The Expendables

This shot says everything you need to know about this film.

I'm still having a hard time genuinely believing that this is a real movie and not just some dream from an alcohol induced coma as a result of last night. This isn't to say that I think it's ridiculous or a poor choice for any studio to produce, quite the opposite in fact. It's just not your average movie in these times where everything made is suitable for my mother. At least somebody at Millennium Films had the massive cock and balls required to give The Expendables the green light.

I spent seven days in isolation with a group of monks in Morocco in preparation for this event.
I ate nothing but live goat and drank nothing but milk - fresh and straight from the breast of a suckling nun. I slept upon a bed of rocks and wild grass in only the skin of a bear I had killed with nothing but my fists and had to climb to the top of the highest mountain to gather fresh raptor eggs for breakfast every morning. And still my body was ill prepared for this movie. In hindsight this may have been because I had gone out and got solidly liquored up the night before. Either way it was so good it nearly blew my balls off from 100 paces.

This film was a dizzying masterpiece constructed entirely out of the dreams of every young boy who grew up in the 80's and 90's. It is a montage of excellence and ass-kicking; delivered, like swift justice, by a size 12 boot to the head. The Expendables stars pretty much every action star to ever roundhouse kick an ethnic villain in the head while in some shithole banana republic. Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, Jason Statham, Jet Li and Dolph Lundgren - the list goes on, and on. And so will I. Action film wash-up Mickey Rourke, pro wrestler-turned-bad actor Steve Austin, that angry guy from the Old Spice commercials Terry Crews and the next President of the United States Arnold Scharzan...Shwartzs... Arnold Swayze... The Terminator. It's got the Terminator in it. And they are all in a motorcycle gang together. Truly the manliest of men.

The movie is a revisit to our childhood days of wonderment at Stallone's ability to kill every Russian within a 3 mile radius, or Dolph Lundgren's tendency to turn into a bad guy, or even Terry Crews' power to block odours for 16 hours with nothing but biceps and a dangerously short towel. It's a timeless classic, a throwback to the good old days of shitty pyrotechnics and a lot of bad guys jumping in the wrong direction to the explosions. That's not to say that it is without special effects, it's not. But it uses them moderately and wisely, for instance to blow a guy in half with a shotgun, or detach a guy's hand and head with a knife. Only the important stuff.

The opening credits reveal the true genius behind this epic tale of machismo. Written by Sylvester Stallone. Directed by Sylvester Stallone. Casting by Sylvester Stallone. Starring Sylvester Stallone. Frankly I'm surprised he didn't just call the film "Sylvester Stallone as Sylvester Stallone in - Sylvester Stallone: The Movie (This film is my apology for making 'Stop or my Mum will shoot').

Speaking of the casting, as I have about two paragraphs ago, it is awesome. You cannot get a better cast for an action movie than every actor who has ever been in one. Throw in a Chuck Norris and a Van Damme and you just might end the world as we know it. From what I've read Stallone actually asked Jean-Claude to be in the movie, but the muscles from Brussels wouldn't, stating the script wasn't 'socially conscious' and instead gave Stallone a more PC friendly rewrite, which Stallone merely mocked, and then set alight and used it to then set fire to a $10,000 note, which he then in-turn used to light a cigar. It may not be a terribly efficient method of lighting a smoke, but he swears by it, so who am I to argue. I prefer to strike a match across an adversaries face, or tread on the neck of a kneeling orphan and strike it upon my boot heel.

I seriously doubt that any movie could come along and dethrone this affront to decency from the stone dais it stole off Thor. There is something beyond our world and our dimension at work here, forces we do not yet understand and shouldn't be toying with. This is holy ground in digital print, a beacon for retired action stars and B movie wash ups everywhere. There is hope yet for a comeback.
Stallone is awesome, and still looking good for 63, and it was something special indeed to see Stallone and Lundgren back together in the one movie, a spectacle that hasn't been seen since 1985's Rocky IV. Who in the cinema wasn't secretly hoping they'd fist fight?

If I had to sum this movie up in one sentence, it would be "Necessarily unnecessary, and utterly justified in its flagrant fan-service". Because it was. It didn't have too little or too many explosions. It had just the right amount to keep your balls tingling, yet left your eyes wanting only more. "More!" they screamed, and it was so delivered. And Man saw it, and he saw that it was good. There was a good pace to the action that kept you engaged in the slight story that passed for a plot in my mind. Honestly, it could have been these guys in a bar talking about the movie they were in for 90 minutes and I still would have payed to see it. There was no foreseeable way that this could go badly. It isn't mathematically possible.

There is a theorem that a movie's greatness is equally proportional to the masculinity of its hero divided by the dickholery of its villain multiplied by the hotness of the damsel in distress, with additional points given for unexplainable tit shots.

I'm not going to waste your time here attempting to explain the plot, because you're going to see it anyway, and if you aren't then I hope you have a good time at your hairdressing salon getting a perm, you glittery queen. Real men watch movies to see people get punched and shot, and sometimes - during a lull in the fighting - a story-arc will break out.

And Steve Austin? Steve Austin can't act. All he does is look ugly and grunt a lot. Why does this guy keep turning up in action movies? Hasn't the casting agent seen any of his films? There are livelier rugs out there.

Anyway, basically what I am trying to say is go and see this. If you are in the middle of your mother's funeral then too bad, it's not like she's going anywhere anyway. Go and see it now. Leave your kids at your parent's place or the nearest paedophile's house and go.

This movie made my life better. Alcohol tastes sweeter upon my lips, women appear generally more attractive and I now hunger exclusively for the meat of infant animals. As IGN said, "If testosterone could mate with an explosion, this movie would be its offspring." And that is as true today as it was when it was written, which was yesterday.

Crime Spree

Zero, Bum-nose and Charlés Bronson looking cool.

2003 called, they want their relatively unknown movie back. Which is sad, in a way, because Crime Spree is actually a pretty good film.

Crime Spree, or Le Film de Merde as it is known in it's native French, was written and directed by Brad Mirman, who was previously known for writing and/or directing such masterful additions to film history as Gideon, Knight Moves, The Piano Player, Absolon and the famously shit-tacular Highlander 3: The Final Dimension. I’m going to let that sink in for a minute. Highlander 3.

How does a man with such a terrible fucking resume still get to make movies? You wouldn’t give a homeless man a credit card. No, because he made some pretty shit choices. Would you give Michael J. Fox a license to perform delicate brain surgery? God no. So why, after fucking Highlander 3, did anyone agree to give this arse-hat money to make a goddamn movie? Not even fucking Zues himself could answer that. But do you know what? I’m glad they did. Because – apart from the obvious fact that this guy kept Christopher Lambert employed throughout the 90’s – he went on to write and direct this movie.

Crime Spree is in many ways comparable to Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. I say comparable here, although I really mean ‘blatantly ripped off entire segments from’. The whole first scene could be mistaken for that particular scene in Lock, Stock (which came out 5 years before Crime Spree) where those two bumbling idiots try to steal the something from the mansion and the old man with a double barrel shotgun who is trying to fend them off not just for the two morons in a mansion trying to steal something, but also because of the old man who tries to fend them off with a double barrel shotgun.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down here, folks?

Other than that it shares a few other similarities to Guy Ritchie films, not so obviously, in the style, pace and multiple converging storylines which I feel only enhance any movie – Ritchie or not. Now, I don’t think I’m just making random connections here because, eerily, when I looked this movie up on IMDB all four NewsDesk articles were about Jason Statham. Coincidence?

I should probably talk about the movie at some point. The story revolves around 6 French criminals who are sent to Chicago by their boss to steal a precious jewelled necklace for him. Leading them is Daniel (Gerard Depardieu), with Marcel – a man that looks more like a French Charles Bronson than Charles Bronson would in France – as the muscle and the Algerian pretty boy Sami as the man who knows the layout of the area. With them are Zero – the man who only refers to himself in the third person – as the shooter, Raymond – the sensitive 40 year old who lives with him mother – as the driver and finally Julien – The idiot sidekick – as the idiot sidekick.

On an unrelated note Julien looks so much like Hugh Laurie that for half the movie I thought I was watching House being a badass, although the speaking French thing was, in retrospect, an early warning sign.

The job doesn’t exactly go to plan as they find themselves tying up and robbing the underboss of the Chicago mafia – Frankie Zammeti (played by Harvey Keitel). Unfortunately for them Zammeti’s house is under surveillance from the FBI and a particularly corrupt Agent Pogue (Shawn Lawrence). All the while the car they stole for a getaway vehicle belongs to the leader of the local Hispanic gang.

Now they have the FBI, the Chicago mafia, the Hispanic gangs and a corrupt FBI agent after them. I believe the technical term for that is ‘fucked’.

The ending isn’t exactly one of those surprising mind-fucks, but by the same token it isn’t very obvious, and I think it works very well in this case. You grow genuine feelings for these half-wit criminals, thrown into a situation as scapegoats for greedy and corrupt assholes.

And that poor deaf guy.

The casting is fabulous, so fabulous you’ll have to pretend in saying ‘fabulous’ with my wrist limp and my leather pants tight. Gerard Depardieu is both funny and well suited as Daniel, and plays his dramatic scenes quite well. Zero, also played by a man with only one name – Renaud, is great, just great. He is so self assured and cool, it kind of makes me want to be French. And may God strike me down if I ever say that again. Hell, even Abe Vigoda makes an appearance. And if you don’t know who Abe Vigoda is may the lord have mercy upon your soul because I will come down on you like the fist of a righteous god.
Fucking Abe Vigoda. He'll make an appearance in anything these days, ever since the decline of 'goodfella' mafioso movies.

