31 July 2016

Busting Makes Me Feel Good

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Since the announcement of Paul Feig's Ghostbusters reboot, it seems that the world has gone fucking mad. Alleged fans of the original saw an all-female cast and a fresh start for their long dead franchise, and rather than being grateful they reacted by screaming holy fucking jihad. The director and cast began receiving death threats as though they'd organised a mass bonfire of every copy of the original film and just before the burning had started they'd stood on top of the pile and taken one huge collective 'fuck you' dump. Except that's not what they did, is it? They had a vision for a property that had literally done piss-all since its crappy sequel was released in 19-fucking-89 and they made a movie. A movie that up until now nobody in the world had even seen. It's like a child waking up on Christmas day, seeing their un-opened presents, and despite having no idea what's inside, they start crying because it's not what they wanted. Well, as far as I'm concerned, children like that don't deserve presents. They deserve to be drowned in a fucking well.

If you were a fan of something and discovered that it was to be continued by people with the level of talent that are involved here, then you'd think you'd be happy, wouldn't you? Of course you would. But these 'fans' don't have brains in their heads, instead having to filter their mindlessness through a tiny bigoted turd that connects to their spinal column, which floats around in their thick, pre-evolved skulls in a vacuum of fucking air. And as we've learnt from the existence of the queef, it's the twats that have the most fucking air in them that seem to make the loudest fucking noise. Because despite how these raging tit-wits have spent the last few years by filling the internet with their wank-spews of ignorance, it turns out that they were completely fucking wrong. Feig's Ghostbusters has opened to an overwhelming flood of positive reviews and with the box-office healthy enough that a sequel will no doubt be on it's way. Although, of course this hasn't stemmed the close-minded arse-breathers from dragging themselves via the knuckles to their keyboards in order to continue filling the void in their lives, with this now provably unjustified hate.

Some have claimed that the positive reviews that this movie is receiving is due to the studio having paid the reviewers to say something nice. Because I'm sure that such small publications as Time Magazine or The Telegraph are more than prepared to risk their long term reputation in exchange for some short-term pennies. If only the makers of The Transformers franchise had cared enough to pay the critics not to hate their horrible movies then perhaps they'd have actually made some money back. Except they did make money back, didn't they?! Because realistically the studios need to pay off critics about as badly as the more well established and widely read critics are likely to accept their offer, if it were ever to come up. It's a bit like how the people sending death threats to the crew of this movie are likely to ever achieve anything more noteworthy than a 'who can fit the most sea-weed in their mouth competition' as their fat, bloated corpses eventually wash up on a deserted beach. I don't know about you, but it just doesn't seem likely does it? The other claim that these skin-wasters have screamed out of their rank, infected blow holes in reaction to the reviews is to state that the only reason they're positive is because critics would be considered sexist if they slagged off a movie featuring an all-female cast. Firstly, that's not how 'sexism' works, is it?! And secondly even if that was how 'sexism' worked, having read the reviews for Spice World and Sex And The City 2, I don't think the critics would really give a shit... do you?!

As a result of all of this unwarranted hate, I went into the new Ghostbusters with the sole intention of making it my new favourite film of all time. Every lump of pre-judgemental and uninformed shit to be spewed out of somebodies toothless lip-cracked mouth in regards to this movie simply made me want to fucking like it out of sheer spite alone. I was therefore a little disappointed to come out having seen it to discover that in actual fact it was just alright. It was kind of like marrying some guy to annoy those anti-gay marriage people and then just as you get to the honeymoon suite you remember you're not actually gay and now you've got to fuck him. However, with the lights off, I guess it all feels the same, and as the cinema was plunged into darkness and Ghostbusters began, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy what I experienced. It was good. I think that I just had expectations that were a little too high, and although I got a perfectly fine movie, I was hoping that this Ghostbusters would be the sole reason that we'd all evolved our eyes and those meaty flaps on the side of our head that help the sound get into our skull.

