orderly caught, and he’s a snitch if ever there were one, so all the bad people are going to get punished but the ending doesn’t have too many rainbows, which means I get to munch on a nice big slice of catharsis pie, yummy.  Plus you get to see the endings tragedy in the beginning, so it double barrel’s you with dramatic tension and the classic Greek tragedy structure we like so much with our morning cereal.

                If they had used this alone in a ninety minute to two hour long movie, it could have been a powerful psychological thriller. But alas it got Gothica flash backs, so it decided to tart itself up by adding on completely new story on top of it, I know right, that is in fact far more shallow, but is presented, I think, as her internal coping mechanism for what is going on around her. In this dolled up version of events she is at a nightclub that keeps its girls hostage, where the dancers are whored out. She plans and executes the escape attempt in this version of the story, but it’s really happening in the first version of the story. The premise is that she dances and the other girls steal things needed to escape.

                So far, so followed, but it seems like that is all just pandering for the scenes that are the ultimate suck up to the Big-Boy’s Club of cool. I mean the type of cool you just want to spell with a K for no good reason, or am I the only one who ever feels like that.  You see, when she dances, she goes to the strange, violent and obscenely kick-ass alternative world that looks like it came from an E3 convention, because… now this is where I get stumped. These scenes seem to only give us a crude metaphorical representation of the plans objectives and the dangers they entail. Other than that it they seem to only serve the purpose of taking everything the internet (4chan) can’t get enough masturbating to and wrapping it in an insanely attractive box and going “Ta-Da, you have to like this, we followed the recipe to the letter”. This recipe is a menagerie of fan favourites such as  a giant robot samurai with a Gatling gun, steam punk zombie Nazis fighting girls in school uniforms and a Dreadnaught, Orcs, Dragons, the guy from Kung-Fu who gave us the pebble from the hand snatching, robots, a Samurai sword, Epic explosions, girls and tons of guns. It then applies icing on the cake with copious and unnecessary aesthetically brilliant violence to stoke the thick and pulsating phallus of cool. The way they move and shoot when they are up against the undead anti-Semites is frighteningly reminiscent of Counter Strike meets the chicks of Gears of War, with mini Skirts instead of power amour. And the strange thing is, a part of me is certain it was done intentionally, just to make it cooler.

Sadly, by trying so hard, it lacked what truly makes a movie “Cool”, creativity. This movie just sat down and tried to tick off as many things as it could in the hopes of keeping us happy and not asking to many questions about the narrative’s structure or progression. “Just enjoy the pretty pictures,” it says to us, while with one hand it strokes our head and coos, yet with the other hand it quietly faps and trolls on /b/.

Don’t you love the dehumanizing nick names the girls get, just to nail in that final “women are objects in our society” plug, while at the same time basing the selling point around substituting  powerful and meaningful moments in the narrative with pandering to Internet memes. Question, where do girls in miniskirts and tight fitting shirts keep the bucket loads of ammo they go through as if they were on Metal Storm.
Please tell me “waking the mother” is an inter-textual reference/euphemism for giving the mayor and erection, because if it is, I am so using. Stuff it, I will use it anyway because its cools.

 Fuck them for killing a baby dragon.


                The strangest thing to me is the fact that the most visually off-putting thing in the movie is in fact lead actress. Many people might argue that she is the pinnacle of hot. They will herald her hotness, whilst listing every segment of her and how it’s exactly what we think is hot, or at least strive towards, and therein lays the problem. In the same way the closer an artificial object gets to looking real it borders on the Uncanny Valley, so if a person looks too much like an artificial concept of beauty the weirder and more unappealing they look. If I was wrong about this then Heat Magazine would not be doing monthly exposés on plastic surgery addiction/mishaps. So the main gal actually reverses into the uncanny valley.  And she only has one expression, the Botox-ed, blank stare, pouting, ooze hotness into the distance look. Her face turns me off. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see the aesthetic appeal in a woman who resembles more a doll or the surgically altered than a real human being.

I have just realised for what this movie will be burned by the pages of history for, when I write them of course. This movie, on a base level, trivialises its characters. It sits in a boardroom and touts with certainty how “no one wants to watch a touchy feely movie about psycho chicks on their period, just go and Google ‘what gives guys hard-on’s’ and pad the Buddha out of it. Oh, and call my daughter, tell her daddy can’t come her cello recital, he’s got to deposit some seminal fluid on the chest of a well endowed exotic dancer tonight”. Escapism is great, but when it is done at the cost of a great narrative, it conveys to the audience that the suffering and tribulations of others need not, nor should it warrant our attention, lest it be riddled with CGI splendour.