The movie also plays on the culture shock of these frog eaters coming to America for the first time. There is a funny scene where they are in some shithole diner ordering lunch and one of them asks to ‘see the wine list’. It’s that kind of clever humour that is halfway between jutting brow stupid comedy and brilliantly satirical and mocking wit, which is a hard line to walk.

Gerard Depardieu’s nose looks like a bum though, and that can get pretty distracting at times. And, while this paragraph does seem broken and out of place, I didn’t really have anywhere else to put it.

If you are looking to waste a couple of hours with a good show and a few laughs, then I would strongly recommend watching Crime Spree. Plus you will be helping Brad Mirman keep such great actors as Christian Slater, Christopher Lambert and Harvey Keitel in work. And I think we all know that that is a fucking essential.

After watching this movie I developed an affinity for fine wines, cheeky reds in particular.

And remember: Guns don’t kill people, Mario Van Peebles.

Avatar

I'm blue da ba dee da ba die...

I really don’t want to review this movie. It's not that it's bad in anyway, but no matter what approach I take here, no one is going to be happy. But at this stage I really don’t care. I just sat through like 3 hours of movie.

James Cameron’s Avatar was about as expensive to make as a movie gets, somewhere in the vicinity of $300 million, and it’s not hard to see that most of that has gone into digital effects and some sweaty virgin with a distinct feline fetish and a MacBook Pro in a dank basement somewhere. Robert Rodriguez could have done this movie for $8.65 in change and a tin of blue paint. Lucky for Cameron this, along with that snore-fest ‘Titanic’, became the two highest grossing films of all time. That’s a lot of faith we have in someone who dresses like Steve Jobs.

Avatar went on to win a total of 31 awards, including 3 Oscars, and roughly 5000gb of internet praise and e-jizz, and it’s difficult to see why. It wasn’t a bad film, at least not by most standards, but it’s a far cry from wowing me in any sense. Certainly not as good as idiots are raving it to be. Yes, cinematically it was nothing less than a work of art, but this movie was about as original a concept as sex in the missionary position. Don’t get me wrong here; it’s certainly not a bad movie. It’s just not especially good. There is nothing that sets this movie apart other than the fact that it is about 90% computer generated, which places it somewhere next to The Lawnmower Man. You could play a game where you take a shot every time you see real footage in this film and stay dead sober. It relies far too heavily on this CG world to fill in the gaps for bad screen writing and terrible acting. Fuck, will people stop hiring Sam Worthington. He cannot do an American accent to save his fucking career.

The plot to this movie is anything short of original. He could have called it “James Cameron’s FernGully” and been just as accurate. It is set on the moon-planet of Pandora – a word which is about as heavily used as any word that begins with ‘Re’ these days – which is home to the Na’vi, who look as if someone bread Smurfet with Azrael and fed the spawn copious amounts of steroids. The Na’vi (hey, listen!) are massive hippies, believing their deity Eywa to be within every living thing in the universe - a bit presumptuous, but whatever. The premise for human habitation of this world is that scarce, and very valuable, mineral called ‘unobtainium’. Yes, that’s right. Unobtainium. Like they sat in the office asking, “What can we call this mineral that humans travelled a billion light years to harvest. Surely it must be unobtainable elsewhere otherwise... hey, that’s it!” So basically we decide to take their land because we want its natural resources. This is a recurring theme in human society, it seems. At least offer them guns in exchange for corn first. This movie is a racist. Really, you could have painted the Na’vi red and it would have been the American frontier all over again.

(Queue Iron Maiden's 'Run To The Hills')

The massive conglomerate (and it is always a greedy conglomerate) RDA corporation is mining the planet so that its shareholders might actually turn a profit. How dare they, the bastards. Leading this company is Giovanni Ribisi, who plays Administrator Parker Selfridge. Parker hires a private military force, called Sec-Ops (because Spec-Ops was taken, presumably) to protect his workers and his profits and to kill any blue people that stand in the way of a quick buck. Sam Worthington plays Jake Scully, a cripple who takes control of an Avatar - a laboratory grown Na’vi body - and uses it to be about a big a dickhead as is humanly possible in a non-human body. Long story short he falls in love with a Na’vi named Neytiri and decides he’d rather live as one of them than a human. This doesn’t sit well with Neytiri’s probably suitor, Tsu’tey, who looks like the Na’vi Mr. T, and he decides to push Jake’s initiation ceremony. But this only speeds up Jake’s acceptance into the clan, where he proceeds to bed Neytiri in what would be a furry’s wet dream. This doesn’t sit well with the military types, who decide they’ve been patient enough with the Na’vi and decide to blow up Pocahontas’ village. This evolves into an all out war for the planet and it’s very special Tree of Souls.

Pandora itself is a giant rave party. Everything that grows here is either an orgy of fluorescence or has six legs. Even the Na’vi have glowing dots over their face and body.

There are too many stereotypes to name in this film. There is the smarmy junior administration to a multi-million dollar business. There’s the evil grizzled military commander who hates nature and loves war, played by Stephen Lang who seems to always play this part. We also have the native beauty who wins the heart of the hero. Joel Moore, playing Joel Moore, is the pathetic yet lovable sidekick. Michelle Rodriguez plays the tough Hispanic chick, always a winner. There’s the strong female role played by Sigourney Weaver (surprise, surprise. James Cameron hires Sigourney Weaver... again). I could go on. And I will. The Indian scientist, the jealous native suitor, the wise oracle, the clan leader who is also the father of the Beauty, the macho military grunts. It’s all very cliché and uninspired.

This movie goes for 165 minutes. That’s 2 hours and 45 minutes. And not a single original thought occurs that whole time. I half expected to see Tim Curry come in as a villain at some point and sing about ‘toxic love’. This is another spiel in film form about how greedy humans are destroying worlds for their own gain, whether that world is their own or someone else’s. Blah blah blah. We’ve heard all this before.

Overall this was a watchable film. Nothing comes as a surprise, as the plot is predictable from about 0.4 seconds in, but it’s very well executed and just incredibly well done. The environment is beautiful and the wildlife is amazingly thought up and thought through. Things look and move as they should. There was obviously a lot of research that went in to making the world look as alive as possible, and it shows. It does however lose points for constantly hinting at blue tit while never actually showing blue tit. Fucking cocktease.

James Cameron is a brilliant man, and as creative as they come. He wrote and directed one of my favourite film franchises of all time – the Terminator series, by which I mean Terminator and Terminator 2 ONLY. He also wrote and directed Aliens, another incredible film. He seems to have been on the forefront of pushing film technology to its limits. Like George Lucas did with Star Wars and ILM, Cameron has redefined how things can, and probably - in future - will be, done. Terminator 2 will very shortly be celebrating its 20th birthday and it still looks amazing, even by today’s standards. I’ve seen far worse made far more recently. Though he does have a habit of using the same actors over and over again, much like Tim Burton overuses Johnny Depp. Pvt. Vasquez is John Connor’s adoptive mother. Bishop is Det. Hal Vukovich. Cpl. Dwayne Hicks is Kyle Reese. You get the gist of it.

If I had to describe this movie in one sentence, it would be this: FernGully meets Dances with Wolves. But since that isn’t very good (while being pretty accurate) I’ll steal Dave Price’s masterfully constructed thoughts:
“Riveting Rousseauian war-porn, set in a gorgeous hi-def Azerothian CGI landscape, ironically itself a gem of the technological civilization it decries.”

I’m worried now that I have a sexual appetite for 12 foot tall, blue cat-women.

Hannah Montana: The Movie

Clearly two completely different people.

I can’t begin to describe how much I didn’t want to watch this movie. Let’s just say it was a lot, somewhere between incalculable and infinity. But, I’m a man of my word, occasionally, so I sucked it up and sat through it. My life is forever changed.

Our movie opens with Billy Ray Cyrus shaking his head and a look of stern disappointment on his face, and that really sets the tone for the rest of the film. We are then privy to watching Miley Cyrus commit several felonies, including – but not limited to – Grand Theft Golf cart, and proceed to be a snobby bitch for the next twenty minutes.

Seriously Billy Ray, ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ I could forgive, but having Miley Cyrus and NOT aborting when you had the chance is something else entirely. It’s bad enough you haven’t worked since 1992, you’re now cashing in on your daughters fame by starring in her movies and TV series cleverly disguised as “Bobby Ray”. Genius, no one will ever see through that guise. Dickhead.

The plot (or rather what we will jokingly refer to as ‘the plot’) is that Miley has to go to Tennessee for her grandmother’s birthday. Miley, of course, doesn’t want to go to some bum-hick shithole town in the middle of Jesus country to visit her family. She is fooled into going by her achy breaky father and does nothing but piss on about it for a good hour. She refuses to succumb to her hill billy roots and so we are bombarded with country music and hick talk for an unimaginably long time. She makes fun of these small town folk, and they are folk, and southerners in general, and as we all know you shouldn’t pick on retards. This is where we get such classic lines as “don’t squish the squashes”. How do they do it?
After a good talking to from her grandmother Miley starts to realise she was being a stuck up cunt and starts to appreciate her more yokel side. Gingham. Lots of gingham. No one can make this stuff look good. This is where we are subjected to a ‘becoming a hillbilly’ montage. Great.

