Movies ate my brain

Carol Anne!

2009-02-21T21:27:00.004Z

If you haven't seen POLTERGEIST III (the worst of all the Poltergeist series) here's a summary:

Brilliant

2009-02-14T10:26:00.000Z

Christian Bale-istic

2009-02-03T12:00:00.002Z

Don't you just hate when a DP walks onto the set mid-scene.

I know I do.

And I know some else who does too...

This just in... it's official...

2009-02-01T18:37:00.008Z

I am dangerously insane

2009-01-31T09:07:00.000Z

My genitals are... unavailable. Get outta here!

More genius from Microsoft

2009-01-17T11:46:00.005Z

What a happy home we'll have with every word in rhyme?

No, that would be insane.

Like the idea of grown-ups using this product, Microsoft products being easy to use, glow in the dark towels and the possibility that whoever made this is still employed.

Apple's parry and riposte

2008-10-21T11:15:00.003+01:00

Aimed squarely at the 300 million dollar price-tag of Microsoft's laboured retort.

Quicker, harsher, cheaper and minus the Dying Polar Bears® and African School Kids®.

Gold star, now get on with your fucking work Mac & PC and stop bitching at each other, we all know PCs are shit.

I'm a PC and it takes me two years to think of an obvious comeback.

2008-10-13T15:26:00.020+01:00

Because most people aren't Oscar Wilde they don't often think of perfectly witty, piercing retorts until the day after an argument.

Sometimes it's up to a week later. It will be in a pub or in the shower or somewhere random. They'll be involuntarily re-playing a bit of an argument or difficult conversation then... BAMMFFFGH!

Suddenly there it is, a slow wet fart of inspiration, four days too late.

Maybe they'll subtly weave the remark into a future re-telling of the incident. That way they will appear sharper, wittier and more like Oscar Wilde. More often than not though they'll just slap their thick skulled forehead and curse their porridge brains saying "Durr, I wish I'd said that." or "Hmpfh, yeah that would have shown them."

Clearly to return to the person with whom the original argument took place and shout out the "witty clever comeback" right in their bemused face would be ludicrous. Even to do it a few hours later would be considered borderline care in the community.

The moment has passed, the context is lost and with it the opportunity of a verbal parry and riposte.

So then - how fucked in the head would you have to be to spend two years thinking of a "witty clever comeback" then shout it in someone's face via a 300 million dollar TV and internet campaign?

Well then you'd be Microsoft.

Had this appeared the week after the original Apple adverts then fine, OK. A month, maybe. But two years? Fuck off Bill.

This is the age of web 4.0 or whatever fucking version it's on. People expect a witty, surprising and instantaneous response. On a twittered feed from an GPS tracked google mapped experimental satellite phone-cum-sandwich toaster.

They expect it twice as much when it's a "cutting edge" computer company. Instead they get a postal chess, feel-good, PC friendly equivalent of a four-year-old saying "I know you are but what am I."

Also the inclusion of Dying Polar Bears® and African School Kids® makes me want to sick into my TV.

Taken (2008)

2008-10-09T16:27:00.013+01:00

Cue deep menacing voiceover. They have taken his daughter. He will hunt them. He will find them. And he will kill them. Liam Neeson is… HARD AS FUCK.

What do you get if take Commando put it through the Bourne filter, swap the one liners for xenophobia and replace Arnie with a ruthless and deadly Liam Neeson? TAKEN is what you get and, despite the dubious racial stereotyping and crazy logic, it's a bit of a guilty pleasure.

Neeson is retired CIA "preventer" Bryan Mills. It's never really elaborated on as to what he prevented at the CIA but for the duration of the movie what he prevents is Filthy Foreign Fucks™ from breathing anymore.

Because in TAKEN every foreigner is filthy and a fuck. So Bryan preventalises them.

Before that happens though there is some exposition in which we find out the following; Bryan Mills is separated from his wife, he doesn't see his daughter Kim very often, this is due to his overprotective paranoid nature - which is a by-product of his job. Bryan has quit his job to try and re-kindle a relationship with Kim and make up for all those lost years.

Poor old Bryan gives Kim a much researched karaoke machine for her 17th birthday. His reward? Being berated by his bitchy ex-wife then trumped seconds later by Kim's new millionaire step-dad. He trots out a thoroughbred race horse. Made of gold. That shits puppies made of rose petals. Who laugh diamonds when you cuddle them.

Bryan feels small.

Kim feels nothing because she is spoilt and has a bubble for a head.

When Bryan isn't feeling small, making awkward efforts to reconnect or being bollocked by his ex-wife, he is having boozy BBQs with other CIA preventers. He chats about how much fun it was back in the good old preventing days. He even moonlights as a bodyguard for Holly Valance a multi-platinum selling pop diva - imaginatively named "Diva".

All this is just a lead up to Kim asking if she can go to Paris for the summer. Bryan doesn't like that. Bryan is paranoid and over-protective, remember? His job made him that way.

Paris isn't America. It's Foreign. You know what Foreign places are full of? Huh? Well? Do you?

Culture? Friends you haven't met yet? Local ethnic "colour"?

No!

Danger! Danger and Filthy Foreign Fucks™.

After a few tears and a little strop Bryan sees a chance to get the crumb of affection he craves. He decides to snatch it, which coincidentally is exactly what some Filthy Foreign Fucks™ do when they see his daughter.

Despite finding out at the last minute Kim is not staying in Paris but gallivanting around Europe following U2 (reason enough not to let her go anywhere ever again) Bryan lets her go, mainly because his ex-wife has another go at him "Let her live Bryan or you'll lose her".

Fine, fine. She can go. She can go to deadly Europe. If you think Foreign places are so fucking safe she can go. So off she goes with her jabbering, blonde friend Amanda.

Fresh out of Charles de Gaulle airport the pert young yanks are approached by Peter the Friendly Foreigner™.

"Eeeyyy bonjour pretty lay-deez, eet eez so ex-pon-seeve for the taxi 'ere. Maybe we can, ow you say, share eet."

Idiots. There is no such thing as a Friendly Foreigner™.

Friendly Foreigners™ are just Filthy Foreign Fucks™ in disguise. Soon Blondie McGullible-Easy-Lay is giving away their address and the fact they are all alone and pretty much everything else except her ass - which she plans on giving to Peter at a party later that night.

Of course the party never happens because, on Peter's orders, a whole bunch of FFFs barge into Amanda's luxury pad and snatch her. Kim hides under a bed and gets a last desperate call to Dad, who records it with his super-spy-kit. Then, as the title suggests, she is TAKEN.

Bryan briefly talks to the kidnappers - give her back or I'll find you and I'll kill you. "Good luck" they say.

But Bryan doesn't need luck because he's an American. According to his CIA mates he has 96 hours before Kim becomes an untraceable drug addled cum sock for the FFFs. Goddam it he'll find her, even if he has to kill every foreigner in Paris.

You can't help being a hundred percent behind Bryan. He seems so be so starved of affection that he'd probably take out half an army just have lunch with his daughter. At last he finally has a way to prove his love and win some affection by doing what he does best.

Killing dirty, evil, twisted, dangerous, perverted foreigners.

The next 80 minutes is a non-stop barrage of fist meets foreigner as Bryan goes above the law and obliterates everything and everyone who is even vaguely non-American. He's every foreigners worst nightmare.

Neeson is strangely compelling, no matter how ridiculous the dialouge or situation, no matter how warped the logic Neeson approaches the whole thing if his life depended on it. Because of this you believe him, he hypnotises you into ignoring the ludicrous plot progression and xenophobia.

It helps that he's also unexpectedly hard. He gouges eyes, throttles and chops windpipes, kicks knees out, snaps arms and necks and legs, he stabs foreigners, he electrocutes foreigners, he makes foreigners jump off bridges and get hit by trucks, he shoots a shitload of foreigners, he makes foreigners explode, he makes foreigners crash into diggers and crush their heads, he pushes foreigners through windows.

He kills a lot of foreigners. And they deserve it.

He only pauses to catch his breath while torturing foreigners to figure out which foreigner to kill next. Or to occasionally shoot foreign family members of ex-foreign friends who turn out to be untrustworthy FFFs after all.

Incidentally despite the overwhelming calls to "FEAR THE FOREIGNER" this film isn't even an American film. It's French written and directed by Luc Besson and Pierre Morel, making it a masterpiece of cynical marketing. However Besson did have some help form Karate Kid writer Robert Mark Kamen. Which probably explains why it feels like an 80's actioner wearing the serious "I'm real-world" muted tones and quick edits of 2008.

It's wrong but it feels so right and Neeson absolutely kicks arse in no uncertain terms.

WARNING INVISI-TEXT ENDING SPOILER:

Considering that Kim has been kidnapped, kept sedated with heroin for three days, "examined" by FFF "doctors" to confirm her virginity, had her friend choke on death on her own vomit due to an overdose and been sold to a yet another Filthy Foreigner (this time an Arabian Jabba) for virgin white girl fuck fun - aboard the good ship Islamic Jihad Martyrs Paradise - you'd think she'd act a teensy bit more subdued on arriving home.

Instead she runs about like a giggly Scarecrow back from a day at Alton Towers. Though frankly that's the least of your worries as far believability goes.

If your ex-husband had been on a three day foreign kill-a-thon to save your daughters life and mimsy would you make him get a cab home?

Nevermind the sell-out here's a hypocritical fuckwit

2008-10-05T18:57:00.014+01:00

I've always thought John Lydon's brand of boggle-eyed faintly campy accented 'anarchy' was fucking shit. It might have been shocking once to say bastard and piss on telly but more often than not he comes off as a Viz character that didn't make the cut.

Oooh he's so mental what will he say next? Well probably something about the monarchy being cunts or wanting to spit on pensioners. Or some other predictably piss-poor attempt to shock the five people who still buy The Express and think about the monarchy more than once a year.

But this? Yes for the first time he's genuinely shocked me by sinking to hitherto unplumbed depths of hypocrisy. Well done you pointless shitbasket.

Proof if ever proof was needed that sooner or later "anarchy" becomes "cup o' tea" for all of us.

As for the ad in general, selling a product on the strength of a subjective opinion from a laughable washed-up hypocrite sell-out is surely grounds for dismissal.

You think "It tastes the best?" So fucking what? Why would I value your opinion on anything? You may as well have an anonymous drunk tramp advertising your product "I like jaffa cakes coz dey… er dey… tastes BESTUST. Yeah?".

Killer strategy you wankers. Read this, take a step back and fuck yourselves right in the face.

The best adverts ever?

2008-09-26T15:12:00.003+01:00

Yes, these are easily the best adverts ever. In the world.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008)

2008-09-15T01:32:00.019+01:00

Lock up your childhoods because everyone's favourite no-neck memory molester is at it again.

Georgie's back to sign away his dignity on the latest subtraction from the STAR WARS saga - a flashing fuck-brained ker-ching factory for kids called The Clone Wars.

Frankly I'm at a loss where to begin so I'll start at the beginnning. Actually first I'll start twenty five years before the beginning.

It's 1983, I'm six years old, my school friend are I are staring at a penny sitting motionless on our desk. We are taking it in turns to move the penny across the desk using only 'the force'. So far no luck.

To us 'the force' seemed like something magical but obtainable. As long as you tried hard enough and try we did, often till were blue in the face.

The Clone Wars were a still mysterious period in Star Wars history, the scale and scope of which was defined only by our imagination. General Kenobi fought in them alongside a young Anakin Skywalker, the best star-pilot in the galaxy and a cunning warrior.

Maybe they were so mental you couldn't even show it in a film. Whatever they were they sounded weird and fucking amazing.

The Force, The Jedi, The Sith even the Senate - they were all nebulous notions that our fevered little imaginations could populate for ourselves. Meanwhile the last Star Wars film 'Return of the Jedi' was coming out soon and we had yet to discover the coolness of speederbike troopers and Leia's slave girl outfit. Life and Star Wars was pretty cool.

Flash forward to 2008 where many of lifes illusions have been shattered including the following: The force has nothing to do with effort, you're either born with a load of midichlorians or you're not. The Jedi are actually a bit boring, the Sith are just plain confusing, Darth Vader is an annoying moppet called Annie or a wooden mumbling sulk and the Clone Wars are a kid friendly cgi adventure sandwiched pointlessly between two disappointing films.

Still at the very least we have the concrete reliable aspects of Star Wars. The anchor points. The things that you'd never change.