In an attempt to stab back at the prick-sticks that've spent a couple of years shitting on the unreleased movie, I was hoping that Feig's film would be an unbreakable diamond of a sword, when in reality it's simply a perfectly workable machete of a movie. It's not the weapon I was hoping for but it's still enough to beat the frozen splats of stale jizzim that the other side have been using, like a thicker version of those bone waving monkeys at the start of 2001: A Space Odyssey. If I were to compare this movie to another from this year I'd say that it's probably on par with Goosebumps, however the one advantage that Goosebumps has over this is that it wasn't released with the same level of exception. Because although this new film is absolutely fine and enjoyable, it never quite gets away from the shadow of its more iconic and influential original. Which isn't to say that I think the original is perfect, by the way. I'd even argue that in terms of gauging it's audience, the newer Ghostbusters has a better grasp over its tone than the original, which mixed gags aimed at children with a few rapey comments from Bill Murray, and a scene in which Dan Aykroyd gets sucked off by a ghost.

I'd even say that this new film is probably scarier than the original was, and although not as funny, it's worth noting that the original was hardly piss-your-pants hilarious. The original movie was fun and got by on the charms of its cast, which is exactly the same with this newer film here. It's just that as great as this cast is, they're not quite yet as iconic as Murray and Aykroyd who are two decades ahead of them in being able to collect fans and build a reputation. In the same way that the women in this movie can't help the fact that they're women, I don't think that we should punish them for not having being born in the fucking 50's too. Plus, in terms of hoping this movie would be hilarious, I wasn't comparing it the original, but actually to Feig's previous film Spy which really was laugh-out-loud brilliant. As much as I enjoyed Chris Hemsworth's idiot secretary revealing the lack of lenses in his glasses by subtly scratching his eyes through the frames, there really is nothing here that compares to Jason Statham screaming about his refusal to accept the non-existence of the 'fucking face-off machine'.

It's also worth noting that the effects in this new movie are also pretty brilliant, with the ghosts being a brilliant blend of both CG and practical work. The colours throughout the entire movie are also mind-blowingly beautiful and generally show the world to be as bright and vivid as it usually looks right after I inhale and just before the munchies kick in. Of course this contrasts slightly with the bland and under-whelming villain, but as big a problem as that is, I suppose it's nothing that isn't also true of the dweeb from Ghostbusters 2. Perhaps for me, the biggest problem was simply that this film took place in a world that had never experienced ghosts before, and as such is essentially an origin story for the group. But in a world in which superhero movies are holding onto cinema with the tightness of a wanking champions unbreakable grip, I'm kind of sick of origin stories and would just rather films cracked the fuck on. In which case, perhaps it would have actually been a better idea to make this movie a proper Ghostbusters 3, with these new recruits having to figure out what to do after years of a supernatural-free New York. The original 'fans' would have been happier, and you could tell a fairly similar story but that has slightly less edging and a little more busting.

Although in quick defence of that, I would say that despite what the mouthy yogurt-slurpers have been screaming, this third film would never have happened. Not because of Paul Feig and his vision getting in its way, but because of Bill Murray and his reluctance to return to a franchise that he himself hates fifty-fucking-percent of. In which case, I think we need to go back to my original point that the new Ghostbusters is a good film and is the only version of this franchise that anybody was ever going to get. Therefore rather than being such a group of arse-stinking nimrods who gets their puss-bubbles in a boil simply because of their own weirdly out-of-whack priorities, perhaps we can just enjoy this movie for what it is. It's not hilarious, no, but that's not because it fails to be funny, but because it simply tries just to be fun. With that as a goal, I'd say that the movie is a success, and one that I did enjoy initially and suspect I'll enjoy more as the years go by and it's able to breathe without the pressure of expectation. Oh, and for the record, before the film was released, the comedian Patton Oswalt defended this movie and as a result found himself being tweeted by people accusing him of having murdered his recently deceased wife. If you're one of those people who did that over a fucking movie.. a movie that's turned out to be pretty fucking good... well, I honestly hope that you die a slow and painful death in which vein-poppingly huge tumours fill up every one of your blistering orifices and your body starts to collapse as it drowns in pools of it's own stinking bile. Cunts. Thanks for reading, motherfuckers, and see you next time.