At some point I reached the halfway mark and needed to take a break. It is at this juncture I realised that if I could somehow blind myself I would be excused from watching anymore. I would rather have my eyes fucked out, with dicks, than be subjected to any more country flair.

There are no surprises in this movie. If you don’t see a plot point developing from 15 minutes ago then I have some bad news for you. You’re either 6 years old or fully fucking retarded. Dribble-on-yourself-in-public retarded. There is naturally a love interest that appears to show no interest, the best friend who knows Miley’s secret and the equal opportunity black mayor. Yes, they claim that the mayor of Crowley Corners, Tennessee is a black man. Dream on Martin Luther, last time I checked this was still the south.

Don’t you just know it, Crowley Corners needs to raise money to save their meadows from corporate America but don’t have any way of raising it in time. Bam! Hannah Montana fundraiser concert. Like I said, the ‘plot’ in this movie was originally written by a kid who still uses safety scissors. Anyway, the dinner with the mayor, which Hannah must attend, just happens to fall on the same night as her dinner with her new crush, and she also must be there. Be in two places at once? As two different people? Without anyone finding out? Asking a fourth question in a row? That sounds like something only Miley Cyrus can do. Like you didn’t see this coming. Then, lo and behold, everything goes wrong and her prospective cunt-stuffer finds out that she’s really Hannah Montana and that he has been duped. Gadzooks!

Of course, they all make it to the concert and Miley admits that she is actually Hannah Montana and then breaks into a completely unrehearsed song and dance number. For a song she had only recently made up. That the band just happens to know. And the back-up dancers just happen to know all the moves to as if it had been previously choreographed, perfectly. The movie ends with everyone in the whole town agreeing to keep her secret identity safe and they continue to sing until the town makes enough money to keep the meadows. Even though the townsfolk are the only ones at the concert. So it would seem they actually did have the money all along. Jerks.

When the world ends there will be only a room. A white room void of everything save an unidentifiable light source. No windows, no chairs and no time. In this room will be the most terrible people in all human history. Gavrilo Princip, Walt Disney, Judas, and the man who decided to make this shit into a movie. There will be no end and no beginning to their punishment.

In the time it took to get through this movie, which looking back seems a lifetime, I took 5 pages of notes. Looking at them now I can see that very little of them is useful material and that the vast majority appears to be gibberish, insane scratches in dead languages not spoken by a human tongue since the time of Christ, written in blood. Blood that we have yet to identify. Some pages are filled with poorly drawn doodles. Some with snippets of clearly formed thought, “Oh God, Billy Ray is singing.” Others yet with just once sentence, repeated again and again until the writing becomes illegible. “Please fuck each other”

This movie is chock full of slap-stick comedy, the lowest known form. The jokes are bad, unintentionally so, and the dialogue is childish and poorly written. And why can no one tell that Hannah Montana looks exactly like Miley Cyrus would with a blonde wig on. Everyone in the whole world is nose-pickingly dumb. Like you’d expect from a shamelessly self plugging movie, the ENTIRE FUCKING SOUNDTRACK is Miley Cyrus. It’s like a constant reminded that you are fucked for the next hour and forty two minutes.

I am certain that this movie was recently discovered after a scholar, working on historical texts, uncovered a previously unknown and thought to be rumoured final page of Dante’s Divine Comedy, the tenth level of Hell. It is an empty cinema, with no popcorn and a broken slushy machine, and the only thing showing is Hannah Montana, over and over again. In High Definition.

“We left him there, and more of him I tell not;
But on mine ears there smote a lamentation,
Whence forward I intent unbar mine eyes.”

Hell Ride

Anyone got some chapstick?

I honestly believe that this movie is responsible for the deaths of two of Hollywood’s most terrible actors. Yes, I know Dennis Hopper died from cancer of the dick, and that David Carradine hung himself in fishnets for kicks in a Thai hotel, but really, it was because they were in this movie. Hopper probably ate plutonium and fucked a nuclear reactor for a month after seeing this movie at its premier, and we all know that Carradine was actually just trying to kill himself and was so embarrassed about starring in ‘Hell Ride’ that he masked his suicide as accidental suffocation “as a result of autoerotic asphyxiation”.

OK, that might be a bit harsh and ruthless, but really, this movie eats crayons and drools on itself. If it were a person it would eat dirt and boogers, and have knitted mittens pinned to it's jacket in Winter. The funny thing is it’s not actually all that bad a movie, from a narrative stand point. It’s just pulled off so poorly. It’s as if someone gave a Mexican a video camera and 700,000 pesos (about US$6.50) and asked him to recreate the history of his country, only with bikers and Americans instead of donkeys and illegal Americans. The acting is just so shitty. I can’t really stress that enough. It’s fucking terrible. Like they picked their cast from a special school for extra special people with poor acting abilities.

Larry Bishop (who actually wrote and directed this massive turd-stain) stars as Pistolero, el president of the Victors biker gang. He talks like he has a terrible head cold while trying to talk about three billion octaves lower than normal. It sounds like Martin Short trying to impersonate Vin Diesel. Anyway, his gang is in a bit of a kerfuffle with another bikey gang called the Six Six Sixers, which sounds about as dangerous as an eight year old girl on a tricycle. They are led by, and I’m not making this up, Vinnie Jones – who pulls off THE SINGLE WORST AMERICAN ACCENT EVER. Worse, it’s a southern accent. Seriously, I can’t watch the scenes with ‘Billy Wings’ in them because it sounds as if they found a deaf Pakistani man who didn’t know any English and asked him to read from the script. My ears bleed just thinking about this. If you thought that Serbia’s ethnic cleansing of Kosovo was an atrocity against man, then you’ve never heard Vinnie Jones try (and I stress try) to pull of being an American. In all honesty, give me Kosovo any day. The Albanians are just lucky this movie hadn’t been made yet.

As I mentioned earlier this sloppy grogan of a film also stars the late and not that great Dennis Hopper as ‘Eddie Zero’, the man with a stupid name and a more stupid jacket. He is a former Victor and old enemy of the corpse formerly known as David Carradine, who plays some badass called ‘The Deuce’, even though he is clearly only one person. Another superstar in this almost blindingly star filled epic is Michael Madsen, who only seems to get work if there is ‘A Band Apart’ film being made. Michael Madsen is shit, and got lucky once in Reservoir Dogs as the lovingly insane Mr. White. In this film he plays ‘The Gent’, a handsome vagabond biker with a love of loose women and of shooting people. And of talking like Michael Madsen. Fuck, who keeps hiring this guy. Michael Madsen is the kind of actor that could have made it big in the 90’s, but didn’t, and we can see why.

The story revolves around a dead native American girl named Chipolata or Jeep Grand Wrangler or - wait... it’s Cherokee – who is killed in 1976 and had a kid or a ‘food stamp maker’ and, well, it gets kind of muddy at this point. But that’s sort of necessary because the story isn’t overly complex. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good, and would have made a fantastic movie if it had been done well. But it wasn’t, so it isn’t.

My manliest man-crush – Tarantino – actually produced this film as, what I can only assume was, a favour owed. There wasn’t enough rape and/or head explosions to really give it that Quentin taste, but it certainly reflects a mix of Kill Bill, From Dusk Till Dawn and Desperado.

Alright, I admit that I may have been unnecessarily harsh on this movie, but it’s just that I see a lot of good and potential overshadowed by a cast of Hollywood’s C grade actors. Really, Vinnie Jones, in the unlikely event that you are reading this I would strongly recommend going to your kitchen, locate the cupboard under the sink, find a bottle with a warning label on it and drink that fucking thing. You disgust me. If you aren’t doing Guy Ritchie films I don’t want to see your Frankenstein-like arse anywhere near my TV. You were my main gripe with this film. Your acting was crap, your accent worse, and everything you did was way over the top. Go back to licking dead cunt, you tinsel faggot.

Dennis Hopper wasn’t actually that bad. Much like in True Romance his character – who gives the best speech about Sicily – Eddie Zero is annoying but likeable. David Carradine does pretty much what he does in Kill Bill, play the cool bad guy in a Texan suit. Both good portrayals on their part, but the characters aren’t going to win awards for originality. I’m sure they just ask Carradine to play himself – a cool bad guy who dies. Maybe it’s from getting shot by Uma Thurman, or maybe it’s dangling from a rope in a hotel wardrobe. In ladies underwear. With an erection. In the world.

Sorry, I was channelling Jeremy Clarkson there. It happens from time to time.

Rounding up, this is a movie you’ll only ever want to watch once. If you can get through once, that is. It’s got action, comedy, manly grit, bikes, tits, guns and David Carradine. Everything you want in a movie. If it had cars it would be Deathrace 2000 all over again. But it’s not.

But it is similarly equal parts awesome and terrible. I’d recommend buying this movie if you see it for under $8 in a discount bin at Go-Lo.

Or steal it. Whichever floats your boat.

The Lost Boys

Hot Corey on Corey action. Radical!

Finally. A movie that is as good now as it was back in late eighties, which is not very.

Here is a prime example, caught on film for all time, of why the 80’s kicked so much arse. I mean, just look at this thing. It’s packed full with rockin’ tunes, radical haircuts and Hawaiian shirts. Gnarly.