Never. No matter what.

Things like the 20th century Fox logo and the silent anticipation that accompanies the blue words "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...." followed by a blast of the theme music and the iconic yellow text crawl over a starscape.

You'd never, ever change that right?

We've still got that. Right George?

No. No we fucking don't because he's even fucked that up the stupid quiffed cunt. So what do we have instead?

Well first a Warner Brothers logo, which felt odd but not much you can do about that. Then the pause, the blue text and... a wet fart 'remix' of the fucking theme music.

The Star Wars fucking theme music. One of the most recognised themes of all time - which George owns the fucking rights to has been replaced by a shitty sub-bontempi organ version which doesn't even play over an opening crawl of text.

The crawl has inexplicably been replaced by a montage of scenes narrated by an incongruous fast-talking 1930's newscaster.

I know this will sound ridiculous because there are so many other bigger problems here (so, so many) but that pause with the blue text followed by the theme blast IS Star Wars for me.

It's the switch that flips me from real world into the Star Wars universe. It's like a release lever on your imagination, just the right amount of anticipation before a floodgate of memories opens.

But instead I got this, and all it did was open the shit pipe.

It's like expecting an orgasm but doing a shit instead. Out of your mouth.

You're thinking "Oh no, oh God no! What's happening?" But you just keep curling out a big mouth log and frantically wondering why the person you were having sex with is morphing into a big dummy made of shit. On a stinking runny shit bed. In a house made of melting shit.

Less than two minutes in, I was already feeling a bit disappointed, it was mostly downhill from there.

The animation style works well for the wide variety of robots and vehicles, making them look impressively weighty and mechanical. Unfortunately it has the same effect for all the characters. And despite thinking George couldn't get any more wooden than the prequels he continues to amaze - this time developing an aesthetic whereby the characters heads actually appear to be carved from tree stumps.

The soundtrack continues to disappoint ranging from sound library 'moody atmospheric' to some kind of 'funk-fusion' as George replaces Jar-Jar with Wah-Wah.

It's shocking how much John Williams is missed.

But what is more shocking is the decision to replace him with Kevin fucking Kiner who provided the scores for Walker Texas Ranger, 97 episodes of CSI Miami and the unforgettable Excessive Force II: Force on Force.

Even more ludicrous is the plot, revolving mostly around the kidnap and rescue of Jabba the Hutt's son, wait for it, Rotta the Huttlet. He must be retrieved by the Jedi to allow them access to the Hutt run trade routes to the outer rim... ahem.

Anyways before everything really kicks off we open with a big battle scene and the introduction of a new character in the shape of Anakins padawan Ashoka.

Even that collection of words sounds painful, like a Taiwanese 4x4, the Padawan Ashoka just £3,995 on the road.

Ashoka is one sassy teen Torgruta, oh boy. She's all street smarts, quick quips and nicknames. None of which seem to gel with the Star Wars Universe. She proceeds to call Anakin 'Sky-Guy' for the rest of the film.

'Sky-Guy'?

No wonder he flipped out and started killing everyone - Annie? Fucking Sky-Guy? The real young Vader would have pulled a force-choke faster than you can say "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Instead he resorts to calling her 'Snips'.

I half expected him to snap his fingers and say "Mhummmm Girrrrrl-freeeeeeend, you got it goin' oooowwwww-nnaaahhh" after they dispatched some separatist droids.

On the subject of droids, the 'comedy' talking variety make a comeback here, another case of George removing any mystery or indeed logic.

In the originals some droids spoke English others in bleeps and some even in alien dialects. Like the eyeball thing at Jabbas Palace gate that says what sounds like "Bechoo a-blinkee" in Huttese - you know he is saying "Who are you?" because of the response he gets.

Imagine how shit it would have been if that eyeball had popped out and said "OOoooh, whoooOoo are yoooOOOoo?" in a kind of camp disneyfied robot voice. It wouldn't have stuck in my mind for 25 years. Well maybe it would have but for all the wrong reasons.

Why the fuck would battle droids talk? Shouldn't they be wirelessly connected and co-ordinated? Isn't that the point of a robot army? I'd accept some bleeps and stuff for effect or even a special robot language that we come to understand throughout the films but why would they vocally give each other orders and then say "Roger Roger!" to confirm it?

At one point two robots are sharing one set of binoculars, come on George they're fucking robots they should have binoculars for eyes you stupid beardy bastard.

After a little fight over the binoculars (honestly), one of them gets the co-ordinates wrong "Enemy approaching from sector 44.73.02, no erm 44.73 erm 12, 05 I dunno".

What?! For fucks sake the point of robots is that they make stuff easier not fucking harder.

Hey, hey guys! I've made a confused short sighted battle droid that you can knock out with one punch. Look he's got matchstick arms and matchstick legs and no controls or connectivity - hahah he's great - although if there was more than one all the orders would have to be given vocally and independently to each robot.

Shit wow! Roll out a couple of thou and we'll take over the galaxy, not.

Anyway once we're saddled with Ashoka and the opening battle scene is done it's time to start the story proper, get off into space and head on over to... another battle scene. Having said that, it is the films only genuinely inventive segment.

Sky-Guy and Snips lead an assault on an occupied monastery perched atop of a gargantuan pillar of rock. Starting on the horizontal plane the action soon switches to vertical as the proto-AT-ATs slowly climb the pillar toward their goal. This is where the animation style really shines and at least this scene holds your attention, but it's scant reward for what awaits at the top.

Our heroes discover Rotta who basically looks like a fist sized bowel movement with googgly muppet eyes. He gurgles and farts and Snips drops another head-smackingly shit nickname - 'Stinky'.

The remaining plot basically involves Count Dooku (awooga! fucking stupid name alert) trying to convince Jabba that it was the Jedi who kidnapped his son. Meanwhile the Jedi, with the aid of Padmé, try to convince Jabba that it was in fact separatists.

Sam Jackson crops up as Mace Windu at one point but he's so bland and bald that my eyes and ears slid off him, Yoda says some backward bullshit, Anakin and Dooku have an ineffectual half-duel and the conclusion is inconclusive because the whole thing is just a pilot for a TV show.

Which leads to another massive problem with sandwiching the whole ill conceived proceedings between two prequels. You know exactly who is going to live and die, which pretty much robs the film and the upcoming series of any threat or tension. New characters will presumably die or disappear and nothing serious will happen to anyone else so what's the point?

Will SkyGuy, Snips and Stinky will get back to Tatooine and sort it all out? Does it matter? Does anyone care?

Going in I finally realised what the my major problem is with the prequels. It's that George has taken away all the mystery that I had sub-conciously coloured in over the last 25 years. He took it away and replaced it with disappointing bland bullshit.

Prior to this everyone had their own ideas of how things worked in the blurry historical edges of Star Wars and that let them have ownership to some extent.

I can't help thinking of the saying 'magic is only magic till you know how it's done' George keeps showing us what's behind the original magic and each time he does it all gets a lot less magical.

Everyone has their own Star Wars but it turns out that the one Star Wars nobody really wants is George's Star Wars. The only mystery remaining is why George bothers churning out this lazy lacklustre shit anymore.

The most dissapointing Star Wars yet. Disappointing is too small a word really.

Three words George.

Do. Something. New.

Football + Ballet = Shit²

2008-09-13T13:05:00.015+01:00

With "The Beautiful Game" English National Ballet and the New Football Pools have decided it's a good idea to recreate ten great footballing moments through the medium of dance.

They are wrong.

In the video above Jenna Lee says "At first we weren't sure it would work because, football and ballet, you don't put them in the same sentance"

Wrong again.

Shostokovitch said "Football is the ballet of the masses".

Back in 1930 the 23-year-old Dimitri Shostokovitch composed music for a football based ballet "The Golden Age". The story revolved around a Russian football team visiting the imaginary 'U-Town' in Europe for an Olympic style event. The story eventually demonstrated pure, young Soviets overcoming the temptations of the decadent West.

Amusingly despite being a rabid football fan Shostokovitch was also a pessimist and would regularly bet against his own team.

So Jenna, you would put football and ballet in the same sentence if you were talking about a famous ballet featuring football that's been around for over 70 years. Or alternatively you could put them in a sentence like this:

That new ENB football ballet looks fucking shit.

Apart from the fact that they are both shit and involve effeminate men feigning distress I don't know much about ballet or football. But isn't ballet supposed to be synchronised to some extent? They look all over the place, the keepy-uppy and never walk alone clips are especially cringeworthy.

Matthew Mctwattyhey.

2008-08-25T04:56:00.017+01:00

I was in HMV on the weekend buying the first two seasons of THE WIRE when I saw this double pack...

Does he have it in his contract that he has to lean at thirty fucking degrees in everything? Why is he always leaning on blondes? Why has he always got his hands in his pockets?

Why is he such a casual, carefree, confuddling twat? I bet the stylist got fired for fastening his jacket in the second one.

"I'm casual - you've fastened my fucking jacket you r-tard, thirty degrees doesn't look casual with a fastened fucking jacket DOES IT?!! Well?! You're fucking fired."

In the Failure to Launch poster he's rocking on his heels which makes him look some kind of novelty crate trolley.

Maybe SJP should hammer some wheels through his ankles and use him to carry wheel around heavy objects, like her saddle and horse shoes for when she needs to be rode in a gymkhana....

Travellin' Troubles

2008-08-25T04:04:00.023+01:00

What with all the excitement of batday I never got round to writing this little incident up, however a close friend of mine has demanded it following my colourful description, so here goes.

First a bit of context. This all happened on the same day as batday, after watching it on IMAX in the afternoon I was heading back to my parents home for the wedding of an old friend.

The train journey is about three hours, but since I was still in shock from batday I wasn't that bothered. Plus I was also starting a week long holiday which made for an unusually tolerant mood.

Now this tale probably works best if you imagine it as an early Laurel & Hardy silent two-reeler.

But with no Stan Laurel and me playing Oliver Hardy.

So... I get on the train to find a bloke in my seat at the table. But no problem, even though his mate is also sitting opposite , there was still two free seats at the table so I stowed my bag in the rack.

From now on imagine I'm Oliver Hardy complete with bowler hat and tie, everything is black and white, looks a bit crackly and any dialouge is communicated via elaborate black screen cards bearing white script - like a silent movie.

I promise, all of this happened...

IRIS IN:

1. INT: TRAIN – MEDIUM SHOT - FROM OPPOSITE TABLE

Bag safely stowed, OLLIE sits down in the aisle seat placing a book on the table. Opposite him sits a guy with a shaved head. In the window seat next to OLLIE is the sruffy looking friend of the bald guy.

As he smoothes down his jacket the fellow opposite says…

BALDY

"Hello."

OLLIE gives a nod and a smile…

OLLIE

"Hello."

The guy next to OLLIE turns to address him…

SCRUFFY

"Hello.”

OLLIE raises his hat and we get another cheery…

OLLIE

"Hello."

As the train begins to pull out of the station OLLIE settles back and opens his book.

2. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFFY

The guy next to OLLIE says…

SCRUFFY

"We're returning from India."

OLLIE responds with raised eyebrows and a silent "oh".

The guy continues by wiggling two fingers…

SCRUFFY

"We've been travelling for two days.”

3. INT: TRAIN – MEDIUM SHOT - FROM OPPOSITE TABLE

The fellow opposite starts to stretch and settle back…

4. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – BALD FELLOW/EMPTY SEAT

…he yawns dramatically and says…

BALDY

"We'll probably be asleep before the next stop"

5. INT: TRAIN – MEDIUM SHOT - FROM OPPOSITE TABLE

OLLIE couldn't give a fuck what they do but he gives them a jovial smile and points to his book saying…

OLLIE

"Don’t worry, I brought a book"

They all laugh.

A watch face is superimposed over the scene and we see 30 minutes tick by at high speed.

Scenery whips past the windows, OLLIE reads his book and gradually the travellers fall asleep.

6. INT: VIEW DOWN THE AISLE

A builder enters the carriage and stows his work bag above the table before taking the remaining seat.

7. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFFY

OLLIE is engrossed in his book running the gamut of facial expressions. He finishes with a satisfied little chuckle that wobbles his hat.

He continues to read becoming increasingly absorbed in the book until…

SCRUFFY

"Zzzzzz."

OLLIE bunches up his shoulders as if someone is drilling next to his head.

He slowly swivels to look at the guy next to him.