The Smurfs



The great question is, am I going to hate myself for reviewing this movie, and the answer, most likely. I had to actively hide my glee when seeing the trailer, because sight of a guy with a beard yelling “yay Smurfs” may put people on paedophile alert. And I wear glasses, so it’s a triple threat. The fact that I was wearing a trench coat was purely accidental.  You see, I, like many of my generation, still look back with powerful nostalgia on the days of Gummy Bears (which still rock I will have you know) and Anamaniacs (which still makes me laugh)
So, let me take a look and see what all the fuss is about.

Right. So now that I have sat though the movie, I am left with a resounding sensation that I suppose may be compared to enjoyment. I mean, sure I laughed at times. Yes Gargamel was very well portrayed with the classic slap-stick humour that would appeal to children, the obvious target audience. It’s not as though the incorporation of classic rock did not help with the nostalgia. Despite my extremely jaded soul, there is something beautiful about Grumpy Smurf’s sexual infatuation with a plushy M&M doll. I must admit, what was once a set of cute and adorable fictional characters from my past (that did far too often bear the brunt of Rule 34), have now become frighteningly creepy. Aside from being devoid of a chin or any proper lower jaw, the realistic skin texture just made them too real.  They looked more like little blue German molester pimps with a disturbingly cheerful disposition, and the seemingly preternatural ability to not get hurt when falling down from extreme heights. It seems to me that humans are one of the only animals that don’t do so well with landing. 

The problem with trying to review this movie is that I am not too sure what to say. Like many children’s movies it is stuffed with more violence than one should feel comfortable with, but as long as the guy getting hurts looks funny, then it’s all okay.  And it comfortably crawls into the comfortable niche of nostalgic recreations, were, and this scares me, the kids who watched this show when it first came out now have kids of their own to show this to. And from that perspective, this movie makes sense. Why not share an enjoyable nostalgic moment with this thing you have made, who insists on eating all your food. This is not for the fans of yester year, purely (I mean as far as I can remember it seems to hold up to the cannon, but who cares really, unless you take Rule 34 a bit too far and paint your groin a friendly shade of blue, give it a blond wig and a dress, then make it throw up). It’s for the kids of today, and gives us a moment to feel like the kids we used to be, but with booze, casual sex and a driver’s licences. 


PS: Let it be know that were I a man who enjoyed the company of other men, but whilst being naked,  Neil Patrick Harris would be int he top three of my To-Nail-List. Just in case you were unsure

Monday, February 27, 2012

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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Friday, February 17, 2012

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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Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Rango


Before I review this movie I have to warn you, I am going to be really nice to this movie. I know it’s not as much fun. Hush now, I tell you, oh how I wanted to not like this movie. I was quite content to despise it as a film that tried too hard. I was sure I was going to when not five minutes into the movie there was ‘Fear in Los Vegas’ reference. But in fact the movie is quite good, easily bordering of fantastic. The characters in the film are well animated and brimming with charm. The animals effortlessly fitted each individual’s personality.

Now the story. The introduction of a lonely protagonist, without an identity, who constantly changes in his solitude, makes for an interesting point of departure for character progression. It poses the question as to who are we if no one perceives us. Can a man alone have an identity? When Rango has to face the weight of his own personal fable, he realises that by living the construct, he has in fact manifested it and becomes more than the story.

The movie is filled with small homages to other movies, such as a scene with a bit of banjo Wagner for the ‘Apocalypse Now’ reference. In general, the movie does not come across as thought it was written for children, which does not surprise me seeing as it is a Nickelodeon film. I am convinced that all Nickelodeon shows are written for the ill-mined parents of delinquent children. Besides, how many kids would recognise Hunter S. Thompson or appreciate that Clint Eastwood is the spirit of the west. I would try and make a joke out of it, but he’s so cool. So I can’t. Besides, seeing as Rango is an actor, it would make sense that to him the spirit would be an actor.

As a purely western film, the movie has all the elements needed to make an epic tail, but this one adds to it the breaking of the forth wall and a strange awareness of its own genre. It even takes a stance of self-reflection alongside the audience with a classic Greek Theatrical element of a choir, who speaks to the audiences and answers questions them may have about the events in the story. The fact that they are a Mexican band adds to the flavour and humour of the film. Combine that with a few surreal moments in the film, it culminates in an immersive tail.

With regards to the review, to quote the late and sublime Bill Hicks, “Don’t worry, funny material and laughter will be dubbed in later.”