In all seriousness though, this is – historically – a very important film. 1987’s The Lost Boys was the first pairing of Corey Feldman and Corey Haim. This dynamic duo, ironically known as ‘the two Coreys’ went on to star in such classics as ‘Dream a Little Dream’, ‘License to Drive’ and the self titled erotic thriller ‘Blown Away’, (not to be confused with the good movie of the same name) three films I know are in your DVD collection. The two Coreys went on to star in something like twelve movies together. Twelve, yes 12, as in ‘more than eleven’. Credit where credit’s due, the scriptwriters managed to fit not one, but two Coreys into TWELVE FUCKING MOVIES. That’s like trying to fit John Goodman into spandex, or Steven Seagal into a movie with a story arc.

I should probably start talking about the movie soon, but really, if you haven’t seen The Lost Boys by now, then you have no concept of culture or the arts and deserve to wait until I have finished my spiel on the two Coreys. Which I have.

The Lost Boys was a milestone in the careers of not only the two Coreys, but also Kiefer Sutherland - who also starred alongside Feldman in Stand By Me the year before. As I sit here writing this, I am holding the DVD in my hand, and you know what? It smells like the future. It smells pristine and almost other-worldly, and in it's reverse side, it's shiny fractal anomaly of an underside, I saw the face of God; my own reflection.

Ok, the movie.

The story revolves around a young boy, Sam Emerson (Haim), who’s family moves to Santa Carla, California from some dirt shithole in Arizona for some undisclosed reason. I think it’s something to do with his mum and dad getting divorced, but it’s hardly essential to the plot. They could have said that a horde of Eric Stoltzes had terrorised Arizona and it wouldn’t have mattered, at least not unless you are Eric Stoltz. Sam decides to hit the town with his older brother (Jason Patric – known only for his roles in Sleepers as a rape victim and Speed 2: Cruise Control as, well, you know what? It doesn’t matter). He finds his way into a comic book store where he meets the brothers Frog (Feldman and some Mexican) who tell him of the plague of vampires that have been harassing the town. It is never explained how these two are experts on vampires and vampirism, only that they read a lot of comics on the subject (which seems to be reasonable enough grounds for the scriptwriter for two kids to have some pretty serious knowledge on the occult and a will to use it). Michael, the older brother, decides to try his luck with some gypsy slut and is unwillingly admitted into the secret vampire clubhouse where the vampire’s gang leader, David (Sutherland), gets them all Chinese take away.

My god, the nerve of those vampires.

Michael slowly turns over the course of the film, much to the dismay of Sam, who has been brainwashed by the Frog brothers’ vampire hating cult into hating vampires (and vampire cults). This whole time their mum has been trying to get some dick off a guy who owns the local video store, Max. While Michael is off floating and eating Chinese food with his vampire buddies, Sam is becoming more and more suspicious of Max, who he thinks is the head vampire. His mum asks Max over for dinner so Sam and the Frog boys decide to help by putting a whole garlic bulb into the parmesan cheese and mirrors all around the house. This plan doesn’t succeed as it turns out Max likes garlic and has a reflection. At this point in the plot, Michael begins to fly a lot and the vampires eat a group of ‘surf nazis’. Star, the gypsy slut, tells Michael that she, too, is a vampire and that David wanted Michael to be her first kill. This makes him very cross and he decides to help his brother and the Frogs by leading them to the vampires’ super secret base. They go to the ruins of an old hotel and find the vampires... hanging from the roof. Yes, they actually did this. Anyway, here they manage to kill a vampire named Marko (who is actually Alex Winter of Bill and Ted fame. Man, this movie has everyone in it). Marko’s girlish cries awaken the other vampires (who look like rejects from an Adam and the Ants audition) and the group barely escapes.

That night the vampires attack Sam and Michael at their house, but unbeknownst to them, the boys, and the Frogs, are ready for them. They set about killing vampires with an unhealthy efficiency that would make polish labour workers look slack. Stakes, holy water bubble baths and even a mounted bucks head are all used as arsenal in this epic battle of good against evil. David and Michael cross swords and it turns out Michael’s is bigger. David is killed, but none of the vampires transform back to normal people, as the expected. This is a problem, because their mum is about to get home and they now have a house filled with the newly dead. Luckily for them though, their mum arrives home with Max, who is actually the head vampire, and who was trying to shag their mum to convert her to a vampire too so that she could be a mother to his ‘lost boys’.
Oh shit, did you see what they did there? Smooth.

At this point Sam’s hill billy grandpa crashes his jeep through the living room wall, causing a fence post to impale Max in the heart. Max dies, the vampires are transformed back into regular people and grandpa casually gets a beer from the fridge, proclaiming, “One thing about living in Santa Carla I never could stomach...all the damn vampires". The movie ends on a high note, with a bit of a chuckle at grandpa’s massive understatement of the situation and life goes on better than before... Except now they have a house filled with freshly dead PEOPLE, not vamps. How the fuck do they intend to explain a half dozen mutilated bodies to the police? Talk about a plot hole.

This movie is a mix of shit and win, as hard as that is to imagine. It’s cheesy and tragically 80’s, but is one of those movies that has become something else. It is fondly remembered by entire generations of people, who then remember it un-fondly when they watch it again. It is definitely something you have to see before you die. The soundtrack is bodacious and the fashion is hilarious.

Thankfully we are now graced with not one, but two sequels. And do you know what? Corey fucking Feldman is back in both of them. Who cares if he hasn’t worked since 1992, the guy is fucking a playboy model on a regular basis. He is my idol. Cool Corey. They also managed to sign on Angus Sutherland for the first sequel. Yes, Angus, the younger half-brother of big shot Kiefer. Holy shit, how do they sleep at night? And who the fuck is Angus Sutherland? His only claim to fame was being a hot cum load from his infinitely more famous father Donald (who funnily enough also played a vampire in the made for TV Rob Lowe epic – Salem’s Lot)

Kiefer will always be my Sutherland.

From Dusk Till Dawn

Danny Trejo angry! Danny Trejo smash!

I’ve rambled on in the past about my obsession with Quentin Tarantino. I use the term ‘obsession’ here to describe my fantasies where we skip, hand in hand, through a golden field of knee-high wheat, the sun setting at our backs and the wind blowing through out hair. “Oh Quentin”, I would whisper as he gently massaged my shoulders. I’d wrap my arms about his waist and hold on tightly as we rode a white stallion along a sun-kissed beach. The smell of the salt water invigorating us as he lays me down onto the sand and kisses me deepl...

I think you’re getting the gist here.

1996’s From Dusk Till Dawn has it all, hot cars, hotter women, plenty of tit and, the current flavour of the month with thirteen year old girls (it’s not me, unfortunately), vampires! These vampires, however, are real fucking vampires. They don’t sparkle, they don’t ponce around with were-poofs and they don’t fuck animals (unless you count Kristen Stewart). No. These vampires will ruin your shit at the drop of a sombrero, because these vampires – like 40% of the United States’ work force – are Mexican.

George Clooney stars as Seth Gecko, a recently escaped criminal and full time bad-ass who, along with his sex-offending brother Richard Gecko (Tarantino), must make it across the border into Mexico to meet with their contact and establish a new life south of the border. In their way is the US border patrol and a shit storm of Texas Rangers, Walker not included. Seth ‘acquires’ the help of Jacob Fuller (Harvey Keitel), an ex-minister who hates God and now travels across the country in a motor-home with his Chinese son and sweet little daughter (Juliette Lewis).
Jacob gets them all across the border into Taco land where they are to meet their contact in a trucker bar called the ‘Titty Twister’. They sit down for a few drinks to pass the time while waiting for Carlos and watch the gorgeous Salma Hayek do a very erotic dance when shit suddenly goes all kinds of bad. All Hell breaks loose, literally, and our rag-tag band of unlikely heroes must survive until dawn.

Directed by Robert Rodriguez, best known for his desperado trilogy and the unfortunate Spy Kids series, this movie has his usual Tarantino appearance, granted a much bigger appearance than usual. In Planet Terror he was a rapist, in Desperado he was a drug cartel’s errand boy and in this film he is, as previously stated, one hell of a sex offender. Also, as always with Rodriguez’s films, you can expect to see Danny Trejo and Cheech Marin – apparently Mexico’s chief export – who plays at least 3 different roles. Are these two guys the only male actors in all of Me-hee-co? Or did all the other actors already jump the border?
Also appearing from other Rodriguez movies are special-effects legend Tom Savini as ‘Sex Machine: the man with a crotch gun’, the ‘destined to always play a Texas Ranger’ Michael Parks as a Texas Ranger and, finally, ‘front-man for Tito and the Tarantulas’ Tito Larriva as Tito Larriva, front-man for Tito and the Tarantulas. Surprisingly we also see John Hawkes, that Jew from Deadwood. But that’s another story.