SCRUFFY pantomimes another loud snore against the window.

8. INT: TRAIN – CLOSE UP - OLLIE

OLLIE looks to camera briefly then back down to continue reading his book.

Almost as soon as he does SCRUFFY's head flops into frame and onto OLLIE’s shoulder – he is still fast asleep.

OLLIE’s eyes slowly roll back up to look straight into camera, we get two or three blinks.

OLLIE glances at the traveller, sighs and then turns back to his book.

Pause just long enough for OLLIE to look like he’s enjoying his book again before cutting to…

SCRUFFY

"Zzzzzzzz."

Cut back to OLLIE looking miserably straight into camera.

He is drumming his fingers on the table; the traveller is snoring directly into his left ear.

9. INT: TRAIN – MEDIUM SHOT - FROM OPPOSITE TABLE

OLLIE looks at the BUILDER opposite and says…

OLLIE

“What next?"

The BUILDER chuckles.

7. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFFY

SCRUFFY stirs, sitting up slightly, he yawns and stretches his arms wide.

OLLIE leans forward with relief, fiddles with his jacket lapels and re-opens his book with a smile.

Just as he settles back - the travellers head flops back to OLLIE’s shoulder, his right arm in mid-stretch is now around OLLIE’s back.

He has a sleepy, dopey grin.

8. INT: TRAIN – CLOSE UP – BUILDER

The BUILDER is laughing.

9. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFFY

OLLIE looks at the traveller’s hand hugging his right shoulder - emits a theatrical sigh, slumps his shoulders and looks exasperated.

He turns to the traveller and gently tries to move away by very slowly leaning toward the aisle.

The traveller responds by sleepily bringing his other arm up to fully hug OLLIE.

10. INT: TRAIN – CLOSE UP – BUILDER

The BUILDER is pissing himself laughing by now.

11. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFF

OLLIE freezes, momentarily in a bizarre clinch with the grinning, snoozing traveller resting on his chest. He’s looking desperately 3/4 off camera with eyebrows raised.

OLLIE slams his book shut.

In a flurry the traveller wakes up, realises who he’s cuddling and quickly tips back the other way before falling asleep against the window.

12. INT: TRAIN – MEDIUM SHOT - FROM OPPOSITE TABLE

OLLIE shakes his head, fiddles with his tie and says to the builder…

OLLIE

“I need a drink.”

IRIS OUT:

IRIS IN:

13. INT: VIEW DOWN THE AISLE

OLLIE returns to the table, he carries a large paper bag containing a hot sandwich, two beers and a bottle of water.

11. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFF

OLLIE puts the bag on the table.

As he sits back down, he takes out a can of beer and cracks it open with a satisfied smile.

The sound wakes SCRUFFY up. He drowsily nods to OLLIE – who nods back.

OLLIE takes a swig of beer.

Meanwhile the sleepy traveller continues nodding, slowly moving his attention toward the bag.

OLLIE smiles back at SCRUFFY, mirroring his nodding as the traveller moves ever closer to the bag.

As he looks away for another sip of his beer OLLIE does a double take. The traveller has opened OLLIE's sandwich and is cheerfully munching away.

OLLIE watches in disbelief as he eats the whole thing.

SCRUFFY offers him another sleepy smile in return and slumps back to sleep against the window.

OLLIE looks from the traveller to his beer then shakes his head and chugs what is left of the can.

12. INT: TRAIN – MEDIUM SHOT - FROM OPPOSITE TABLE

The builder is slapping his leg and roaring with laughter.

OLLIE reaches into the bag.

11. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFF

Giving the sleepy SCRUFFY a dirty look he opens his second can of beer.

Again this wakes up SCUFFY who slowly makes his way back to the bag.

OLLIE watches in disbelief as he starts to rifle through it again, this time picking out the water.

OLLIE looks even more baffled than before but this time he grabs the bottom of the water and says…

OLLIE

“That’s mine.”

SCRUFFY smiles sleepily. He releases the water and falls back to sleep against the window.

OLLIE shakes his head and puts the water back on the table. No sooner does he take another swig of beer than SCRUFFY is up and making for the water again. OLLIE grabs it before he can get there and says…

OLLIE

“Yeah, it’s still mine!”

SCRUFFY stares at OLLIE for a while before dreamily asking…

SCRUFFY

“Can I have it?”

OLLIE stares at him and emphatically says…

OLLIE

“No! You can't have it.”

SCRUFFY sulkily flops back to sleep and OLLIE puts the water on the opposite side of the table, out of reach.

11. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – BALDY/BUILDER

The BUILDER is wiping tears away from his cheeks he’s laughing so much.

8. INT: TRAIN – CLOSE UP – OLLIE

OLLIE looks exasperated.

OLLIE

“What is with this guy?”

10. INT: TRAIN – CLOSE UP – BUILDER

The BUILDER is shaking his head and laughing even more than ever, he points to SCRUFFY.

11. INT: TRAIN – TWO SHOT ACROSS TABLE – OLLIE/SCRUFF

SCRUFFY is heading toward the empty bag again.

OLLIE

“Jesus, what are you…

OLLIE doesn’t finish his sentence because SCRUFFY pulls the bag toward him and proceeds to vomit into it relentlessy. He vomits for a good 3 or 4 minutes.

OLLIE looks on in horror, gradually edging out of his seat and into the aisle. When he’s done the large paper bag is full to the brim with stinking bile.

SCRUFFY looks at OLLIE, he looks a dog that has been whipped and left out in the rain.

SCRUFFY

“Sorry.”

OLLIE sighs and even though it clearly isn’t he says…

OLLIE

“That’s OK.”

SCRUFFY looks at his bag full of bubbling sick and says…

SCRUFFY

“I’ll… er… clean this up.”

He stands up and before anyone can stop him he lifts up the bag of sick by its handles.

The wet bag immediately splits along the bottom and two litres of fresh hot stinking puke spills over the table, the chairs and all along the floor.

OLLIE

“For fucks sake.”

Soon everyone in the carriage is desperately looking for things to be sick in as the appalling stench travels through the carriage starting a chain reaction of puke, like in Chunk’s story from Goonies.

13. INT: VIEW DOWN THE AISLE

OLLIE makes a dash for the next carriage before the smell reaches him. We see him comically run away from camera down the aisle, holding his hat onto his head.

IRIS OUT:

THE END

Put it in my eye-mouth while I masticate furiously

2008-08-07T16:56:00.028+01:00

Remember this piece of shit for Trident gum?

It got banned due to complaints of racism. Why racsist? It's just funny isn't it? A white woman shouting masty-cay-shun for de nay-shun in a bad Jamaican accent... comedy gold, surely?

I suppose it was perceived as racist because the humour was derived from a white woman doing a Jamaican accent thereby implying that there is something inherently funny about the way Jamicans talk. And presumably something twice as funny about a white woman doing a funny Jamican accent.

They did another two, one featuring another white guy doing a 'funny' Jamican accent and one which actually featured a ludicrous Jamican behaving like an escapee from Mind Your Language. On speed.

Coincidentally Trident also happens to be the name for London Police division that deals with gun crime in the black community. That's the only funny thing about the ad.

Anyway Trident are back! In your face!

Droping the mastication line they now want to...

MESS WITH YOUR HEAD!

At first glance I thought this girl was winking her swollen black eye, a carefree victim of the casual spousal abuse of the 50's. But since that wouldn't make any fucking sense whatsoever my brain had to try again.

So I looked closer and realised that she actually has an extra mini mouth instead of a left eye.

A mini eye mouth. With lipstick... and mmm-mmm it's licking it's lips in a sexy suggestive manner.

Mess with your head? How? Is there a chemical in trident gum that causes a bizarre strain of prosopagnosia?

Was she born like that or has she transplanted a little mouth into her eye socket? Congratulations Mrs. Kendall the operation was a complete success, it'll be sore for a few weeks so remember to rinse it with mouth wash if you smoke with it.

Why is it licking its lips? What does it eat? If you were going out with her how long would it be before you asked for an eyejob? Want to try it in the mouth eye? I'll mess with your head, uh-uh yeah, wink me off.

Can she breathe through it? Can it whistle? Does it talk? Congrats team Trident you've messed with my head.

I wonder what they'll do next?

Maybe they could have a naked, female, black Jesus crucified on a burning cross made of wheelchairs mounted on a Victorian steam train. She'd have a vagina for a mouth, an erect horses cock for a nose and two sphincters for eyes. And maybe have loads of octopus tentacles instead of legs.

Above her in massive bouncy pink gothic bubble letters it could say NEW STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE FLAVOUR.

The slightly smaller strapline could say CHEW-CHEW, GOD IS DEAD.

WALL-E (2008)

2008-08-05T16:50:00.051+01:00

I thoroughly enjoyed Pixar's new movie and for the most part I thoroughly enjoy every Pixar movie.

Even Cars. And that was just Shoe People on wheels.

Anyway, I just want to make it clear, I like Pixar. A lot.

But.... I do have a one little niggle with Pixar and surely I can't be the only person that has noticed it.

See if you can spot it...

TOY STORY
Wow it's the hidden world of Toys, that's cool. Oh, I see what you've done, they're toys that come to life when there's no-one around, but wait ha ha Buzz doesn't know he's a toy!

Uh Oh, Woody doesn't like being the second best toy, he used to be number one. Oh no! He got rid of Buzz, now Buzz is lost! I hope Woody and the others can somehow team up and find him. Yes! Brilliant! They did! Because when you work together it all works out.

BUGS LIFE
Oho, hello! What's this? The hidden world of Ants and Grasshoppers. It's a play on Aesop, how clever. Oh and I see what you've done, the Grasshoppers are like evil tyrants and the Ants are the peaceful villagers, it's like The Seven Samurai. Even though they have superior numbers the Ants give in, hmmm it's like they've lost their self belief.

Uh Oh, Flik the rebellious Ant doesn't like being told what to do by lazy grasshoppers, he believes in Ants. Oh no! He's gone off alone on a mad quest, I hope he can find someone to team up with him and help the Ants find their self belief. Yes! Oh brilliant they did. Take that grasshoppers! When you work together it all works out.

TOY STORY 2
Wow it's the er, hidden world of Toys. Again.
But wait a minute I thought everything worked out here. Gosh! I hope someone/something isn't going to get lost and need finding.

Uh Oh, Woody got broken and bought by an obsessive toy collector, now he's lost and needs finding. I hope Buzz and the others can team up and find him. Yep... they did, because when you work together it all works out.

MONSTERS INC
Amazing! The hidden world of Monsters. Their world is powered by fear from our world. That's cool. Surely no-one is going to get lost and need rescuing here. I mean they're 10 foot tall, hairy monsters, right?

Well, this time they really go nuts. Either that or there was a mix up in typing because this time... wait for it... they find something and team up to get rid of it! Yeah! Alright, woo! High five! Flip reverse it!

A kid from the real world gets lost in Monster world and found by some Monsters, I did not see that coming. Incredible! I hope they can team up and get rid of her. Yes... they can. Because when you work together you can get rid of things you've found or find things you've lost.

FINDING NEMO
They're not even trying here, the hidden world of talking fish? Are they special fish? Spy fish, robot fish, magic fish? No? Just the talking.

OK, well I'll give it a go. But the title doesn't sound promising.

It almost sounds like something needs to be found by someone. And that usually means it's been lost.

Wait a minute... they haven't done another film where something gets lost and needs finding have they?

It's like they sat round after a crate of brewskis and said "Look maaaan, no-one *hic* noticed the last four times *burrrp* how obvious can we make it and still get away with it? Huh? Put Finding in the title...ha ha... dude you rock that is *hic* insane!"

So Nemo the talking fish gets caught by a diver... oh dear. I... erm... hope... that... he... erm... gets found? Oh look his talking fish Dad has teamed up with another talking fish... and some talking surf dude turtles and a talking pelican. I hope they can work together to find Nemo. Yeah, they can, because when you work together and do something you've done four times before, sometimes it's so obvious that people don't even notice it.

THE INCREDIBLES
Genius! The hidden world of retired super heroes and their dysfunctional families trying to live normal lives.

Uh Oh! Mr. incredible doesn't want to be retired or normal, in fact he wants action and secret missions. Gasp! He's been lured into a trap! On a remote Island. By a super villain!

I wonder if his dysfunctional family can over come their petty infighting and work together to find him and then solve this problem? What do you reckon?

