Marvel Is Going Strange

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Doctor Strange is arguably the most unbelievable film that Marvel have decided to use in their Cinematic Universe. Not because of all the magic and crazy shit in it of course. Who can be surprised by that in a world featuring The Avengers?! Even more insanely, it actually seems to take place in an America in which literally nobody ever seems to have to pay their hospital bills! I mean, what the fuck?! At one point an injured Doctor Strange zaps straight into the hospital, calls the name of a nurse he knows, finds an empty operating room and gets seen to straight away. The other day my mate fell strangely onto his ankle because he's a total fucking idiot and I thought we were both going to die in that hospital the wait was so long. It was the same as that time I slipped in the bathroom when balancing on the side of the bath and cracked my bollocks on the sink. Who cares about magic when the film has hospitals that treat people as well as this?! This might be a universe in which aliens are being shat out of the sky, and various ancient Gods are taking a huge glittery dumps onto humanity, however clearly it's not all bad!

A Real Disaster At The Movies

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So it was Friday night and I'd arranged to go to the cinema with my friends to see the disaster movie Deepwater Horizon. It's about an oil rig that exploded and in which people died or something. Anyway, about an hour before we'd arranged to meet, the real disaster struck when every single one of my shit-house friends individually messaged to cancel on me. I mean, what was I meant to do? Only fucking losers go to the cinema alone on a Friday night and I obviously wasn't about to do that was I?! Anyway so I got to the cinema on my own and found my seat. I was trying to be discreet although in retrospect the flask of tea may have been a mistake. I took it with me because I'm English and we sometimes just can't help ourselves. Also I was alone at the cinema on a Friday night.. how much more could the other fuckers there really judge me?! Anyway so just as the film began I undid the lid and, forgetting how hot tea is, I accidentally unleashed so much steam that I pretty much turned my aisle into a fucking sauna. Now I think about it, perhaps this kind of thing is why nobody will come the cinema with me... On the bright-side however, as the giant sea-based oil rig began to explode, I couldn't help but feel that I'd actually created a much more immersive environment for everybody around me. So you know.. you're welcome!

A Boring Journey

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In the way that my bitch of a step-mother is missing any sense of empathy, compassion, kindness, and even some of her teeth, The Girl On The Train also lacks a fundamental ingredient that it requires to be complete. It's an edge of the seat thriller that seems to have forgotten to be in any way fucking thrilling. I've heard the book it's based on referred to as an 'airport book', which I'd assumed meant it was an enjoyably trashy page turner that you might pick up at the airport for an easy read on your holidays. However having seen the film I can only now assume that it's called an 'airport book' because it's so predictable and boring that once you start reading it you'll want to drop it off in the furthest bin you can find from your house. If you haven't read or heard of the book then perhaps you'll have heard of this movie thanks to the bombardment of trailers that have been trying to sell it as an edge of the seat experience. I agree with this too I suppose, in that I did spend a lot of the movie on the edge of my seat. However this was less to do with how gripped I was and more to do with the fact that as soon as the credits were rolling and I could leave, I'd decided I wanted a sprinting start.

I Saw A Film Today, Oh Boy!

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For the sake of context, I feel it might be worth mentioning that I live in a place called The Wirral which is directly opposite Liverpool. I'm close enough that I can get away with taking the piss out of them, but far enough away that I'm thankfully not actually one of them. Essentially, Wirral is perfectly located to keep an eye on whatever trouble the scousers might be getting up to, but with the river Mersey keeping us just far enough apart for the sake of 'Health and Safety'. People always associate the River Mersey with Liverpool but it's actually just as much ours as it is theirs. You've heard of the Mersey Ferry I'm guessing? Well, that'll pretty much take you straight to us like the last chopper out of Saigon. So basically, I've lived my life having to constantly hear our neighbouring Liverpudlians screaming about The fucking Beatles from over the river but without actually coming from the same place as them to give that much of a shit. I mean, I like The Beatles, don't get me wrong, but you know what Liverpool is like. If a scouser won a line of Bingo when he was on holiday he'd be championed back as a local fucking hero.

And It Was The Best

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Hunt For The Wilderpeople is a film about two people on a journey, which is ironic because I had to go on a journey to find this fucking movie. Despite looking more shite than a little brown lump in a particularly smelly kitty-litter box, Nine Lives is still playing in my local cinema well over a month since it was dumped onto the Earth. Are people really paying to see that? Because even though I'd heard that it was one of the best films of the year, Hunt For The Wilderpeople was only playing in the nearest art-house cinema to me, and I'm not sure why! I mean, it's not like the film is obscure or designed only for the most cine-literate of movie geeks. It's about a mismatched couple bickering on an adventure. Not only is this the set-up for most movies, it's relatable too as I was bickering with my friend as we were forced on our journey to see this film. Although, in the film the two characters bicker because of their water-and-oil personalities, me and my friend bickered because he couldn't understand why it was inappropriate to frantically scratch cheese stains off his crotch when we're on a crowded fucking train.