Ok, so I’ve covered the premise here, but what about the cast? Well, the cast is fantastic. Harvey Keitel is like a fucking god, so cool and collected. The man just drips with grizzled bitterness and a distinct lack of being an emotion-showing pussy. George Clooney is a rebel, the kind that sets women’s loins afire with sweet passion. He plays the part of this hard-arse crim with a solid set of principles that he doesn’t break for anyone, and he pulls it off very well. Quentin Tarantino’s character scares the shit out of me. He’s sick in the head and with annoying little brother syndrome and he is a source of many a chuckle of the ‘humor negro’ variety. Also, how fucking weird is that guy’s head? It’s like a weather balloon ran into the back of his head when he was a kid and just decided to stay there. I mean, shit, his forehead looks like it could fit a second pair of eyes with room to spare. Christ man, wear a hat at the very least. That shit is distracting.

The props department came up with a fantastic array of vampire fighting weapons and tools for this film. We see a holy water super soaker, holy water condom water bombs, a pump action crossbow and, my personal favourite, a jackhammer-based auto staker. You’ll have to see this baby in action to truly appreciate its vampire killing capabilities. Also, as previously mentioned, you will see a crotch gun. This consists of a black leather cod piece which hides single barrel, twin cylinder revolver style set up where the two cylinders sit just below, and to either side, of the six inch barrel. Why would anyone wear this? Who designed it? These are all valid questions to which I have only one answer. Tom Savini.

To sum things up neatly, this is a fantastic movie which I strongly feel belongs in the cult section of any video store. It has everything you could want all wrapped up in one tasty package. And while it’s kind of horror, it’s kind of comedy and it’s certainly kind of action, I can’t just stick one label on it and be satisfied. It’s all of them and so much more. It’s a film made for fun by people who enjoy what they do. It’s made for them as much as it’s made for the fans. It’s a little nod of a tribute to the B grade horror movies of the 80’s and 90’s. It is almost worth watching entirely just to for the line "What's in Mexico?" "Mexicans." and to hear George Clooney refer to himself and Quentin as "a couple of real mean motor scooters". Fuck, did he just say that shit? What a bad dude he is. I loved this cult classic, but then I love George A. Romero films too.

If you asked me of my personal opinion about this film, and let’s face it – you are – I would describe it as “rockin’”. Watching this movie caused my dick to grow sideburns and made my beer 26% more delicious. I give it four and a half burritos out of a possible five enchiladas.
This movie has something that the whole family can enjoy, especially if your whole family like vampires, gore and tits.

I’d take my mum to go see it. You might not want to take my mum, she’s pretty judgemental.

Kick-Ass

Give me 9mm, and make it hurt.

Bear with me here folks. My vocabulary may not be all it could be right now, I’m still reeling from the tremendous blow that this movie gave my bean bag. It’s as if someone crept into my room at night with some sort of brain scanning equipment and recorded a combination of my greatest dreams and darkest sexual fantasies, because that is what I just watched; a twelve-year-old girl in a schoolgirl outfit – complete with piggy tails – crying tears and then shooting the shit out of a group of Mafioso men. Is this a common male fantasy, or is it just me and Roman Polanski?

Now, I’ve not read the comics that this fine piece of film history was based on, but I am terribly interested to now, though I hear the film differs from them on a few key points. Honestly though I don’t give a fuck. I couldn’t give half a fuck, even had I procured several free fucks to give, and I was paid to pass them out, like coupons to a pizza place down the road, while I stood on the corner dressed as a giant pizza with my array of toppings spelling out the word 'fuck' in black, overcooked letters stinking of pickled olives. That’s about as little as I care that it differs, because if it’s even 1/8th as awesome as the film adaptation was then it will be what I like to call ‘Rad-to-the-Max’, or ‘Radical-to-the-maximum’, for those of you who aren’t down with abbrev’s.

I had the chance to sit down and watch this today with a dear, dear someone-who-was-here-at-the-time, and I’ll tell you, we were almost wet with perspiration and lactate. I had to change my pants three times and my jumper once. He had to change his shoes as well, and it’s best not to ask why. Let’s just say that we were both a bit too involved and far too pumped, and too ill-prepared for the results of such a sexually charged concoction of manliness and radical.

I’m not going to sit here and give out spoilers or plot points to this movie. Mainly because I really can’t be fucked writing it out for you, but also because I don’t want to give away anything this sick-fest has to offer. All I am prepared to say is that if you haven’t watched this movie them you may be a homosexual. I’m just saying that if you don’t want to go and watch this film right now then there is an increased risk of you putting a dick in your mouth like you’re sucking on a 9mm in preparation for blowing your brains out all over the wall. Except the load you’ll be taking won’t be lead-based.

I will say that it is a super-hero movie with a near self aware, knocking on the fourth wall kind of attitude. It makes reference to super heroes as being comic book fantasies and purposely crushing the vengeance driven vigilante stereotype. It’s a story about a kid who’s just had enough of the shit, and is tired of being one of those people who just watch, and don’t act, when witnessing a crime. There is a lot of the movie's story that is based around this concept of a hero who is just a normal guy. No super powers, no billionaire trust fund development teams, no murdered parents. It makes a few jokes about conventional comic book heroes like Spiderman, Batman and Superman, and that these characters even exist in the films universe is funny to think about. There’s even the line “The difference between Peter Parker and Spiderman? Spiderman gets the girls.” So it’s hard to tell if this movie is fully aware that it’s based on a comic, or if it’s all just some clever ‘this shit will freak their minds’ kind of homage. Either way, it’s just having fun with it.

There is so much fighting captured on film here, and it’s done extraordinarily well. Usually with a fight scene the editor has an epileptic fit and all we are given is a hastily cut, mish-mash of half-second shots of faces and fists, and occasionally you’ll see the two connect. But in Kick-Ass the direction is as good as the editing. We see whole fights lasting minutes at a time. We see heads explode as .45 ACP rounds exit the skull in an eruption of colour and mist. We see people getting their shit righteously fucked up, with broken limbs and stab wounds aplenty. It is arousing to say the least.

The casting was done well. The main character is a reasonably unknown actor and it works to the films advantage of having an ordinary boy as the main star. Chloe Mortez, the little ninja on steroids, is fantastic as Hit-Girl. She has the mouth of an angel and the vocabulary of a trucker, and would get Woody Allen very arrested. And I never thought I’d see the day when I wanted Nicolas Cage to get more screen time. Seriously, how fucked up is that? I actually enjoyed him so much I needed more, and like a junkie looking to score a fix, I put Gone in 60 Seconds in my DVD player and cried myself into a near comatose state. His acting career is like a teenage girl’s mood swings. Snake Eyes, up. The Wicker Man, down. 8MM, up. Ghost Rider, very down. More down that a person with Down’s, whom I’m told, are really super down, bringing new meaning to the hit song ‘Get Low’.

So, my verdict is this. Go and see this fucking movie you commie wuss, because if you haven’t gone to see this ‘Buffet of Win and Epic’ then the only conceivable reason is that you were too fucking busy getting a manicure. And if you have seen it, see it again Princess. My friend saw it three times in the cinema and now he looks like Gung-Ho from the G. I. Joe cartoon. His dick has grown a moustache and he eats iron bars with milk for breakfast. I’m envious of his unbridled manliness.

Kick-Ass kicks so much arse it needs to wear specially designed gum-boots and uses bowels as socks.

Postal

Uwe Boll being... well... Uwe Boll.

I don’t really know what to make of this movie. Is it trying to be an action film? Is it trying to have some sort of subtle political satire? Is it really just this shit? Well, it’s an Uwe Boll film, so the answers to those questions are ‘Maybe’, ‘Probably’ and ‘Yes’ respectively, although the word ‘subtle’ doesn’t seem to be in this movies vocabulary.

If you don’t know who Uwe Boll is then, apart from being an idiot, you are ignorant of the plight of the videogame-to-film adaptations scene. Boll is a self-titled genius and possibly the worst thing to ever come out of Germany since Volkswagen’s Kombi. Honestly I’d rather watch the whole Holocaust on DVD than see another Uwe Boll videogame adaptation. Seriously, this guy has so much in common with Joseph Goebbels that it’s scary. German? Check. Director? Check. Anti-Semite? Probably. Perpetrator of some of the most horrifying atrocities to man ever witnessed by humanity? Definitely.

He had an online petition put against him to stop him from making any new movies, which was sponsored by stride gum (see www.stopuweboll.org). When he expressed interest in directing the Warcraft movie Blizzard told him they didn’t want him anywhere near it. If none of this is ringing any bells, then fret not. You may have seen one of his highly polished turds of a film and not realised it was indeed his. Stop me if any of these sound familiar. (Of course don’t literally try to stop me by talking to your monitor or anyone watching you might think you’re one of those crazy types.)
• House of the Dead
• BloodRayne
• Alone in the Dark
• Dungeon Siege

Yes, they should sound familiar, mostly because they were once proud and noble games (with the exception of House of the Dead, which always sucked dog balls) until Uwe got his hands on the licenses. He once challenged his 5 worst critics to a boxing match and won. All 5, back-to-back, undefeated. Now, I know I’ve gotten way off track; I just need you to understand the kind of person we’re dealing with. An Officer and a Gentleman... I mean a Krout and a Mad-man.

Well, for a change let’s talk about the movie. Boll is infamous for shitty movies, so it came as a very pleasant surprise when I watched Postal and, not only couldn’t stop laughing, but I couldn’t stop re-watching it. Postal is a bit of an eye opener the first time round. The game it’s based on is shocking (and terribly fun) by itself, but with Uwe’s vision it became something else entirely. Racism is rampart, with all convenience store owners being labelled as both Middle Eastern and terrorist sympathisers. Hate crimes are shown in a comical, rose-coloured light. A fat lady gets flour thrown on her so that her yokel lover can ‘find the wet spot.’ It’s all very over the top and very out of its mind.