CARS
My least favourite, the shitty hidden world of fucked up talking cars.

With eyes.

A world where no people exist to build them... OK. Where does the petrol come from? Don't get me started.

So... a red car gets lost in a shitty backwater town. Then he teams up with a load of freaky talking shit-mobiles from Shittsville to try and win a big race. With the help of an ex-race champ who found and lost glory.

But the red car gives up first place and loses because he finds the true meaning of friendship or racing or something.

Anyway it works out because he got lost, then found out what racing was about by working together with someone who found then lost past race glory and fame. Finally instead of winning he looses on purpose because of what he has found. It's a loss/find team up festival.

But with shit anthropomorphic cars with eyes. They. Make. No. Sense.

RATOUILLE
A nervous unlucky kid has just lost his mother and, unbeknownst to him, his inheritance of a famous French restaurant. A restaurant he turns up at, asking for a job.

Meanwhile a rat has lost his entire colonies home due to his unusual love of cooking, in particular the cookery of the dead owner of the previously mentioned famous French restaurant.

Oh yeah and the restaurant itself has lost all credibility after its famous owners death.

Now there is no fucking way these two can team up. Right?

But Pixar law dictates that if something is lost it must be found and the only way to find it is by teaming up... so...

By teaming up with a rat he manages to pretend to be a master chef thus finding confidence, finding a new family of sorts and finding his inheritance whilst the rat finds a new home and a place to cook and they both bring back the credibility of the restaurant.

Because when you work together... with a rat... to cook stuff... it all works out.

WALL-E
Humans have killed all plant life and therefore lost Earth due to over consumption and pollution. They blast off to live in space.

WALL-E robots are left behind to clean up Earth, but 700 years later there is only one still functioning and he's a become a bit eccentric, almost human. He's all alone though, so no chance of any teaming up or working together.

Until one day he finds a plant.

Suddenly an EVE probe arrives and, while scanning for organic life, finds both the plant and WALL-E. He promptly falls in love with her and ends up following the probe back her ship. But once they're aboard, a malfunctioning HAL style AI wants to destroy the plant and not notify the humans that Earth can once more support organic life.

The plant gets taken away and WALL-E and EVE get put in a sort of robo-asylum with a load of wacky malfunctioning robots.

Using the clues from the previous eight films, guess what happens next.

Now having said all of that I like Pixar and I loved WALL-E but fuck me, if one more person looses something and has to team up to find it I'll go fucking bug nuts.

I imagine at Pixar they have "Work together and work it out" and "You'll find what you've lost if we look together" screwed on every door, wall and ceiling in large bold gold lettering.

It's probably chiselled in fifty foot high marble letters at the entrance. The centre piece of their landscape garden features six words in complex topiary formed from hundred foot high bushes reading "LOSE IT. TEAM UP. FIND IT"

Anyway, WALL-E looked beautiful, the robot character design throughout was stunning and for the Mac geeks out there there's plenty of little love letters to Apple hidden throughout, most notably with sexy, shiny EVE design.

The stand-out element though is clearly the design and characterisation of WALL-E. It's a truly phenomenal piece of animation. His baby Johnny 5 via ET design genuinely manages to tug the heartstrings in some of the more subtle moments. But I loved just watching him go about his business - to be honest I'd have settled for an hour and a half of him just pottering around. The scene where he gets up for work had me grinning from ear to ear.

The first half of the film is a wonderfully grim, grimy glipse at the future and the score that accompanies this largely silent segment was so right it hurt. Desolate sci-fi scenes of future Earth, flickering billboards, dried seas, piles of WALL-E crushed junk and vehiclular graveyards all rendered with jaw dropping attention to detail. Any lack of dialogue didn't even register because each scene was so deliciously composed and executed. In fact it was more of a positive, part of me wishes they had chanced their arm a bit more and gone for a pure silent movie.

Unfortunately when there are any lengthy scenes featuring humans or when the manic mecha Tom & Jerry chase sequences kick in things started to sag. But there is enough laughs, references, oohs and aahs to weather the storm. The space dance sequence being a particularly pretty piece of pixel pushing.

Alongside the humour and awe inspiring artistry is a pretty mean streak of enviro-based satire. I especially liked the ubiquitous global corporation BUY & LARGE, a fairly blunt attack on super-size consumerism.

The hideously bloated baby people lolling on hover chairs pretty much clubbed the point home. I'd like to say that I didn't like the human scenes because it was so painfully close to the bone. It is but somehow they just annoyed me and had me wondering when the robots were coming back.

Overall it's a deceptively simple yet powerful story that, with minor quibbles aside, is a Pixar high point. Some bits are genuinely sad, some bits are genuinely funny while the remainder is bluntly pessimistic.

There are occasional explosions of activity and sound but for my money WALL-E is at its best when it's quiet. Often transcending previous Pixar output when it's silent.

The fact that they lose something then find it, again, isn't so bad after all. Because it's in the end it's not about losing plant life or even losing Earth.

It's about losing humanity.

The humans in WALL-E have devolved into giant stupid sub-human fatties. Their brains are so fucking dim that they don't know what dancing or farming is. They pootle about and mechanically slurp their liquid meals through a straw, unable to move from their giant floating beds. Shielded from reality and other human contact by a constantly flickering TV screen that gibbers bullshit and adverts while they jabber relentless, meaningless shite into a mobile phone.

They're locked into pointless loops of dumb dull inactivity, their lives are worthless, they aren't humans - they're the robots.

Problem is it won't take us 700 years to get there. We'll be there in 7.

Meanwhile, it is WALL-E that has evolved and become more human than the humans. He is the one you identify with, not the repulsive obese thickos drooling their lives away.

If we have to have another Pixar kids movie about losing something then I can't think of a better thing to warn kids about than losing their humanity through inactivity, lack of education, bullshit mass media, logos, mobile phones and fucking super sized meals.

Shame it's about 10 years too late then.

The Dark Knight (2008)

2008-07-30T19:45:00.015+01:00

As you may or may not know, I was quite excited about this film.

When bat-day finally came last week I went through a bizarre gamut of emotions, I felt like I was going to a wedding, then I went a bit distant, later I felt confused and empty as if I hadn't slept for a week, then I felt like I'd won something amazing but had forgotten what it was.

I think I got so excited that I went beyond excitement, journeying into a numb psychological territory where I felt nothing whatsoever and yet still knew something very big was going to happen. Like Christmas Eve on the on the first year I started to understand what Christmas was.

As we queued to go in I was so worked up I actually said that I felt like I was queuing up to go into space.

I went for a dump before I entered the auditorium purely because, given my unpredictable mental state, I honestly didn't know if the excitement of seeing The Dark Knight being projected at the IMAX would make me literally shit in my pants. Once the movie started, had I needed a piss I think I'd have undone my laces and done it in my shoe rather than leave my seat.

It's not unfair to say that as the Warner Brothers logo faded in and a burning bat-sign fell toward the five storey high screen - my expectations were set pretty high.

Three hours later I was in a worse state coming out than I was going in. We both had to stumble to the nearest pub like glassy-eyed, shell-shocked zombies and order a stiff drink.

Even then I had trouble articulating my thoughts because no matter how high my expectations were set, and they were set ridiculously high, the Dark Knight had managed to surpass them on every level.

There are so many things right with this film that it is almost impossible to know where to start.

One thing you'll notice from almost every review so far is that no-one mentions the plot or structure. Which makes it all the more surprising to discover that this is one of the strongest things about the movie.

It deals with peoples limits, their individual boundaries of right and wrong and what it takes to make those people cross the line.

The Joker incrementally deconstructs all the key players and some of the lesser characters - slowly pushing them toward their individual breaking points. With each anarchic stunt the Joker pulls, he drags them closer toward his own moral abyss until they all teeter on the brink. Then he laughs in their face and pushes them over the edge.

With no need for back story the Joker arrives fully formed and proceeds tear a ragged swath through every scene he's in. The ultimate villain, made fantastically unsettling and unpredictable through grim blend of the sociopathic and psychopathic. But the real icing on the cake, and possibly the reason this is one of the finest Joker interpretations of any medium, is that despite his lunatic appearance and claims that he has no plan, Joker isn't crazy in any gibbering conventional sense. He is a manic genius and he's playing his frightening game six moves ahead of everyone else.

When you have to adhere to the law, even Batmans distilled law of 'anything goes except killing' how do you fight an anonymous, psychopathic, sociopathic genius with no rules and nothing to loose. How do you fight him and not become him?

It's the ultimate summation of who and what the Joker is and it's fucking amazing to see him come to life in all his sickly cruel, grottily intelligent, unhinged beauty.

It's probably worth mentioning the actor behind the make-up at this point, but that's tricky.

You see, other actors in the film are playing parts. Morgan Freeman plays Lucius Fox although really he's just doing his benevolent Morgan Freeman thing. Gary Oldman plays Lieutenant Gordon, he plays him very well... but you still know it's Gary Oldman to some extent. Bale is Bruce Wayne, definitely, but he's also Bale. Micheal Caine is Alfred but if we're honest he's just Michael Caine. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But Heath Ledger? Heath Ledger playing the Joker?

Heath Ledger doesn't play the Joker, Heath Ledger isn't in the movie. The only place Heath Ledger appears is in the credits - this movie stars the Joker, the actual Joker. There is only the Joker onscreen and he's so stunningly, scarily spot-on that by the end of it you're left not only craving more of him but also actively pitying the poor bastard who attempts to follow him. I laughed, I got freaked out and I was even jumpy at points. He didn't so much bullseye the Joker as shoot one arrow at the bullseye then repeatedly fire thinner arrows into that arrow until he split the atom and nuked any other incarnation of the Joker.

Will he get an posthumous oscar?

If it was up to me he'd get a four hundred foot high solid gold illuminated statue of the Joker on Mt. Lee Perch. The letters beneath it that spell HOLLY would be replaced with JOKER because I had JOKERWOOD for 2 and a half hours. I was dizzy leaving the cinema because all the blood had been rushing to my cock for so long. Basically he was very good.

Still no matter how brightly Mr. Ledger burnt, this is still an ensemble piece and everyone plays their part.

Oldman brings a understated vulnerability to Gordon, watch the way he distractedly looks for a chair in Dent's office, almost nervously making himself comfortable, angrily standing up to Harvey's suggestions of corruption "doing the best with what he's got". He's real, he's a fully formed believable character.

Next take a look at Aaron Eckhart, the new cocksure DA, punching out mafia henchmen in a courtroom, supporting Gordons new hardline on organised crime, Gotham's White Knight. Look at his desperation when he sees things sliding out of control, when he realises he can't win, look at his terror, his heartache when he realises the joke's on him. Then look away when you finally see the thing he becomes.

Last but not least - Bale is back in another great performance that reminds me of a William James quote:

"Whenever two people meet, there are really six people present. There is each man as he sees himself, each man as the other person sees him, and each man as he really is."

So it is here, we see Bale play Bruce Wayne as he wants others to see him, we see him play Bruce Wayne as he sees himself when he is around Alfred and Lucius then finally we see Bruce Wayne as he really is, as what he has become, what he must maintain and what he is unable to escape from - the Batman.

Which tallies perfectly with my view of Batman.

I always assumed that once he set the whole Batman thing in motion Bruce Wayne fundamentally ceased to exist except as a figment of Batman's imagination.

It isn't Bruce Wayne who dresses up as Batman, it's Batman who dresses up as Bruce Wayne.

He's just as unhinged as the Joker he just has different goals and rules. One thing I would say is that Batman sounds like he needs some Strepsils but then again if someone dressed like that jumped on you then started beating you up and shouting "Where is he?" in that voice you'd either tell him what you knew or just openly empty your bowels into your trousers. So I suppose it works.

If I had one complaint it’s that I think Maggie Gyllenhaal has a face like a poorly potato and a delivery like my friend’s impression of Samantha from Sex and the City. But really that’s just being churlish because anything that stops Katie Holmes being in movies is a good thing.

Acting aside, all this emphasis on the psychological make-up and fragmentation of the characters must mean that there's no time for action, right?

Wrong!

There are two action sequences in particular that piss in other action films kettles, wait for it to boil and then chuck fresh boiling piss in their stupid less-action-having faces.

One scene, a skydiving/skyhook sequence in Hong Kong had my mouth hanging open like even more of a slack jawed simpleton than usual whilst another, involving the Bat-Pod, made me say "WOO-OOW, FUUUUCKING HELL and HOLY SHIT DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT!" in rapid succession.