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Saturday, August 27, 2011

Here After


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Psychics are dicks. I say this with irrefutable and unwavering certainty because I know that there are no such things as psychics outside of fiction. But among their brood, those who profess to be able to speak to the dead and make connections are grotesque and morally void scum that should be tied to the back of a pick-up truck and dragged naked down a dirt road and into a thorn bush. The nice thing is, this movie agrees with me. It presents us with the great longing humans have to understand things beyond your experiential capacity as well as our powerful interpersonal bonds. Excuse the momentary lack of humour, but speaking as a person who has lost people close to me, I think we can all agree that the suffering of those left behind is not something to be taken light of. Even I dare not mock the bereaved for a few harmless chuckles, so imaging those who have made a business out of exploiting it for financial gain. To clarify, I do not believe in a world or life hereafter, and the near death experiences can be reproduced in laboratory conditions and studied, despite the movies claims. Remember all you folks at home, movies are not documentaries. Life after death, as I see it, exists for the living, to give them solace for the great loss they have undergone. Even though I have a strong opinion on this matter, I have no place to interfere with other peoples relationships. Even when a person has died, the relationship still exists. Two people do not have relationships with each other, but two people each have a relationship with their perception of who the other person is. Hence the continued presence is not always necessary for there to be a relationship. So were an individual able to see into the depths of another’s heart and pull out harmful shadows caked in grimy grief when a person is not prepared for it would be traumatic not only for the individual undergoing it but also the person who is doing it. The very existence of secrecy, confidentiality and the degree to which we covet it should give you a good indicator of how valuable the privacy of one’s internal self is to its keeper. When this movies presents the sadness of loss, and rawness of grief and the hurt a human undergoes when they lose someone close to them, it makes sense that a kind and sensitive person would not enjoy being constantly bombarded by such pain. Even a momentary feeling of relief can only be of value if it is a true connection, but to poke at the wounds of others till they get an endorphin rush is just sadistic.

Despite all my rants about death and the afterlife, this movie is in fact about life. It deals with the struggles we as humans undergo in the attempt to feel close to each other, which when played against the very probability of loss, makes the connections so much the sweeter. If you like emotionally powerful dramas then I think you will enjoy this. If you charge people to help them connect with their dead relatives, then I hope your bone marrow turns to bullet ants and that they slowly and excruciatingly eat you alive.

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Catch and Release




I could summarize my feelings for this movie with the rather obvious statement, Kevin Smith is Jedi. However that feels like a cop out so I will examine the movie in further depth. Let it not be said that I lack all forms of integrity, only most of them. Life is messy at a simply biological level. When we add relationships to the picture, things get completely chaotic. We choose words in the hopes of sparing ourselves and others suffering, all the while cursed by the blinkers that keep us mortal. Pain and suffering is inevitable. Action, inaction, love, betrayal, secrets, truth and suffering all make life so spicy and tasteful, but have the terrible tendency of burning your sphincter as it passes through. This movie uses death as a means of portraying the life of a man through the memories of those close to him and how his past affects their capacity to carry on with their own lives, each other and the future. No matter what we do to pave over our mistakes, in some form or another they will impact those in our lives, even if it only comes to fruition post-mortem. I guess that’s the strange beauty of having people in your life. They hold you up when you stumble, they illuminate paths that were previously cast in shadows and they help break down the barriers that one hammer alone cannot damage. We tend to forget that people also become invested in our lives, which is a strange notion to most of us, to think that our actions and emotions reflect in the hearts of others, as though our limbs and words are tied to their spinal cords. As a race we are strongest a unit, thought in the necessary proximity we are at out most vulnerable. In this story we have the opportunity to examine this phenomenon.
Fine, I’ll stop being serious for a few minutes and make some humorous observations with a sprinkle of witty comments. If you have cheated on your girlfriend and are in the process of making the relationship “work”, then dear Buddha man, do not watch this movie with her, especial not if you have a good-looking, misunderstood Lothario as a friend. Trust me; things will end badly for you. Unless you get off on having your lady-squeeze leaving you for your boy –squeeze. In which case I dare say the impending drama, if videotaped, would be far more entertaining than the movie, maybe because of the Jerry Springer like atmosphere that shall surly accompany it. But really, life is messy and leaves us stained and tired, but this film deals with it eloquently. If you have any smelly corpses in you closets, watch this alone at first, then plan how you intend on spinning it so that you look good.
Yes Kevin Smith makes a Star Wars Reference.
PS: Watch Dogma, because if you don’t your, kids with have down syndrome