The Film is all very tongue-in-cheek, with Uwe Boll making a cameo as himself, the owner of ‘Little Germany’ (formerly Little Holland), an amusement park with such attractions as Hasselhoff’s Sausage Haus, Dr. Mengele’s First Aid Station and Concentration Camp Playground. Every German stereotype in one place. He has such lines as “You know, because there are all those rumours out there that my films are financed with Nazi gold; and what should I say? It’s true. But somebody must do something with the money” and “I get a little horny here on stage sometimes, if you see the crowd and all the children...” Vince Desi, creator of the Postal video game, also makes a cameo appearance as himself and starts a fight with Uwe on stage, stating that he ruined his game with this shitty movie. This movie doesn’t just break the fourth wall; it takes a shit on it.

The game has little to no plot whatsoever, so it’s no surprise that the movie has even less of one. Osama Bin Laden, a Jonestown-esque cult, corrupt cops, suicide bombings, George W. Bush and a midget. Like I said, it’s an hour and a half of insanity and insensitivity. There is no line it won’t cross, no taboo too taboo, no depravity it won’t sink to and no joke tasteless enough for this outstanding addition to the underappreciated cinematic genre of... well as best as I can reckon it, it’s an action/comedy film, but I don’t think that is quite enough to fully encapsulate what this film is about. It is probably one of the more offensive movies out there; it’s self aware, self hating and surprisingly good. It’s all done so well, like a coy little girl, giving you those longing looks. Sure, her mouth might not say no, but her lust-filled eyes say ‘rough me up, daddy.’

I wouldn’t recommend inviting your mum around to watch this with you, but I would recommend six of your best mates and a six-pack of your favourite brew. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you might even vomit a little bit. But you will come out the other end a far richer person that you were. Or you might come out a sobbing mess of jabbering... it’s a fifty/fifty.

If you find yourself strangely interested or disbelieving about Uwe Boll and how mental he really is, I invite you to check him out on wiki. Honestly, you won’t even be able to guess half the shit he’s done and said. Your mortal mind cannot even fathom it.

If you’re reading this Uwe I’d just like to say that I’m flattered, and please don’t beat me up.

Clash of the Titans

Perseus brings things to a head. Zing!

If I were to sum this movie up into two words, they would be: moderately epic. Not awesomely epic, or even suitably epic, which is a bit of a let-down to how massively pumped I was to go and see it. I’m not saying it was a bad movie. Far from it – I really enjoyed it. But it just wasn’t up to the standard that the trailer set. I’ll attempt to explain this disappointment to you using my words, like my counsellor told me to, and not with death threats to Gary Coleman.

This remake of Clash of the Titans is directed by Louis Leterrier, previously known for such skid-marks on the underpants of cinema as The Incredible Hulk - an incredibly painful viewing experience, Transporter 2 – which failed in every way to live up to the first of the now Transporter trilogy, and Unleashed – which is actually a fucking great movie.

I can’t say a bad word about the cast though, except for Sam Worthington – whose accent made me feel like I was watching neighbours or some shit. I wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to be half the time. It certainly wasn’t Greek though, more like a horrid impersonation of Nick Giannopoulos in the Wog Boy. Anyway, the characters were passionate and enjoyable, hell I even liked most of them. The parts were played well and the dialogue was, for the most part, delivered with gusto.

Liam Neeson was the perfect choice for Zeus, you know, except for the whole Greek god talking like an Irishman thing, and shone resplendently in his burnished armour. The secret to Liam’s almost blinding levels of ‘shininess’ was that the director asked him to assume his true form, which is ironically, that of a God. He was so majestic I couldn’t even look at him. Much like an eclipse I had to sneak in a shoebox with a pinhole cut into it just to be able to watch his scenes in safety. And that beard, it was like a dense fog hanging low on a Scottish moor.

But enough about real Demigods.

One actor you may not be entirely familiar with, but who stole most of the show, was Mads Mikkelsen. No, I’m not making that name up, he’s Danish. He came to fame outside of Denmark as ‘Le Chiffre’ in Casino Royale (with cheese), and is rumoured to be appearing in his own sitcom opposite Helen Hunt called “Mads About You”. That I may have made up. He was amazing in this role though, all grizzled and hardened, like a slab of granite that’s been worn down by wind and rain and rudimentary cutting implements. A far cry from how he appeared in Casino Royale.

The casting of Liam Neeson as Zeus and Ralph Fiennes as Hades wasn’t by coincidence I feel. I’ve been writing letters to Warner Brothers for years saying that they should make a movie where those two actors star as nemeses... nemesii... whatever. I’d call it “Qui-gon Jin Vs Voldemort”, which is basically what Clash of the Titans was, except with more blokes with hairy dicks running around in skirts. Ok, so it’s like a gay fan-fic of my idea.

Another member of the cast I’d like to talk about is Pete Postlethwaite. Apart from being one of Hollywood’s more ugly actors, this guy is about as British as it gets. I mean, really, Pete Postlethwaite? Why not just name him Lord Britishton Wellington Reginald Luxworthe Pompadour III and be done with it?

I went to see this movie in 3D. I’ve never been to a 3D movie before, so I didn’t really know what to expect, except three dimensions I suppose. I don’t know about the rest of you, but personally I found the 3D aspect of this film unnecessary and in some parts downright confusing. Now I’ve read that this is because the movie wasn’t filmed intentionally to be viewed in 3D, but rather was edited post-production to accommodate it. Either way I would much rather see this film in 2D. There was just too much happening on screen at times to be able to see any of it clearly, and I think it detracted a lot from the film. I found myself turning my 3D glasses around to see if they were broken, but after a few strange and stern looks from my male accomplice, assumed that this wasn’t correct procedure. I did find myself taking them off every now and then though, but after a while my eyes sort of adjusted and it wasn’t as disjointed.

This movie isn’t just going to get my praise though, oh no. I’ve got a bone or two to pick with it. First off, for a movie called “Clash of the Titans” there is a distinct lack of Titans. I suppose “The Clash” was already taken though. Really, there are no Titans in this film. I know it’s a remake, but it’s been about 13 years since I saw the original so I can’t vouch for it, but this film has no titans. Medusa? Not a Titan. The Kraken? Not a Titan. That annoying kid from “About a Boy”? Not a Titan. So, basically, needs more Titan. I did love the Bubo cameo though. Crazy robot owl.

Another gripe, although this one is probably really only for males, is the lack of tits. Yep, that’s right. No tits. Not even a tit, like they’re too good to even give us one. Even though Cassiopeia gets her bangers out in Rome, Greece apparently didn’t cut it. But you know what they say, ‘when in Rome’.

At the end of the day it’s a good movie. I mean, it’s not going to win any awards for... well, for anything really. But it was enjoyable, and very worthy of a bro-ish fist-pump of epic proportions. Hell, I even threw in the explosion draw-back finale to the fist-pump. It’s unoriginal, uninspired and uncoordinated, but fuck me sideways, is it ever awesome. It’s been called a CGI mess by some in the media, but then... it’s all Greek to me.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans

Nicolas Cage - acting like a dickhead.

First off, what the fuck is with this title? Have you ever seen a movie title with more punctuation? This shit required the shift and alt keys just to type. The only movie I was able to find with a more obnoxious title was “The Fearless Vampire Killers, Or: Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are In My Neck”, but that was a Roman Polanski film, so what did you really expect... except maybe some kids tied to the radiator in his basement. God you people make me sick, especially you Polanski you filthy Pole. I mean the paedophilia I can forgive, but this movie’s title? No, you deserve the chair for that one.

Back to the point.

This movie’s shit-itude doesn’t just stop with the title, oh no; it’s riddled with tumours of failure and terribleness like a citizen of Pripyat circa 1986.

Here is a shortlist of problems I have compiled for your ease:
1. Nicolas Cage is in it.
2. Nicolas Cage’s wig looks like he stapled a few merkins to his head.
3. Nicolas Cage doesn’t have any sideburns.
4. Random, unexplained cutaways – shot with a crappy handheld camera – that seem to always be about reptiles. Why reptiles? Is it some clever hint towards a greater plot point I hear you say... No. They are just lizards.
5. Val Kilmer is fat.
6. Xzibit is in it. (‘X gonna give it to ya’ eh? Well the only thing he gave me was the dire need to shit, and shit violently.)
7. Bad writing. The script for this movie was probably originally written in crayon... on coloured paper.
8. There is some guy who says ‘Oh Yeah!’ like a billion times. Even when it isn’t appropriate.

What the fuck is with those cutaways. Was it meant to be artsy? Why is there a dead alligator on the road and then a live alligator just a bit off the road? Why is he constantly seeing iguanas? Fuck this movie, and fuck Nicolas Cage.

These are just some of the problems one encounters when watching this ‘farthouse’ movie. It’s also a very hard movie to label. It was too stupid to be drama, and to serious to be comedy. There are some bits which are amusing, but these are few and far between, and only really when Nicolas Cage does a heap of crack. During the course of the film he does an incredible amount of coke, heroin, crack, weed and other such substances. He yells at old people, cuts off a paralysed woman’s oxygen supply, buys, sells and deals drugs, pimps a whore, blackmails an athlete and – the most awful crime of them all – saves a Mexican man from drowning, all while hobbling around like a fucking cripple.