There is a bit in the Bat-Pod sequence where Batman does a sort of 'Hoth battle' cable take-down of the Joker's truck, followed by what can only be described as a 180 degree off-the-wall pirouette at sixty miles an hour.

I'm not kidding, I nearly cried. Out of all four of my eyes.

Add to that the opening sequence, the hospital hi-jinks later and the tech mad end scenes and you've got more than enough to chew on between the brainy bits.

As for reports that it's bleak, dark and depressing. Well, the clue is in the title fucko - it's not called BatFun rainbow troubles in crayon land.

Overall the movie takes a lead from Empire in that it pretty much ends with everything being fucked. Corruption is an overwhelming theme throughout.

Are Gordon's men corrupt? Maybe, but what corrupted them? Can Batman be corrupted and forced to break his one rule? Can the most shining example of law and order by dragged down into the depths of depravity? What would it take? Lucius is disgusted by the corruption of his own technology and he too is pushed toward his own moral limit. Even the criminals are double corrupt, turning on each other by the end.

But there is a redeeming feature to be spotted.

You have to look hard for it but it's a pretty relevant one, especially in the sort of climate where the Doomsday clock stands at five to midnight and the UK Terror Threat stands at SEVERE, indicating an attack is 'highly likely'.

The one positive message from the Dark Knight is that while single people can be pushed to into the abyss of chaos or corruption, people united as a group can't - people as a united force can make a choice and make a difference. The only time anything goes right in the movie is when people act together against something they don't agree with rather than simply reacting to the terror or corruption.

Ultimately Batman isn't a superhero. There is nothing super about him. He can't fly or shoot lasers out of his eyes or throw buses at people. He can't bend space and time or control peoples minds.

He's just a symbol. He's also a very rich psychologically damaged individual who got very good at martial arts after he watched his parents get murdered. There's no reason why he couldn't exist in real life, it would be weird - maybe crazy but possible.

It makes sense that the story should be realistic, even downbeat and depressing. That people should let other people down, that they should fall and give up instead of getting up, that they should fail, that things should go wrong and that you should be left thinking "Fuck I wish everything had worked out".

Because guess what? That's fucking life, that's what happens in real fucking life.

At the end of Batman Begins Gordon talks about escalation and that's exactly what The Dark Knight does, it escalates everything. The sense of scale, scope of story, the script, the acting, the actors, the effects, the plot, the vision, the direction and the cinematography are all taken up a notch.

At one point Bale says"Batman has no limits". After the record-breaking opening night, record breaking weekend and record breaking first week I'd say he's right. With this Batman, Nolan has broken free of the constraints of a 'superhero movie' and demolished the 'comic book movie' genre.

I wrote earlier that I always thought that it isn't Bruce Wayne dressing as Batman but Batman dressing as Bruce Wayne. Well this movie can't be pigeon holed or reduced down to something as easy as 'the perfect comic book adaptation' nor is it 'the perfect Batman film'.

It is simply a perfect film, one which happens to feature a man dressed as a bat.

A long shit strapline, please.

2008-07-29T21:37:00.012+01:00

- Hello there creatives! Samsung here, listen guys good news! Our new phone is the official phone of the Olympics.

- Great! How can we help?

- Well you remember that really cool Nike basketball advert from a few years ago, where they make the percussian with the balls?

- Yep that was cool.

- Well we want that. But with all different sports. Even ones that don't work.

- Right. Anything else?

- Yeah... can you make it look like all the sports are happening in different places and they are being somehow transmitted live with video via our phones to a kind of euro-trance DJ who is holding a massive rave by looping and remixing all the elements on the fly using ten more of our phones.

- Er... yeeeeeaaaah, does your phone have video calling?

- Nope.

- Does it have some kind of music loop remix function?

- Nope.

- OK, anything else?

- Yeah can you give it a really long shit strapline that makes no sense. We need to mention the fact that it's a samsung. And the fact it's called tocco. Also can we mention that it's a touchscreen. If you can we need to somehow get across the idea that you can use it to connect to things and people. Can we somehow also mention Olympic spirit? Oh, and definately get something in there about imagination cos that sounds creative. Something that sounds like creativity is coming to life...

- Fuck yeah why not? How about this? When your Samsung Tocco touchscreen mobile connects you to your Olympic spirit imagination lives.

- Brilliant! That is really long, awkward, unwieldy and makes no fucking sense at all it will match our shitty ad perfectly! Take the rest of the day off.

- I'm afraid I can't.

- Why not?

- I've been fired for giving in to clients stupid fucking requests and producing mind numbing shit. I'm about to be taken away and thrown into a giant mincemeat grinder for pointless people. I'll be turned into luxury dogfood. Please send any feedback to Jim, he'll be starting Monday.

- No, probs. Can you make the logo bigger.

- GAaaghh -BBBBBUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ - Arrrrrrghghh - SPLATTER SPLAT SPLAT.

10 reasons why the Dark Knight is going to be fucking amazing

2008-07-18T14:52:00.009+01:00

It's been three years, one month and three days since I first saw the Joker card set-up toward the end of Batman Begins.

And (not that I'm counting the days or anything) in three days time I'll be seeing the pay-off in all it's IMAX glory.

I can't fucking wait.

Till then let's bathe in some of the gentle swell of hype surrounding the greatest movie to be committed to celluloid in this or any other dimension, ever.

So what's so great about it? Well here's 10 things for a start:

1
It's a Batman film. Not just any Batman film though, it's a Chris Nolan Batman film that builds on an already amazing Chris Nolan Batman reboot. Both of which happen to star the excellent Christian Bale.

Now I'm not gay for Bale but I like him.

Generally since the Machinist I'll pretty much watch a movie because Bale is in it. Just to see what he does with the part. I liked him a lot in Batman Begins especially coming off the back of the frightening weight loss of the machinist.

So whatever happens you're pretty much guaranteed a good performance from Bale and a well written (thanks to Chris and Jonathan Nolan) and well directed Batman movie. A movie that should be all the better for being freed up from the constraints of an origin story.

2
The Joker!

Ever since I saw that Joker card I've been looking forward to this sequel. Joker is far and away my favourite villain, but who would Nolan cast as the criminal "with a taste for the theatrical"? Fanboy rumours brewed, lists of dream casting choices emerged on the message boards of geekland.

But you know who wasn't on any of those boards and lists?

Heathcliffe Andrew Ledger.

The blonde guy from A Knights Tale, Four Feathers and The Brothers Grimm? As the Joker?

Not the fans first choice apparently:

"With all of the great choices out there (Leary, Glover, Penn, Brody) they're gonna go with Heath FUCKING Ledger???"

"Ledger would be more miscast than Arnold Scwarzenegger."

"Wrong wrong wrong"

"The guy can't act for shit."

"Bad choice. Hope it's not true."

"Really bad. Ledger is a bit too nice looking for the Joker, isn't he? Are we going to see an annoying 'updated' Joker? Or is Ledger willing to do what it takes to really portray the character?"

Yeah, what? Fucking Ledger? Ppffft! I could but a green wig on my dogs cock and get a better Joker, why must Hollywood continue raping my childhood with this kind of shit. To be honest I was more in the 'wait and see' mob than the 'kill everyone involved' mob.

Soon after the production started rumours were flying about that Heath had drug problems, that his girlfriend had chucked him out, so he was doing even more drugs, and that he was getting 'too into the character of the Joker'.

He does look a bit 'distracted' here though, chilly in there Heath? Or are the cravings starting to bite?

Anyway eventually a picture surfaced of the new Joker. A disturbing Col. Kurtz meets The Cure style Joker. I was pretty excited, as promised Nolan was dragging the comic back into his realistic Gotham. This picture gave the first hint at how a 'real' Joker would be portrayed, I liked it.

The thing I've always thought about the Joker is that he's just a fucking lunatic. The things he does aren't funny, he just does them because they amuse him. I wanted a Joker who cracks babies skulls instead of jokes, a complete psychopath who finds everyone else's values, rules and restraint laughable.

But you should never be laughing - you should feel scared, disgusted and nervous. Maybe a nervous laugh slips out but only because you're in shock and your brain can't deal with what he's doing.

Like in Dark Knight Returns when Joker dresses up an ageing Selina Kyle (Catwoman) as Wonder Woman then beats her senseless, leaving her as a clue for Batman.

Or in The Killing Joke when he 'surprises' Commissioner Gordan's daughter by dropping by unannounced and shooting her through the spine. Then proceeding to strip her naked and take a series of porno snaps while she writhes around in her own blood and he sips wine.

The bullet will put her in a wheel chair for the rest of her life, meanwhile the pictures are enlarged and projected around the walls of an abandoned funfair where her father is forced to look at them while being held prisoner. Naked. In a cage.

That's the Joker I want to see, and it started to look like that's who was heading our way.

Reports said Ledger locked himself away in a hotel room for six weeks to come up with "...the psychology, the voice, the laugh even the walk for the Joker". He read through critical Joker issues of Batman comics including The Killing Joke and Batman #1 (which featured the first appearance of the Joker).

Yeah! Great stuff! More please! Really dig deep!

Then he showed New York Times reporter Sarah Lyall his 'Joker diary'. Filled with important scribblings and clippings he'd pieced together. It contained elements of the Jokers origin as well as writing on things the Joker would find funny, like AIDS.

Yeah Yeah! That's it. Fucking brilliant! He's actually going nuts!

Next came reports that Ledger was exhausted, that his daily performances were gruelling and that he was sleeping less and less. In an interview he was quoted as saying that he was getting about two hours sleep a night and that his mind was racing.

Yeah, woohoo more! I hope it sends him fucking batshit. I hope he actually becomes the Joker and needs locking up in the loony bin!

How much of that was Joker and how much of that was coke or insomnia is another matter. Still, coke, insomnia and method acting your way into the Joker's head would take it's toll on anyone.

But fuck it! Keep going Ledge, I want this to be the best Joker ever - I mean push it, really push it, don't kill yourself obviously...

Oh. Erm.

By now I didn't think anything could happen that would make me want to see this film more than I already did. But I'm ashamed to say that this sent my anticipation through the roof.

I know it's wrong, I know it's ghoulish and I know the whole sorry affair is an absolutely tragic waste of life. But putting that aside, Warner Brothers just got the kind of marketing campaign that money can't buy.

If it was a marketing stunt and he really had 'become the Joker' it would go down in history. Playing on the fact that whenever it seems as though the Joker of the comics is dead they never find a body - Ledger could pop out of a body bag at the premiere in full make-up! Ha ha, what a wheeze! I'm the Joker tee-hee... here's my film.

Sadly that isn't case.

Nevertheless, now I'm twice as eager to see it, especially when you hear people like Michael Caine saying Ledger plays the Joker as "a scary psychopath... so full on that the first time I saw him I forgot my lines".

3
Two-Face! Someone I work with mentioned that their friend was working on Two-Face effects at framestore last year. So now we have two amazing villains and the it sounds like the Joker is only part of the story. Plus since Harvey Dent is in the trailers then we must also get a Two-Face origin story into the bargain.

The rise and fall of Harvey Dent.

How, when and why all this takes place is unknown but it means even more excitement on top of the already unbearable amount of excitement that is bubbling around in my Dark Knight addled brain.

4
Michael Caine, Gary Oldman and Morgan Freeman.

Gah! Excitement!

5
IMAX - certain scenes (including the Jokers intro) were filmed specially for IMAX which is why that's where I'll be when I see it for the first time.

More excitement!

6
This bus shelter advert...

7
This ranking on the IMDB 250 greatest films, of all time...

8
This ranking on Rotten Tomatoes...

9
These quotes from critics...

Nolan has painted a richly vivid landscape of death and iniquity. The view is breathtaking.

The movie isn't just a triumph, it is that rare pop-culture oddity: A masterpiece.

Do not worry about going in with unrealistic expectations. Your expectations pale in comparison with what The Dark Knight is prepared to deliver.

Believe every ounce of the hype surrounding The Dark Knight.

The Godfather II of comic book movies.

Better than Heat, the Godfather and Empire strikes back. Also happens to feature a man dressed as a Bat.

This film is not only one of the year's best; it may well end up as the finest of 2008. At the very least, it deserves consideration for Best Picture and Best Director, along with the expected Oscar kudos for Ledger.