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Drive Angry


I wish I had seen this movie about eight years ago, long before I started to don the mask of irony and I lost the ability to indulge in mindless cool. I am rather sure that the director goes home, sits in the back of an American muscle car and masturbates to Robert Rodriguez films, then wipes his semen off on Preacher graphic novels, or anything else written by Garth Ennis. It is not that the movie is bad in the classical sense; it’s just that for a movie that seems to take itself rather seriously, it came off as particularly juvenile at times. when i say, at times, i mean all the time. It felt like the kind of story a kid would write in high school, and after he hands it in, he and his parents get called into the principal’s office so that little Tommy boy can explain himself. A part of me wants to go, “holy shit, their fucking in the middle of a gun fight, sweet”. To a lesser extent I am having Ghost Rider flash backs, though not as severe. Maybe this movie is Nicholas Cage trying to make amends. If that is the case, six points for effort but some of his lines were so unbelievable they made me flinch more than any of the gore. But the contractual “hot chick” in this movie is particularly fan-hard-on-inducing-tastic. It might sound strange, but the demon who gets sent down to catch him, to me at least, was so cool that I would say it saved this movie from being nothing more than a bad CGI, cars to compensate for not having a penis, too many explosions, ultra violent, needless tits and demonic elements movie.
Oh and well done mister writer sir, I get it, a guy who breaks out of hell called Milton, who happens to get shot in the eye. Very clever.

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Tuesday, August 9, 2011

I Am Number Four

What is it with movies these days? Hot teens are vampires, hot teens are werewolves, hot teens are aliens, and hot teens are super heroes. Did an entire generation of sexually frustrated geeks and there fan fic’s become the toast of Tinsel-Town. Though I guess it makes senses. The socially inept escapists will speak for the pockets of today’s socially inept escapists. Though I can’t help but wonder why all the good guy aliens resemble humans the most, and the more evil they become, the more grotesque they get depicted. And in this case you could not get a more classic chiseled brooder unless you condensed The OC season one and two into an Edward Cullan mold. Of course the alien becomes the nerd’s best friend and stands up to the jocks on his behalf. I wonder what inspired this bit of narrative, I say unto you in a deeply sarcastic tone. Wait, let’s not forget that the vapid cheerleader is in fact deep and companionate, who turns introspective after she “gets into photography”. Is that in any way related to when a boy gets his first erection and he “gets into masturbation”. Maybe it’s like the way the catholic clergy “gets into Underage Boys”. How can we be sure, I know I’m still scratching my crotch on this one? Besides, I know many popular and gregarious photographers. It’s not as though having a camera makes you too cool to be cool. Watching too much anime and playing WOW does. And besides, who uses film these days, you’re not retro chic, you’re silly. Then again she is hot, but still silly.

But you have to feel somewhat bad for Number Quarto for having such a hard time with his puberty, [insert sarcastic tone]. Humans start having erections, masturbating and getting hairy palms; he starts having super powers, needs to learn how to breathe and gets hot glowing hands. By now movie makers should have realized that it’s not tragic to give a kid super powers and then impose restrictions. It’s as tragic as getting a car and telling someone they are not allowed to run over small children.

And one other quam I have with underdog movies, why are all quarter backs evil bastards. How about a malevolent linebacker, I sure they’re far more ferocious. But maybe it’s my fault for not being able to relate because I am not an American nor did I go to a public High School. In fact the school I went to was more supportive of the debate team than any sports team and a person’s status was defined by your anime collection.

Another gripe I have with this movie and those of its kin, why do they keep portraying teenage love as being eternal. I can understand that they are wearing hormone blinkers and have a small capacity for comparison or perspective. Even though I have always found young love a suitable substitute for ipecac, this movie has bigger problems, such as the foundation of the whole plot. If the last nine guardians, who were fully fledged and hardcore, could not stop their planets doom, why should we the audience, believe that the untrained and fledgling few would stand a chance of saving the world all by themselves. But hey, that’s fine, because we all love the rise of the underdogs, hiding from the law and those who would see them destroyed. The only problem is, I watched “Battle Los Angelis” right before this, and then before that, “Skyline” and “Transformers: Darkside of the Moon. I will get to those movies at another time, trust me, but there is something to be learned from those films. Humans have weapons, and lots of them. Gosh darn it we sure are good at killing things, we have been practicing on each other ever since we were able to throw a hefty rock. I get aroused just thumbing through a gun magazine. I don’t know what half the stats are about but they have to do with the awesomeness with which they kill things and fiddle me a Hill Billy, that’s hot. And In I Am Number Four, those aliens don’t have the Man nor Fire power to take on a South African Squatter camp. All the nine needed to do was give a Nigerien cartel a ton or two of gold and all their troubles would have been solved. Let’s not mention the nukes, smart bombs, hydrogen bombs, Special Forces. If aliens do decide to come to our planet looking for a fight I promise you one thing, every man in camo pants will spill their man seed into their freshly pressed draws. We would celebrate the chance to murder indiscriminately, pillage technology and invoke large scale genocide. We’re not nice in masses. Why then do we need five kids who can force push and blink a few feet. Hold on, now I remember, to give this generation of social introverts something to masturbate over and base their future escapist tails upon.