The plot is dragging, and seems to be forgotten after about 15 minutes only to pop up again at the very end like a dead child bobbing lifelessly in a pool. You could go and do something more important in the middle – like eat an endangered species – and still not miss a beat. It is set in New Orleans post Hurricane Katrina, and you can really see what a shithole it is. No wonder God saw fit to lay waste to that cesspit. There isn’t really a lot of racism in the film for such a setting. Although the black people are pretty racist, calling Cage a ‘Caucasian’ at one point. Lo! The nerve of those animals!

I don't know if this was a remake/sequel to 1992’s Bad Lieutenant with Harvey Keitel, but if it is it fails in all respects to be anywhere near as good. Cage just can’t hold a candle to Keitel. He’s just so raw and masculine, like Charles Bronson but with less moustache.

I honestly recommend you avoid this film like you would West Africa. Though if you’re a masochist, then yeah, it’s probably your thing. I’d personally rather sit through root canal surgery while being force fed snakes, rectally. But if you absolutely feel the need to watch every single Nicolas Cage movie ever then go for it. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. This movie is dicks.

Full Metal Jacket

Joker and Animal Mother.

First off, if you are here for a satirical review, then today’s not your day. There is no way I can make fun of this movie, or what it stands for. It’s just too powerful.

This movie is, without a doubt, one of the greatest Vietnam War movies ever made. Not because it glosses over the horrors of combat, or highlights the patriotism of the American G.I., but for quite the opposite. That it shows how hard life is in the military in times of war and in training, showcasing just some of the atrocities that took place in Vietnam during American occupation, the murders and rapes and A.W.O.L soldiers doing as they please. It’s hard hitting approach and gritty realism is what makes it such an incredible film. You don’t really watch this movie, you experience it.

This was the film that brought a lot of actors into the limelight. Adam Baldwin - the only Baldwin I ever loved - got his first big break as Animal Mother, Vincent D’Onofrio of Criminal Intent fame started out his pathetic acting career here too alongside Matthew Modine, and while it wasn’t R. Lee Ermey’s first role, it is definitely his best known. The film was based on the novel ‘The Short-Timers’ by Gustav Hasford, a novel with the motto “Forget all the myths about honour and glory...this is the real war.” Stanley Kubrick, a man who is no stranger to controversy or wiping away the veneer of society to reveal the rot that takes place underneath, stepped up to write and direct this cinematic masterpiece, and I don’t think they could have found anyone better suited for the job. The man was a genius, though a little ahead of his time I think.

What is it with Adam Baldwin that he can take effeminate names like Jane, Casey and Mother and make them the manliest, most grizzled names in the world? The guy has a face chiselled from granite by Apollo himself.

The film revolves around Private Joker, a new recruit in the United States Marine Corps, and how he sees and experiences the trials of training and the conflict in Vietnam. The name of the film comes from 7.62 millimetre full metal jacket, the type of bullet used in the M14 rifles that the marines are issued. The first half of the film is set on ‘the Island’, a real USMC training facility located on Parris Island, South Carolina. Here we see how hard the world of the Marine Corps really is - the hazing, the physical training and the physical and emotional punishment. It’s really a ‘make or break’ environment. The relationships formed here, the brotherhood as they call it, is heavily played on later in the film, so it has its place.

The second half is set in Vietnam, where Pvt. Joker is now working as a military journalist for ‘Stars and Stripes’, an American propaganda magazine. Stationed in Da Nang, we see a city rife with prostitution, exploitation and thieves. The reporters sit around the barracks at night telling stories or lying about when they were in combat, or ‘in the shit’ as they call it, talking of how it fucks with your head giving you ‘the thousand yard stare’. Shortly after this the NVA, affectionately known as Charlie, break the Tet Holiday cease-fire and attack U.S military bases across Vietnam. Joker, along with Rafterman, are sent into the field to meet up with Hotel 2-5 company and assist in securing a village south of the Perfume river. Here Joker finds Cowboy, a friend from the island, and Animal Mother, a blood thirsty, gung-ho marine. The group are pinned down by an enemy sniper in an industrial zone and are stuck without tank support.

I won’t give away anymore, but it’s all essential to the story. Joker makes an ironic statement by wearing a peace pin on his body armour while having ‘Born to kill’ written on his helmet. He claims that it represents the duality of man, the yin-yang concept. This is a concept that is demonstrated in many ways throughout the film, both obviously and subtly, making it a poignant topic.

People will have their own opinions of this film and its messages, but no one will argue that it is a deeply affecting film, strong in both message and imagery, and one of the greatest war films ever made. If you haven’t seen this movie yet, I’d strongly recommend doing so.

It’s a classic.

The Fifth Element

Bruce's giant head chasing cop cars in space.

You’d better believe its taking all my will power to not make a Captain Planet reference here. Fuck it, Heart is not an element you green-mulleted cunt. Fuck off with this pussy power. Fire is badass and Earth is pretty cool too, but heart? I call bullshit on your obviously false periodic table.

I don’t know what to make of the fact that the scene I remember most in this film is an elderly professor yelling “Aziz! Light!” A lot of people I’ve spoken to about this film seem to remember this scene well, but few seem to be able to recall the very next scene where a giant spaceship lands outside the dig site in Egypt. This looks like nothing so much as a giant turd being shat out of the sky onto the desert plains below; no doubt a hard hitting metaphor for the current state of politics in the middle east.

This movie is still - visually - very good looking, even though it is currently – like my ex girlfriend – celebrating its 13th birthday. It’s amusing to see these days just how much modern cinema depends on CGI when only 10 years ago they made do with what they had and only digitally added what they couldn’t possibly do for real with a camera, a few egg cartons and a box of watercolours. Yes, James Cameron, I’m looking at you. How could you make two of the greatest sci-fi films in the last 20 years (Aliens and Terminator 2) with minimal CGI and then turn around and make the digital shit-fest that is Avatar – a film containing about 12 frames of actual film.

Ok, back to the movie at hand.

The story is that every 5000 years three planets align and have synchronised solar eclipses... eclipsii? I don’t think there is a collective noun for that yet. Anyway, these events create a gateway to another dimension, or some shit, and an evil is released into the universe with the sole intent on eradicating all life in favour of death and evil and black rimmed glasses and My Chemical Romance concerts. Naturally there is only one man who can save us and the universe from this bleak future. A man so close to the status of demi-god that he needs his own paragraph:

Bruce - motherfucking - Willis.

Willis plays Korben Dallas, an ex-military cab driver with a bad attitude and a problem with ‘Johnny Law’. Now, every hero needs a villain, so we have Gary Oldman on hand as Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg, some Frenchy pinko queer with a stupid surname and the evil head of a weapons conglomerate who is working for the evil ball of naughtiness that is invading the universe. Zorg hires a group of alien mercenaries, who look like the brown love-children of Willem Dafoe and John C. Reilly, to shoot down a space craft which is transporting 4 stones which are the key to defeating the darkness and retrieve said stones.

The only survivor of the crashed spaceship is Leeloo (Milla Jovovich), a feisty little redhead who is the perfect being, the fifth element and a very snappy dresser. She lands in the lap of Korben who is then hired by the military to help secure the 4 stolen stones, only they weren’t stolen and are secretly being transported inside a big blue woman dressed in a big blue burqa.

I probably should have said at the start that there may be spoilers, but honestly if you haven’t seen a 13 year old movie with Bruce Willis in it then that’s your own damn fault.

Anyway, the rest of the movie is pretty predictable. Bruce Willis kills a lot of people and blah, blah, blah the end. It’s really not important to go on from here. What is important, however, is that this movie was and still is so awesome, even though – much like a child in multiple system failure – it’s got some pretty severe disabilities.

First off it stars Luke Perry. Yes, the Luke Perry; who’s triumphs after his 90210 career include the made-for-TV classics like: Indiscreet and The Enemy. Yes Luke, you clearly made it on your own, and weren’t carried on the back of a long dead TV series like a sad jockey flogging a dead horse at all.

Secondly we have Chris Tucker, who does what he does in every movie he’s ever been in, and screams in that high pitched ‘girl in distress’ tone that he has the whole fucking time he’s on screen. Man, I don’t know how that guy keeps getting employed. Didn’t anyone at New Line Cinema watch Rush Hour and go, “I don’t think his acting skills are as good as everyone seems to think”. And why does he have a bleach-blonde dick growing out of his head the entire movie? Who thought that was a great look?

And lastly there is lee Evans, who won our hearts as that crippled guy in There’s Something About Mary, and as the straight guy from Mousehunt. How did they hire such a brilliant actor and screenwriter, whose writing credits are all for shows starting with “Lee Evans:” or “The World of Lee Evans”. How big must his ego be that he thinks his life so important and interesting that no 1 show could possible encompass all you have to offer to humanity, so you write 8... about yourself... written by yourself. I’m starting to think that the only person to find Lee Evans funny is Lee Evans.

At the end of the day, and despite its many faceted and flawed surface, this movie shines like a diamond... in a big dog poo, poking its glittering head out at the narrower end, the ‘pinched’ end, that’s always full of hair for some reason. It’s good, and I’d definitely go out of my way to prise it free from its faecal housing as it is certainly worth a watch; and an enjoyable one too. But I’d still get poop on me for picking it up.