Squaring off the best-ever Batman and the best-ever Joker would've been enough, but director Nolan sticks them inside an ensemble crime saga that should make Scorsese proud.

10
It cures cancer.

Who watches the Watchmen?

2008-07-18T00:30:00.007+01:00

You can, on this tiny trailer:

Looks fucking great.

I didn't think it was possible to get any more excited about the Dark Knight but apparently this trailer runs with it. An exciting cherry on the top of an already pant tentingly exciting bat-shaped cake.

One week till Bat-day, holy shit I couldn't be any more excited if I had the script to the new Quentin Tarantino movie. Which I do - review coming soon, but till then Watch the watchmen and countdown to BAT-DAY. Fucking yeah.

Banged Up

2008-07-08T18:28:00.014+01:00

Channel Five do it again with a new multi-part reality show featuring David Blunkett as a Bizarro World prison based stand-in for Alan Sugar. Already dubbed 'Shame Academy' in the press, Blunkett 'oversees' (ho ho) proceedings - though sadly never gets to point roughly in the young thugs direction and say "You're fucked" before putting them away for life.

In fact there isn't that much threat at all here. Real prison looks shit and I'd hate to be there but ten days in TV jail is a piece of piss. They could have at least made it last a month or two.

Having said that one poor little hardnut from Sunderland did crack under the pressure last night. He had to leave and go home because it was all too much. Edited away from the start of the show it gave the impression they'd maybe been in there a while. Who knows how long?

Locked up in a twelve by five cell. You lose sense of time, the days go on for ever. Nothing to do. You can't breathe, those white walls close in on you. Some panic, lose their mind, others cry themselves to sleep. Some get mad. Mad at the world, mad at themselves - but the walls still close in. Whitewashed witnesses to wasted lives. Or, maybe not.

How long did this little tough guy last?

Bearing in mind that he had a camera crew with him.

And that he knew he was totally safe. And also knew he'd be out in ten days.

How long?

A week? Six days? Five? I mean that might be hard. Two? One?

No.

Three hours.

Three.

Hours.

I've had longer baths.

Diary of the Dead (2007)

2008-07-07T16:10:00.018+01:00

Bad acting is always annoying but when you allow a bad actress to read a self-indulgent drawling voice over - teeth really start to grate. Doubly so if it's American. If the voice is in its early twenties and starts pointing out ham-fisted cultural observations in a world weary fashion, anger levels start to rise exponentially. Soon teeth start to clench and crack while fingernails slowly dig into armrests.

So then, how would you feel when you realise the voice over belongs to a girl who just finished editing a documentary.

A documentary about the complete and utter breakdown of civilisation as we know it, the end of the world. A documentary in which her own parents are filmed being shot and killed as she watches. A documentary where some of her friends become unwitting murderers while others are shown graphically committing suicide.

A documentary where all our worst nightmares come true and the dead rise again to walk the Earth.

You might think "Holy shit that sounds amazing, or moving, or gory. Or all of the above!"

You might, until she says "I've added some music. To scare you."

Then, you'd either burst out laughing and press eject or you'd waste the next hour and a half of your life watching George R. Romero's Diary of the Dead.

Before I break down this tremendous log of a movie into flushable chunks let me start by simply stating: Diary of the Dead is shit. Absolute unadulterated shit.

Just in case you are thinking of renting it, don't. It stinks like a shit in a microwave on full power. It is, by far, one of the shittiest movies I've seen in quite some time.

It is so shit I expected the actors to walk out halfway through.

When I say actors I mean 'cunts'. Because that's what they are, either for claiming they are actors or for knowing they can act and still taking part in this terrible affront to both cinema and logic.

At the heart of the movie is a simple premise; some film students happen to be shooting a movie when Romero's zombie crisis breaks out. One particularly hateful student decides to document the events on camera as they try to get to safety.

The fact that the movie is edited then introduced by his girlfriend - gives away the fact that he doesn't make it. Any sense of realism leaves shortly afterward with the line;

"I've added some music, to scare you."

In the movie world it is assumed that this scene is filmed after the crisis. So we must also assume that you the viewer will have been seriously affected by it, loved ones may have died. Then come back to life and then been killed by you. In a horrible way.
Sixty to seventy percent of your close friends will be dead or undead. Nowhere is safe. The home-guard and armed forces have given up protecting the public and turned to looting them for survival. Every TV channel and phone connection is out. Soon the power will be. It is literally the end of the world.

But you know what's really scary?

The creepy music on this shitty student documentary.

Logically this is like saying that without 'spooky music' the footage of mass graves at Bergen-Belsen isn't really that unsettling. Or that without a pantomime DUN-DUN-DUUUHH live execution footage would probably be a bit of a laugh.

This is the first of many Suspension Of Dis-belief Slip-ups, or SODS for short, that ruin the whole conceit.

Here is a list of just some of the silly SODS in Diary of the Dead:

"I've added music to scare you"
Everyone in the film.
The fact that the guy who is filming never stops filming, in fact he dies purely because he keeps filming rather than fighting.
Everything everyone does in the film.
The alcoholic Film tutor's 'Thesp' voice. So outrageous it would be more at home as a camp suit of armour called "Sir Knows-a-lot" in a children's cartoon.
The alcoholic Film tutor's speech on seeing too much killing in the war. He looks about fifty, and went to Eton so which war involving the British would that have been?
The head smackingly bad line; "Shoot me, shoot me" from our film student when he finally catches one in the neck. He is gesturing to his dropped camera - not the gun.
The awful, awful droning drawling voice over and stock footage montages on video culture that interrupt the mood and bounce you out of the film every ten minutes.
The abject lack of subtlety in delivering the message.
The alcoholic Film tutor arming himself with a bow and arrow because it's 'nicer' than a gun.
If the phones are out and the TV is out. Would myspace and YOU TUBE be working? Would anyone be logging on?
The farmer who gets bitten by a zombie from behind and swings his scythe up through his own head and into the zombies head as well, killing them both.
After everything that has happened and considering the scale of the personal and global tragedy that has unfolded, would you really bother editing a movie about it?
If you did, which is unlikely, would you sit there and choose which creepy music to add? Where would you do that? Why would you do that?
Just in case you forgot: "I've added music, to scare you"

There's plenty more, though you'll need to watch the film yourself if you want to spot them all.

Putting aside the absurd script, amateurish acting, non-story and the unoriginal and poorly executed conceit - there are a few good zombie deaths.

Most notably the crash cart paddles being applied to a zombie nurses head causing her eyes to boil and burst like poached eggs.

Also some good comedy zombies. The found footage of a kids birthday party for example; a clown shuffles into view, kids cheer. The Dad honks the clowns nose which promptly falls off, blood squirts out the nose hole, kids scream and then CoCo turns Dads neck into dogfood.

These parts are few and far between, maybe the worst crime on display here is that it's a zombie movie without many zombies. The best you could do is to get really drunk or stoned and press play fully expecting it to be the worst thing you've ever seen.

The only thing that shuffles and scares here is the story and the quality of acting. Like the zombies, the movie is crying out for the one thing it really lacks; brains, braaainssss.

If Cloverfield has an ugly younger brother with learning difficulties who wears rollerskates with a grubby tutu and falls over a lot then shouts "Bingo" and shits himself - it is this film.

Behold a trailer came and it did herald of the End of Days

2008-07-01T11:07:00.007+01:00

I watched WANTED on the weekend but was first treated to this piece of unpleasantness:

One minute I was expecting to see a harmless fight club / Matrix mash-up, the next I see the Herald of the Apocalypse in the shape of this trailer. I couldn't tell if it was a Chris Morris gag or a real thing.

I'm all for interesting shocking cinema. Movies that challenge you often force you to find your own meaning, to work a bit for the message and learn something about yourself in the process. What is the message here?

Well it's a message for the girls and that message is:

Don't smoke crack with people you've never met on an isolated yacht then let them have anal sex with you knowing full well that they intend to punch you hard in the back of the head before they ejaculate.

Because, you see, that's dangerous for ohhh, ermm AN INFINITE NUMBER OF REASONS. It's cheap-misogynistic-shock-shit for the sake of it. But it's the nonchalant way that they've dropped it that is most disturbing.

I imagine this is how it starts, the beginning of the end.

Just casually toss in trailer for a movie about recreational crack smoking and punching women in the back of the head during sex, then quickly move on to a Batman or a Hancock trailer.

Yeah, Donkey Punch that's fine it's just like Batman and Will Smith. Ha Ha - remember Fresh Prince- in fact did I even see that Donkey thing? What was it? Maybe I made it up or fell asleep.

Gradually there'll be more things creeping in. One minute you'll be watching an advert for Calgon or Disney then sudddenly it'll cut to grainy footage of a girl with a black eye gagging on a shotgun barrel whilst being raped. Then Barry Scott will suddenly crackle into view and Cillit Bang! The image is gone!

You won't even be sure you saw it at all. Subconsciously though, you'll be starting to accept it as normal.

A few weeks later your TV will be happily puking gang rape and snuff 24/7 - later that day a door will open in the sky, visible from every nation. The first of four seals will be broken and the four horsemen will ride out.

Donkey Punch? What are they going to call the sequel?

Space Docking? Cleveland Steamer?

I'll tell you what does my head in: Number 1

2008-06-20T14:20:00.019+01:00

The first of a continuing series addressing things that do my head in.

People who hold mobile phones in front of their face to speak, put them to their ear to listen then hold them back in front their face again to reply.

I've started noticing this recently but I can't figure out why it's happening. I'd just about credit it from a confused octogenarian wandering the streets in an open backed hospital gown. But it seems to be young kids that are doing it.

I've seen about six chavs this week wandering round roaring like Captain Kirk trying to get beamed out of a hurricane. One girl in Liverpool Street looked like she was dialling in an airstrike. She actually shouted "Say again!?" as if re-checking vital co-ordinates. The illusion was shattered when she screamed "Because it's fahkin' pissin' dahn an' I just dan me 'air in I".

Why do they do it? Have they watched too much Apprentice? Are they so dim that anything more complex than a knife generates Victorian time traveller levels of confuddlement? Is there a major design flaw in one brand of phones?

Whatever it is, it does my head in.

The Incredible Hulk (2008)

2008-06-18T13:28:00.013+01:00

Hulk, yes. Incredible, no.

The Watchable Hulk, the Bearable Hulk, the Acceptable Hulk.

Since the weekend I have been trying to figure out what was wrong with it. I remember the Ang Lee version was too long and arty and slow. It didn't have enough of Hulk smashing things up. And Nick Nolte turned into a giant jelly fish at the end.

This version doesn't have a giant jelly fish and Hulk does smash, which is great. But then he just starts to over-smash a bit. It's like you get smash blindness he smashes so much.

So what do I want for fucks sake? Less smashing? More smashing? Well, the problem isn't really the smashing. It's the Hulk. What I learnt from watching the Incredible Hulk is that Hulk is a bit shit.

In Planet Hulk (a 2006 Marvel comic) Iron Man, Reed Richards and Doctor Strange decide that after he wrecks Las Vegas, Hulk poses an unreasonable risk to Earth. So they fire him into space, to an uninhabited moon, washing their hands of him.

I can sympathise.

When he is Banner he has zero charisma. He is unable to form any sort of lasting relationship or attachment and mostly spends his time being either sad or guilty because of what Hulk has done.

When he is Hulk he just smashes stuff to bits and occasionally hurts or kills people. If it wasn't Hulk how would you even pitch that?

A movie about a sad, lonely, guilty Physicist isn't box office gold.

But wait, sometimes he turns into a monster! Great! What does the monster do?

Er, well he just smashes things up, y'know like an oversized vandal. Sometimes he kills people accidentally but mostly he just vandalises stuff and shouts at the sky or bellows at inanimate objects.

Hmmm, ok.

Sooooo... what does Shouting Guilty Sad Vandal Man want to do? What is his ultimate goal? Who is he saving? Why?

Himself! He wants to become Boring Physicist Man! No more guilt and sadness and no more smashing and shouting.

And Boring Physicist Man is better than Shouting Guilty Sad Vandal Man... why?

Therein lies the problem, the actual idea isn't that great. Once you've seen Hulk smash more than twice there isn't much more that you really want to see him smash. Although when you've seen Ed Norton as Banner for longer than 5 minutes you realise there is something else you'd like to see Hulk smash - Nortons head, like a grape under a boot.