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Now before I bend this movie over the proverbial barrel and do terrible things to it with my huge, quivering, satirical and analytical distain, let me quite clearly say I have nothing against low budget movies. “Bubba-ho-tep” and “Pieces of April” are among my favourite movies of all time, and they were done without the deep rhinestone pockets most Hollywood films waist on Michael Bane. I hear that the possibly upcoming Deadpool Movie will not be made on an epically huge budget, and that is just dandy by me. It gives them far more play with regards to target audience. With good acting, a strong scrip and smart directing, a lot can be done with a little. This movie, however, did nothing with what very little it had to start with. If someone tries to tell me that in fact this was a large budget film, then obviously most, if not all of the cash was spent on old tranny hookers and mountains of cocaine, perhaps enough mind altering drugs to make a pièce of crap like this seem plausible. Maybe they had the same dealers as the director of Pluto Nash. Yes, I went there.

I thought that we had long since nailed shut the possibility box in which films of this poor a calibre could be made. What frightens me most of all is that the cast is rather A list(ish). Fine, it’s more of a B list cast but still, in a movie so strikingly T class, the fit is all wrong. I don’t think I have properly conveyed to you, my adoring audience, just how inconceivably horrific this movie is. On every level, cinematography, props, lighting, narrative progression, dead Buddha the acting was so bad that had I seen it in a high school play I would be remiss not to walk out in protest. There are more characters than one can care about. The mythology is so poorly explained that it is in no way immersive. The genetic determinism makes the protagonist feel pompous and downright silly. I have seen better action scenes in porn, and I am not kidding, just take a look at “Pirates I” and “Pirates II”. For the first fifteen minutes of the movie I thought they were intentionally being shite, you know, in an ironic kind of way. Low and behold, it was just a legitimately horrific movie. In fact, it makes every cheesy Dolph Lungren, Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal movie look like a the love child of Darren Aronofsky and Stanley Kubrick.

Every element of the story has more holes in it than a six year old boy who got caught in a gang related drive-by. I would go through all of them but I am scared my fingers might lock up as a result of the strain. There is no justifiable reason to watch this movie lest you intend to use it to weed people out of your life. If you know anyone who has seen this movie and thinks that, as a serious action movie, it rocked their socks off; then do me and the entire human race a kind favour and stab them in their reproductive organs for we cannot let them breed. In dare say we need to take a more militant stand against this film, and others of its kin. If you see it on any person’s computer, delete it. If you see it at a DVD Rental establishment, burn down the building (what, they have insurance). I don’t know how clearer I can be about the awfulness of this movie. If people start watching this movie just to see if it is as bad as I say it is then I may have to plunge upon my sword and plead that the world may forgive me my transgression.

It’s kind of A Funny Story

Depressed teenager thinks about killing himself, pleads for help at the hospital, gets admitted, spends a 5 days in the adult psyche ward, learns about love, life, confidence, self-efficacy, honesty and himself. Despite my lukewarm love affair with Zack Galifianakis, ever since he admitted to pissing on Tony Danza’s star, I still was not sure if I was going to enjoy this movie. In fact I was certain that I was either going to find the film to be a witty and insightful look at the under explored topic of white suburban smart kid depression, or it was going to resemble the sensation of sliding down a fifty foot cheese grater nude. Despite the many graphic euphemisms I had at hand to slate this movie, fundamentally it was well written, well directed, with great performances and insightful editing. Honestly, many of the movies I have seen recently were in dire need of a far less inhibited editor with bigger secateurs and deeper vision. In fact, I recommend this movie, even more so than Chumscrubber, a movie that tackles the same issue, more or less, but with more existential obscurity.