Is it just me or did everyone want to bone Milla Jovovich badly after this film? Leeloo Dallas, Multipass. Yeah, a multipass to my dick! Am I right?

I give it 6 'Lee Evans Live' shows out of 8.

(Why is it that the only words my spell check told me weren’t real words were: Jovovich, Korben and Burqa. Oh, Bill Gates, you sly old dog you.)

The Boondock Saints

Pure, uncut awesome.

I sat down to watch this movie after a shower and a shave and got up after the credits with a full beard, 3 wives and a drinking problem.

If you have never seen or even heard of this movie then what the fuck are you doing with your life because, seriously, you’re not spending it doing anything worthwhile – like watching Boondock Saints. Now, before you go and have a woman-poof about this, I know the official title is ‘The Boondock Saints’, but in my opinion the word ‘the’ – throughout all of history – has never done anything good enough to make it worthy of being associated with this awesome-fest of a film. ‘The’ can go and fuck itself with a hose; it will always just be ‘Boondock Saints’ to me.

The movie starts with Irish music (get used to it) and two stone-jawed men working in an abattoir and spending their nights drinking and starting fights. But hey, it IS St. Patricks Day after all (like you didn’t see that coming). We get about 74 seconds in before a massive dyke comes on screen, has a whinge about men and gets punched in the fucking mouth. Oh, fuck yeah. This is the definitive point in the movie when you know shit’s about to get wicked. Then, just as you thought you might recover – BAM – sassy gay cop.

Willem Dafoe should have got 7 Oscars and a free sample of fabric softener for this role. I’ve never seen anyone manly enough to fuck a guy in the arse and then have the ability to – completely sincerely and straight faced - call the receiver a fag when he wants to cuddle afterwards. His on screen presence is powerful, from reading the crime scenes, and having it re-enacted around him, to dressing up like a woman and shooting some dago wops in the face and dispensing gay jokes like they were going out of fashion. Honestly, it’s worth buying this movie just to see him. His character is so intense he feels the need to pull his gun out and fire a few shots off into the air WHILE AT A CRIME SCENE.

So basically the story goes that two Irish brothers go ‘Batman with an Uzi’ style vigilante on any mobster scum, drug dealing thugs or murder-rapists they can find, gunning them down then praying that god takes their souls to hell, but not without giving them bus fare first. Agent Smecker (Dafoe) discovers their identities but, instead of arresting them, helps them evade police capture and even assists in orchestrating their big finale.

Billy Connolly makes an appearance as a psychotic hit-man with a penchant for shooting goodfellas and smoking massive cigars. What kind of person straps 6 pistols to their chest? And what’s with that guy’s accent. It sounds like he’s mixing cement somewhere in the back of his throat.

Owning this movie will make everything in your life better. Your girlfriend will be hotter and her tits will grow at least 2 cup sizes, guaranteed. Your car will do burnouts for 3 days and your dick will get so big you’ll have to wear it like a fashionable scarf.

This movie came out 11 years ago to an audience not yet prepared for it, so it wallowed in obscurity for a few years before rising to the widely known cult film it is today. It wasn’t until 10 years after this film’s release that a sequel was announced. All I can say is that the next movie has got some big shoes to fill.

This movie is a combination of racial slurs, action and Ron Jeremy (yes, he’s in this movie too).The Paddy accents are sometimes a bit forced, sounding as graceful and flowing as a one-legged retard down a flight of wonky stairs.. in an earthquake. It’s a classic underdog/vigilante story that, while not being original, is certainly an entertaining twist that most people will enjoy.

If you don’t yet own this film, buy it. Now. Go now. I’m dead fucking serious.

The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift

Brad 'the Tool Boy' Taylor - last seen in 1999.

Shit yes. Close the blinds, turn on your TV, crank your stereo to 11 and set your clocks for Tokyo time, because drift racing is upon us. That’s right, you bunch of round-eyed gaijin, I’m back and I've got my watch set to Japanese Standard Time so I know when to drift race. This movie rocks so hard my dick went stiff and refused to go down for 3 days after watching it. Seriously.

This is one of those great movies that you know from the outset that it’s going to be so improbably ridiculous that you don’t even care about a premise. Who needs a story arc when you have Japanese school girls and some yuk-talking hill-billy.

Tokyo Drift is a movie that manages to stand up on its own legs - albeit very unsteadily, much like a newly foaled colt – despite having no known actors in the entire cast. I use the term ‘known’ here loosely to mean ‘good’ or even ‘not washed up and doing reality TV with Corey Feldman’. Our main star is Lucas Black, who I’ve previously only ever seen in American Gothic like 12 years ago. There is also Lil’ Bow Wow, or whatever the fuck he goes by these days, and a small but riveting performance by Zachery Ty Bryan – whom you might know better as that annoying eldest Taylor family child in Home Improvement. I see he’s gone on to do great things. This guy hasn’t had much work since the 90’s.

The story is that Sean (Lucas Black) is sent to live with his father in Japan for being a massive stooge and getting caught racing against that kid from Home Improvement. In Japan he meets Twinkie (Bow Wow) - a black kid with ‘street cred’ and a stupid name – and Han, who takes him under his wing and teaches him how to drift race so that he can win Han the money he owes him. The rest of the movie pretty much goes on about iPods, Corolla AE86s, drift racing and all other things that are listed as being super-mega kawaii.

There is, however, a few cameos that really make you get hugely pumped. The first being Keiichi Tsuchiya, the real Drift King and professional racing driver who pioneered drift racing and touge. The second cameo is none other than Vin fucking Diesel. Vin waits, watching, until the end of the movie when everyone watching it is like “Phew, it’s over. I don’t know how much more awesome I could handle.” And then, BAM! Vin pounces like a wildcat with biceps and just blows your fucking mind with, like, 3 sentences. He mocks the Japanese ‘rice burners’ with his 28 Litre W 16 engine that runs on leaded puppies and the tears of innocent children. So manly. His car probably has a moustache somewhere hidden under the bonnet.

This is a great movie for watching when in the mood, and I do stress that it’s a ‘when in the mood’ kind of film. It’s clearly not to be taken seriously and was more of a fun little filler in the Fast & Furious series while we waited for more Vin Diesel. On the plus side this film has a distinct lack of Paul Walker acting like Keanu Reeves in Point Break (minus the yelling and shooting at the sky bits). If you’re in the mood to see some nice cars, a few crashes and a lot of Japanese people then I’d strongly recommend this film. It’s not going to win an Oscar, ever, but it’s enjoyable and you can tell your girlfriend that if she sits through it with you you’ll cook her a nice dinner (which you won’t anyway).

Very much one for the boys. And the Japanese.

Lord of War

Robo Nicolas Cage: far superior.

There are few movies that you can watch again and again just months apart. Fewer still that manage to not progressively suck with each viewing. 2005’s Lord of War is just such a movie. I know I’ve given Nicolas Cage a lot of shit in the past, and fair enough because he deserves it for movies like Ghost Rider and Knowing, films so bad it’s actually physically painful to watch them. But this movie is different. It was hard for me to sit down and watch it, not because it’s bad – I love this movie – but because it’s a movie that makes you think. It makes you wonder, “what would I do?”, and, “Is this right?” It’s a movie that makes you stop and really look at yourself and society, highlighting that rarely seen grey area between legality and morality.

Lord of War sees Nicolas Cage as an arms dealer of some notoriety. Throughout the movie we find out his feelings about his work. For him it’s purely about business, even stating, “I prefer people to fire my guns and miss. Just as long as they are firing.” His brother, Jared Leto of ‘30 seconds to Mars’ fame, doesn’t feel the same and tries to talk Cage out of it at every opportunity. Wuss. This is a film that dares to ask the difference between ‘right’ and ‘good’, and believe me there is a difference. It doesn’t tell you one way of the other, but instead lets you make up your own mind on the subject.

It isn’t until the end credits that we see this film is based on actual events. Not surprising, really. If there is a way to make money out of exploiting people, someone will find it. Humans are really such amazing animals. You also see a pretty close representation of what it is like in western Africa, with eleven major conflicts involving twenty three countries in less than a decade. These countries are right up there on the list of shit that’s fucked up. I won’t go into some political rant here about Africa. I don’t think I need to. There are other places in the world just as fucked.

Ethan Hawke-man plays an Interpol agent with a sense of duty and an unwavering grasp of the law. An honest cop, a rare commodity indeed. I like Ethan Hawke, especially since he decided to quit as front man for Sugar Ray. He’s fantastic in this film, and so was Leto if I’m being honest. Nicolas Cage has a pretty convincing wig on this time. Far more so than in Bangkok Dangerous – where it looks like someone stapled an old mop head to his scalp. Ian Holm also makes an appearance as a rival gun runner and Bridget Moynahan is Cage’s smoking hot trophy wife. Unfortunately there is little to no nudity, so in that respect this movie can go fuck itself.

Your political opinions may change, hell, the way you see the world may change. This film is more than a great story arc and fantastic directing, this is a story of how the other side lives and just how much the actions of a few can affect us so strongly. As I said before, this is a brilliant movie that will make you question your morals and your opinions of right and good. Is it more important for you that you support the lives of you and your family, or the lives of complete strangers? Maybe it’s selfishness, or maybe it’s just my human instincts, but I’d take the money every time.

They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."