The story is as thin as the general premise. Banner is hiding in Brazil but he wants to find a Hulk cure. To figure out the Hulk cure he needs data from his lab so he must meet Betty Ross and then the secretive Mr Blue.

But General Ross wants to find Banner so he hires a commando, Blonsky, to chase Banner while he does all of the above.

No cure is found - obviously. Blonsky gets more and more drugged up and eventually becomes the Abomination - cue big fight, Hulk wins, Hulk runs away. End.

On the plus side Tim Roth is fantastic as Blonsky, effectively snarling his way through a different movie. He lifts every scene he's in. His face off with Hulk, after being dosed with Super Soldier Serum, was big stupid fun. Meanwhile Liv Tyler does a good job of playing Sarah from Team America, which is a shame because she should be playing Betty Ross from Incredible Hulk.

Most of the other actors do a reasonable job but they could be swapped out with pretty much anyone and not be missed.

For the first half the movie is fun. There is a fantastic Bourne-esque rooftop chase across a favela, a great Military vs. Hulk showdown on a college campus and some compelling stuff from Roth. Unfortunately toward the third act it deteriorates into little more than cgi WWF.

Yeah, it was fun to see Hulk rip a police car in half then use the two halves as boxing gloves - but it didn't connect. It just sort of washed over me. I didn't really care if he won or lost, then when he did win he just ran off. Probably to feel guilty and sad somewhere on his own.

Interestingly there are some geeky suggestions at an evolving Marvel Movieverse, for example Blonsky is dosed up from a dusty canister bearing the name of Dr.Reinstein. For the uninitiated (or people who have a life) he's the doctor who originally administered the Serum to Captain America in WWII. The excellent opening credit recap shows weapons being bought from Stark Industries. Then later on the government uses a SHIELD interface to track down Banner. Finally near the end we get Downey Jr. as Tony Stark in a cameo nod to the Avenger initiative.

Presumably we'll get various pay-offs to these hints in the upcoming Captain America, Iron Man II and Avengers movies.
Nevertheless most normal people will find these references as interesting or rewarding as standing in a queue to hear an old man sigh. In the end Downey Jr. only reminds us of the wit, charm and excitement on display in Iron Man that is sadly lacking in Hulk.

Thank you? Fuck you.

2008-06-17T14:46:00.017+01:00

Fuck you, fuck your cars and fuck your stupid bland advert.

Maybe it's the cloying Donald Sutherland voice over? Is it the wistful folky fucking accoustic guitar? Perhaps the feeling of no real message? Or the feeling that something interesting has been made dull? Or the fact it seems like a re-dub of some previous vapid vanilla Euro nonsense?

Possibly all of the above? The end result is a bland, mawkish, lobotomised drool of an ad. Even Don sounds like he's about to doze off. When he says "Further, furtherrrrrrrr" I half expected to hear a snore followed by a sleepy accidental fart.

An utter waste of everyones time including that of the viewer. Worst of all - it sort of feels like this...

...but with cars instead of dogs.

For BMW to be happy with this is just plain lazy, laaaaayzaaaaaaay...zzzzzzzz....parp.

Still on a car tip the new Mercedes brand ad has a more blurry, artsy Michael Mann approach. Rain spots blur out of focus on the lens. A cityscape. A man sits in a café alone. Now he stands in the rain, a Mercedes powers through a desert at night, a black dog runs through the evaporating dust trails.

The moon turns into his eye, then becomes a tunnel out which is stalking a dog whose glinting eyes morph into headlamps, leaving streaky traces they swerve away. The scene melts out of focus. Aa glassy chrome cityscape dissolves in, reflected in a car bonnet. A stubble chinned business man stands on the bonnet wanking furiously and staring intensely at himself in the windscreen. An ominous bass tone, building in intensity, plays throughout. Climaxing with a bit of freestyle jazz trumpet and an agonised scream of "I AM MERCEDESARRRGAAAHH"

Alright, I made the last bit up. I actually quite like this, I like the mood and the music is very menacing. Unfortunately the interesting bit of the script was done better here...

...he was talking about experience. Plus since he's Bruce Campbell, this is instantly elevated above and beyond pretty much anything else.

Devil May Care (2008)

2008-06-07T12:17:00.040+01:00

Just over thirty years ago, on a beach in Hawaii, George Lucas sat with Steven Spielberg. They built sandcastles while George worried if STAR WARS would be a success that opening weekend. The conversation turned to dream projects and Speilberg said "I'd love to do a Bond movie". Lucas replied "I've got something much better than Bond" and proceeded to lay out his idea for an archaeological adventure called Raiders of the Lost Ark.

So it seems fated that hot on the heels of Indy, BOND IS BACK! Or so say the shouty promo posters, albeit in tasteful silver typography. In a plot sounding more at home in an Indy movie, the Fleming Estate has drafted in Sebastian Faulks to perform some literary voodoo; re-animating and possessing the corpse of Ian Fleming in order to produce one last Bond book. Written in six weeks, the same amount of time Fleming alloted per book, Faulks first spent an extra six weeks reading the original Bond adventures in chronological order.

The result is a fast paced, easy read weighing in at around 300 pages. I'll have to admit that I'm coming at this whole thing arse about face - not having read any original Bond novels. Nevertheless this offers some advantages to judging the book on its own merits.

The novel begins, sans Bond, depicting a grisly murder in a rainy Parisian slum. Someone is extracting (in every sense of the word) a gruesomely literal revenge for 'talking too much'. Bond is not hot on the heels of the murderer nor is he coiled ready to pounce on the next page. He isn't even holed up with some preposterously named lovely. He is on a forced sabbatical.

He stood naked in front of the mirror and looked into his face, with a distaste he made no attempt to soften. 'You're tired' he said out loud. 'You're played out. Finished'

Melancholy and somewhat listless, Bond is idling in Rome when we first meet him. Banned from drinking and then turning down an easy night with a stunning girl, Bond isn't himself. Vulnerable, tired and in his own words 'Finished' he fears that soon the fastest thing he'll be driving is a desk back in London.

This navel gazing doesn't last long though. Soon Bond is in London and rather than retiring him, M wants him on the job. He briefs him on Dr. Julias Gorner. A chemist who not only has a massive legal business in pharmaceutical production but, almost certainly operates an even bigger business in heroin manufacture.

At last, he heard the voice - distorted, distant but unmistakeable - of the man he most respected in the world.

'Bond?'

'Sir'

'The party's over'

Things start rolling immediately and soon all the usual ingredients come tumbling across the pages. Car chases, shoot-outs, shoot-outs during car chases, flights abroad, shoot-outs during flights abroad, unsporting contests, henchmen, exotic cuisine, foreign locations, one liners and alluring women. All of which of course culminates in Bond attempting to stop the villains evil plan.

Once back to work Bond is drinking at least a bottle of whiskey a day and smoking in excess of 40 cigarettes before supper. In addition, and I'm not sure if this is classic Fleming or a baffling obsession of Faulkes, Bond appears to eat nothing but eggs. I lost count of the number of times he ordered omelettes in hotels. I'm not sure whether the Bond girls 'fell for him' or simply fainted due to his stench. Less "oh James" more "Ugh, Christ James! Was that you?, Urgh, I can taste it, oh it stinks - and Jesus did you brush your teeth with dogshit this morning?" Still, it doesn't seem to bother them.

Larissa raised an eyebrow and crossed her legs. It was a way of bringing them to his attention, Bond knew, and he couldn't blame her. They were long, with a supple shapeliness and elegance: not the result of exercise or dieting, Bond thought, but of breeding, youth and expensive hosiery.

In terms of evil schemes Gorner has not one, but two plans to take his revenge on the British. The two plans have no logical connection whatsoever - although I'm not sure this is much of an issue. It's big it's bad - Bond has to stop it.

What is more of an issue is Gorners motivations. Gorner, like many a Bond villain, has a deformity. And it's a beauty. Instead of a left hand, he has a monkey's paw. Not a detachable one like Mr. Han in Enter the Dragon, an actual monkey's paw - a big hairy non-opposable thumb having monkey's paw. To hide this he wears one white glove all the time like an evil, white version of Michael Jackson bent on exploiting the young and naive. Or like Michael Jackson, depending on your point of view.

Gorner was teased about this relentlessly in his youth at Oxford University and it seems that this is where his hatred of all things British stems from. Frankly it's a bit of a stretch, still Gorner is very entertaining throughout. There is also a evil henchman who has such an unusual 'tic' and Achilles heel that it is a shame to give it away. One of his torture scenes had me holding the book as far away as I could and grimacing in case he somehow leant off the page and did the same to me.

'Yes, indeed,' he said. 'London going up in nuclear smoke. The Houses of Parliment, jolly old Big Ben, the National Gallery, Lords's cricket ground...'

'This VC-10' said Bond, 'who's going to be the fool to fly it?'

'Why, that's very simple, Bond' said Gorner, taking a few paces toward him. 'You are.'

The period, gadget free setting is a refreshing change and helped the story along no end. To be honest I doubt I'd have even bought it had it been set in the present day. I haven't read Flemings Bond so I can't compare the two styles but the book read like an early Sean Connery Bond movie, at least that's how I imagined it. So make of that what you will.

Again, like Indy the other week, it spent a lot of time referencing previous adventures and trying to weave in old favourites such as Felix Leiter. So it's essentially it's another greatest hits album with a new song - this time in the shape of a location rather than a finale, Bond has never visited much of the Middle East in previous adventures. Here he spends the majority of time in Tehran which is brought vividly to life via a combination of earthy characters and dusty bustling locations. All sprinkled with luxury, indulgence and life threatening danger.

If you want more Bond then here it is.

But do people want more Bond?

Isn't is essentially the same thing we've seen countless times before?

Well, yes and no. At the time of writing Devil May Care is No.1 on the Amazon best-sellers list and placing a world weary Bond back in the sixties brings a freshness that no amount of invisible cars and cgi can accomplish. I blasted through the book in three sittings on the way to work. I actually found myself disappointed whenever I had to close the thing to get off the train.

It reads like a long lost Bond film. Tons of fun, plenty of thrills and all the usual Bond ingredients minus the cheese. Why Faulkes replaces the cheese with eggs remains a mystery.

Winehouse talks to husband (through baby mouse)

2008-06-06T16:32:00.007+01:00

I don't know where to start. The blue light? The filthy hands? The talking? All the way through I was never sure if they were going to squish them like grapes, smoke them, eat them or all three. It's like some sort of Lynchian You Tube nightmare.

My car is my lover

2008-05-29T15:46:00.000+01:00

Sadly I missed what looks to have been a poignant and restrained Channel 5 doc on Mechaphiles last night. For those of you mouthing the word 'mecha-what' a mechaphile is a car-lover, someone who fucks cars. Or in some cases just wanks over them.

According to my friend at one point one of them claimed to have shagged Airwolf. I can't help but wonder how long it will be before this important issue gets the attention it deserves. We have abolished and apologised for slavery yet we continue to refer to ourselves as 'car owners'. At last the idea of gay marriage has become a reality but what about those who want to wed their four wheeled wank wagon? How long must we wait till auto-sexual priests can stand proud at the pulpit and preach the pleasures of the tailpipe?

Come election time it is these types of important issues that could be the deciding factors, thank you Channel 5 for making such a thought provoking piece of shit.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

2008-05-24T17:49:00.004+01:00

Last time George Lucas jump-started a franchise I grew up with it was universally hailed as both a critical and commercial success story. In the summer of 1999 everyone wanted to kiss his fat neck and grow a 'Georgie'. An affectionate term for the beard and quiff combo sported by the Lucasfilm mogul. After the opening of Phantom Menace I (like many others) started wearing Lucas style lumberjack shirts. I was so happy about the way he had added to some of my favourite films and given the world a new fantastic sci-fi action adventure, someday I could show it to my kids and say "I was there on opening day".

None of this is true, of course. When I say 'fantastic' I really mean 'staggeringly abysmal' and by 'sci-fi action adventure' I mean 'shit-crock exploits of a dimble-brained rasta alien fuckstick, Liam Neeson and a little twat who shouts yipeee'. Nobody wanted to kiss Georgie and no one wanted a beard like his. Instead of wearing lumberjack shirts I wore a frown made of hate. I hated him a lot.

I hated him for making a boring Star Wars movie about a trade embargo. I hated him for making Darth Vader whiny and annoying. I hated him for suddenly deciding that you can't learn 'the force' and that some people are just born with it. Maybe most of all I hated him for somehow ensuring that no-one 'acted' at any point in any of the Star Wars prequels.