Now the problems, well actually just the one, simply because the fact that Emma Roberts with self-inflicted facial scars is insanely hot trumps any petty gripe I may harbor against this film. It has an optimistic tone, as though life gets better. It tells the audience that when you know who you want to be, how you want to live, and have someone to love, life gets better. The unfortunate truth is that things don’t work like that. As a person who suffers from the dreaded depression, the great suburban disease of the mind, being depressed is easy, its believing you can be happy that is hardest of all. When the weight of the world ties you beneath your sheets and the beckoning hand of Morpheus draws you away from the bitter light and inevitable failure, the comfort comes in the totality of that feeling. The hatred of self becomes the safest place to reside as it justifies all the suffering you believe you’ve cause yourself and those around you. It becomes a poisonous and paralyzing Catch 22 in which you see yourself as the cause of all your suffering, which prevents you from acting which causes you suffering and in turn you become the reason for the troubles in your life. The movie was accurate in showing how space away from one’s routine and relations can provide a therapeutic change is perspective. Getting distance from one’s own line of sight can do wonders for those who dare to look at life differently. Often we are simply too invested in the fear that paralysis us to consider an alternative.

Now let’s say you have gained this new perspective, you have decided to live mindfully and engage a self that you believe will bring you greater joy, happiness and fulfillment. This journey is far more difficult, and at times painful, than the catatonic numbness that came before it. This may come across as defeatist, but it is not. In the end of the movie, it portrays the insight and joys as a lightness that shifts his perception of his future. It can very much be like that. The moments of light that claw themselves through the overgrowth can burn the away the shadows with the type of glory you could not have conceived of in your deepest realm of escapism. No hardship of the heart compares to those moments, and if his new love’s self-harming behavior is the result of Borderline Personality Disorder, then he is in for quite a few hardships. I know from experience. Even if the world lays a path of gold before you, when your hands have been scared by your own inaction, they struggle to grasp the slightest of joys. I must go now; a flicker of light seems to be in front of me. If I do not reach out to it now I may lose this chance as well.

Red Riding Hood 2011

Honestly I expected this movie to be Twilight without vampires. I was not disappointed. The main love interest could not have looked more like a wolfy Edward if he tried. And it had the same actor for the lead lady’s father, just in case the transition felt a bit strained. What is this I see before me, a love triangle? Now that’s keeping things fresh. Is the guy you want who makes your panties moist the dark and mysterious guy and not the nice guy, I did not see that one coming. At least in this movie, unlike in the grotesque piece of fiction called Twilight and its ill begotten brood, the connection between the two lovers makes sense. A lifelong secret romance is far more feasible that locking eyes from across the dining hall and having a crisis in your undergarments. However the character of “unmistakable smell” makes an appearance for the sake of hardcore fan service. Darn it, I’m evening listening to Florence and the Machine while writing this, for continuity.

Now let us judge this movie on its own merits. It’s pretty, I must give it that, but the trailer did make it look prettier than it really is. The movie does provide ample opportunities for you and your friends to argue mid stream who is the big bad and scary in the village, unless you’re the type of movie Nazi who jabs people just for coughing during a ‘cinematic experience’. The interpersonal drama is quite intoxicating and I found myself re-speculating on the identity of the wolf as new information came to light. And the wolf looks cool. I thought I would just put it out there. Normally I run towards the spoilers like a fat diabetic runs after a chocolate covered super model, but this is an ending I rather feel needs to be preserved. In this movie, like most I have come to watch, I ended up rooting for the bad guy, in this case the wolf. Mostly because I always like the big bad wolf, he’s just doing what wolves do, but mainly because the guy playing the helpful witch burner is very creepy, and has been in almost all the movies he’s ever been in (eg The Fifth Element and The Professional). Besides, who can identify with a guy who puts an autistic kid in a steel elephant and cooks him? Except you, freak. What are you even doing reading this review, aren’t you meant to be trolling 4chan or something. Rule 24 me, I dare you. Where was I, reviewing the movie, that’s right. If you like the twilight ‘saga’ *gag* then give this a gander with some tissues and about a liter of lube. If, however you have taste and agree that sparkling vampires are nothing more than places to warm your boots, then I suggest watching this movie as a drinking game. Every time you guess who the wolf is you consume and add to the cup. The person who guesses correctly gets to nominate who has the unfortunate duty of downing the putrid elixir. This will make the movie far more harrowing and I can guarantee that never before will such mutual civility be witnessed amongst friends. If only they drank in the Middle East, this would solve everything. I realise that I have started becoming offensive without appropriate focus so I think it is best that end this review right….here.


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