I wasn't alone. There were millions of others just like me. All of us hating George for squatting over our childhood favourites, going blue in the face and straining out a sludgy string of stinky fat curlers; laughing like Jabba all the while as his illuminated dollar sign eyes rolled backwards and made ker-ching noises.

Last night, nine years later, as the lights fell in the theatre I was worried that it would be the same story again. This morning however, a friend asked me to sum up Indy 4 in one word and I said 'Relief'.

Somehow George's influence hasn't caused this project to completely derail. Indiana Jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull is not shit. It's not even just OK, it's good, it's very good. If you didn't like Indiana Jones before this isn't going to make you see the light but if you like Indy you'll like this - at times you might even love it.

Right from the off even the Paramount logo treatment plays into the lowered expectations for this movie. In Raiders the logo became an Andean mountain, in Temple it was embossed on a giant gong, Crusade turned it into a peak in Monument Valley. Here it becomes more molehill than mountain and is soon crushed beneath the wheels of a speeding hot-rod as Elvis blares from the radio.

Things have moved on since we last met Indy, the nineteen years since he was last in the cinemas have also passed by in his world. He rode into the sunset in 1938 but it's 1957 when a fake military motorcade pulls past the Atomic Café, takes out the guards and rides into Area 51.

Still some things never change, before long a body is hauled from the boot of a car and thrown to the floor amidst a flurry of orders spoken in Russian. A hand reaches into frame, it picks up and dusts off a familiar old hat. We get a shot of the classic silhouette, the theme begins to stir and Indy is back! Dusty, battered and filling the frame with a one miserable word - "Russians."

Russians who are looking for something, something held inside a déjà vu inducing warehouse full of wooden crates. What follows is everything you could hope for in an Indiana Jones opening sequence. There is not one but two supernatural relics involved, Indy fights bad guys, Indy fights a bigger bad guy, he runs, he swings, he whips, he drives, he crashes from one scene to another, into increasing bizarre vehicles and locations and when he finally escapes he is debriefed by Jim Robinson from neighbours. It's pretty much everything I hoped for and more. I had a big grin throughout.

After a quick breather back at Marshall College the movie starts proper. Shia LaBeouf rolls in looking like Marlon Brando's underfed little brother and tells Indy that his old college chum Professor Oxley has gone missing. Supposedly last seen in Peru while searching for some kind of crystal skull. 'Mutt' produces a letter covered with symbols and gibberish and tells Indy that he has a stake in this too, his mother is also missing.

More action isn't far away in the shape of some russian agents and a lively motorcycle chase across the college campus. Shortly thereafter Indy is swapping his tweed for khaki again and we are treated to the trusty red line weaving its way across the world map as things really start rolling.

From here on in it's business as usual. Dusty temples, skeletons, treasure, traps, puzzles, angry natives and one liners. At 65 Harrison Ford is more than equal to the task of bringing Indy back from the dead and it may not be the only thing he's reviving. For the first time in ten plus years he actually seems to want to be at work. He runs, dives, jumps, whips and quips his way through this movie like a man half his age. Shia is barely a third of his age but he holds his own against the star of the show. There are some cracking exchanges between the two, he brings exactly the right sort of chemistry and likeable 80s movie style energy that made him stand out in Transformers and Disturbia.

On the side of evil Cate Blanchett is tons of fun as the psychic leader of the Russians. Although they never quite feel as threatening as the Nazis they do their job. The big 'surprise' is the return of Karen Allen. She is feisty as ever even if she drops into the background in the third act. Marion and Indys reunion scene is wonderful as is Indy's retort on being accused of seeing other women during their time apart:

- There must have been other women.
- Yeah, but they all had the same problem - they weren't you honey.

Despite plenty of star names on the bill it's Indy and the action that are the real stars. A phenomenal set-piece chase later in the movie taking place between a series of vehicles travelling through the jungle puts most other action movies to shame.

On the down side, there's a couple of stupid things in this movie. Tarzan Shia and the friendly monkeys, Mutt just 'happening' to have learnt fencing, But barring the occaisional misfire, script clunk or (even for Indy) over the top bit it's a still an Indy movie.

Some people have reacted badly to the sci-fi elements. I find aliens equally as believable as the infinite life cup or Gods magic ghost box, certainly no less. Given the 50s B-movie atomic age setting it fits right in. All the classic Indy elements are there. Even an amusing snake scene.

The only criticism I'd level at this movie is that it leans too hard on the past but, in a way that's exactly what I wanted. Something comfortable and reassuring not jar-jarring, alien and annoying. Indy 4 is like a greatest hits album, with a 'new song' at the end. The new song is a bit weird and different and the old ones you've probably played to death.

I wanted to love it, I was worried I'd hate it - in the end I came away pretty happy. For two hours I smiled, laughed and cheered and generally felt like a kid. If you sit and pick it to pieces it doesn't work but neither do any of them - just go, leave the real world at the door and enjoy a two hour ride.

Speed Racer (2008)

2008-05-16T17:26:00.001+01:00

From the creators of the Matrix comes a world built for Speed. And mushrooms or high grade LSD. The Wachowski Brothers are back and this time they've stripped off their S&M leathers, painted their cocks with glowing primary colours and they're gonna fuck your eye holes. Two flashing, fizzing, fat neon cocks relentlessly ramming the windows to your soul for two hours and ten minutes. Still, no matter how desperately they both grip your head, cycle through strobe settings and furiously pump away, Speed Racer has all the emotional charge of a dialling tone.

A lot has been said about the way this movie looks. That until now this couldn't have been made or that you've never seen anything like it before. This is the sort of wild studio based statement that reminds me of when Matrix Reloaded was coming out. Producer Joel Silver said "We've raised the bar so high that there is no bar". Sadly the results looked like a rushed xbox game with a script from an Atari game and a plot from drunken game of consequences.

As far as the race sequences go I'll admit that they are fantastic. There is an avalanche of creativity on screen, explosions of new techniques, multicoloured manga made real, genuinely mind blowing visual flair and innovation. But when Speed takes his foot off the pedal it's not just the car that stops dead. The bits inbetween look like Dick Tracy with sub-Phantom Menace acting. It's a 100 million dollar remake of Flash Gordon by a Vulcan.

I didn't care about Rex, I didn't care about Mom and Pops, I definitely didn't care about Spritle and fucking Chim-Chim. I didn't care if Speed won or lost. I didn't even care if Speed lived or died. About three quarters of the way through I started to stop caring if I lived or died.

Even Christina Ricci can't save it. Everyone plays their part well but somehow their dodgy lines fall flat, never stepping out of the green screened soundstage and into the cartoon world the races occupy. Much like Phantom Menace at first glance the movie seems to have all the ingredients for adrenaline fuelled action and adventure. But they soon make the same mistakes. No-one wants to see a sci-fi adventure movie that revolves around a trade embargo, and, no-one wants to see a racing movie that revolves around a complicated plot to drive up stock prices.

The races themselves soon become repetitive, another spinning car, another upside down shot. The so called car-fu that has been made so much of was so-so but in the grand scheme of things it added nothing - the movie lacked heart and no amount of upside down, spinning, back-flipping cgi cars could replace that.

When I saw it on a Saturday night the cinema was empty except for five people. Which is probably a good indication of how popular this flickering kaleidoscopic turd is going to be. You could always say that really this is for kids, I don't agree. There was a kid sitting behind us during the showing and he didn't get it at all.

Every ten seconds he would ask who or what was on screen and why it was happening. If the sound was louder i.e. during a race he would ask repeatedly, each time increasing in volume. Who is that? Where is he going? Has he crashed? Why has he crashed? Will he get an ambulance? WILL HE GET AN AMBULANCE? WILL HE GET AN AMBULANCE?

Despite the fact that Pops was in the movie from the start - about an hour and forty-five minutes in he bellowed 'Is that his Dad?'

At one point Speed Racer was talking to an ex-Grand Prix winner who was black. The kid shouted 'Is that his brother?'

Maybe this spastic child has coloured my view of Speed Racer, but, question-tourettes-kid or not this was a shit movie. One reviewer called it 'a hit and run with a box of Crayola' another 'the cgi equivalent of a bukkake movie'. You'll definitely be wiping the cgi spunk off your face for weeks afterwards but you'll have forgotten why it's there before you stand-up.

Incidentally after putting up with it for over an hour we asked the Dad to try and control his kid, repeatedly. Forty-five minutes and numerous inane questions later after hearing him say "When does it finish?' and the Dad say 'Yeah it's boring innit?' I turned round and told him to 'Shut the fuck up because I can't hear the fucking film' to which he replied 'It's a kids film' to which I replied 'Mate, your fucking kid isn't enjoying it and he hasn't had a fucking clue what has happened from start to finish, so why don't you fuck off' to which he just shrugged.

Problem is they're right, Speed Racer is boring and you do wonder when it will finish. For an adaptation of a cartoon about race cars that has to be a major fuck up. If you asked me why I watched the whole thing I'd probably shrug too.

Perfume (2006)

2008-04-28T23:23:00.000+01:00

Perfume is a beautiful looking film, most closely resembling a feature length Stella Artois advert. In fact Stella should consider a promotion where they bundle copies of the movie with 24 packs, along with instructions to start watching and drinking about 2 and a half hours before a big match.

It would perfectly combine their quaint French chocolate box visuals with Stellas delightful reputation for causing women to be on the receiving end of male fists. As a bonus consumers get blind drunk, occasionally see some tits and are left snorting with rage by the end. The perfect primer for an afternoon of shouting at overpaid logo clad twats and punching each other in the face.

The film itself starts well enough - an unlikeable, spazzy, French Norman Wisdom is born with a supersonic sense of smell. He proceeds to have a difficult youth, get sold to a workhouse and then blunder about until he accidentally kills a girl while trying to sniff her. Then he meets fading perfume expert, Italian Dustin Hoffman. Hoffmans character is Italian only in name, his accent here ranging from not there to just shit.

The great Hoffmannini proceeds to teach our bumbling, girl suffocating, corpse sniffling protagonist about perfume theory.

He explains the top note; the first impression of a perfume, the scents detected upon application. He explains the heart note; the mellow core of scents which hit minutes later and form the main body of the perfume. Then he explains the base note, bringing depth and solidity, whose scents are detected 30 minutes after application but can linger for days.

Finally he says that each of these notes are made of 4 scents making 12 unique notes that combine to create a perfume. He goes on to tell of a legendary, perfect perfume that contains 13 notes. Upon learning a way to capture and render the scent of almost anything our 'hero' begins the search for his own ultimate scent.

Does he collect the scent of a summers day? The scent of the night sky with someone you love? The scent of a honey bees post-sting regret? Perhaps the scent of the colour blue? No.

He collects the scent of pretty girls.

Fair enough, most of them smell quite nice.

Except he shaves them first. Even their heads.

After he's killed them.

Why can't he collect their smell while they're alive? Who cares? Not the writer or director. If the girls were presented with the option of death or being coated a bit of fat for a few hours - they'd probably choose the latter. Since they aren't we must follow his gurning reign of sniff-based head-clonking terror. Eventually he culls, shaves and smears his way through enough hot girls to create his wonder scent.

But almost as soon as the perfume is complete he is captured... and then things get a bit weird.

Turns out that he has somehow brewed a perfume of pure love and so he literally gets away with murder - splashing a bit of it about at his execution gets him an immediate pardon and the unadulterated love of the crowd. As the heart note hits the thousand strong crowd they are consumed with desire, stripping naked and engaging in a full on writhing orgy in the town square. The base note seems to then affect a sort of opiate induced cuddle coma on the crowd but by now our hero is long gone. But that's not the weird bit.

After all this, killing, mixing, collecting, concocting and perfecting what does our hero do? He returns to where he was born, uncorks the bottle and tips the entire contents of his lifes work all over himself. This attracts all the beggars in the local area toward him and then they obviously just eat him.

Sorry, did I say 'obviously' because what I actually said when I saw it was 'WHAT?' followed more loudly by 'WHAT THE FUCK?' followed by 'Ermm rewind it a sec' followed by 'What the FUCK?' again. But no they definitely just eat him.

If this film were a perfume the top note would be excitement and anticipation. The heart note would be humorous confusion and the base note would be violent anger and regret.

A lot like drinking a box of Stella.