A Kid With A Gift

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I was at the gym the other day when I saw a kid with such an extraordinary gift that it left me a little startled. I always find it a bit strange when there are children there because there's also a militant group of old men that insist on wandering around the changing rooms with their tiny wrinkled knobs out and for a much longer time than is ever necessary. On an average day the place is like a gay sauna, but when you throw some children into the mix then it's suddenly like walking into a feast during ancient fucking Greece. So this kid ended up changing next to me and I swear I didn't mean to see anything, but despite only being about eleven years old, skinny, and fairly short... I promise that his cock was about seven fucking inches long. I mean, I've literally never seen anything so fucking strange in my life. The whole thing really threw me. Obviously I'm no expert but don't children usually have little maggoty-looking cat-dick type things? I wanted to find his parents and congratulate them. Most of the creepy old men in there have dicks that look like somebodies mangled a bit of belly-pork in a wooden door, whereas this kid... he's still got years of puberty to go and yet already he has some Ron Jeremy-esque fucking meat-slammer dragging along the ground.

A Terrible Vision

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People rightly moan that there aren't enough female directors working in Hollywood which seems to be a problem that the Wachowskis are single-handedly trying to solve themselves. A few weeks ago, and before it was announced that Andy had transitioned into Lilly, a friend asked if it was me who'd told him that one of the Coen Brothers had had a sex change. I thought for a second before responding that it wasn't, but I may have told him that one of the Wachowski's had. “Oh” he said, “that makes more sense”. I asked why he was asking to which he answered “Because I was watching an interview with the Coens the other day and I was trying to work out which one of them it was”. He then paused before concluding “I wondered why they both had fucking beards”. Well, to quote The Kinks, “it's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world”. If turning into Martha from Arthur will make a person happy, but doesn't involve somebody then having to drag a fat girl out of a lake and remove a moth from her throat, then who are we to judge? However, as acceptable as it is for a person to surgically alter their sexual organs, I draw the line at video-games that attempt to become films and films that attempt to become video-games. This all leads me to Hardcore Henry which now joins The Boy and Daddy's Home as films I've seen this year that definitely sound like they're going to be gay pornos.

My Big Fat Waste Of Time

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My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a little like that boring couple that you meet whilst on holiday. I didn't like them at the time and I never wanted to see them again. It's been fourteen years since that film was released and in all honesty I figured that the world had completely forgotten about it. What was its story again? I'm guessing the title is a clue but in terms of details, that movie has disappeared from memory like a fart in the wind. I mean, 2002 was a long time ago and a lot has happened since then. Mickey Rourke has gone through more faces than a two-headed Scooby Doo villain; Woody Allen has made over thirty-five comeback movies; and the world's economy performed an unbeatable tribute to Princess Diana by crashing hard. Throughout enduring all of that chaos though, I don't remember a single person asking for a sequel to the original movie. Then again nor do I remember anybody asking for several outbreaks of foot and mouth disease over the last decade. However like a field full of burning, diseased farm animals, we're now faced with the reality of My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2 and as with both cases I found myself compelled to pop along to experience the devastation.

I Think We're Alone Now

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You know how everybody loves surprises? Well a few months ago I was unexpectedly treated to a meal that despite actually being a surprise itself subsequently resulted in a little surprise of its own. It caused me to shit my entire stomach out as a liquid. I took pills to try to calm the constant flow of anal-pissing but this just left me with the opposite problem. I didn't do a single crap for the next eight straight days. I mean, that's not normal, is it? I started to genuinely worry that I was eventually going to expand, contract, and then explode like a dying sun of stink-juice. Shortly after this the world was sucker-punched in the tits by the release of a trailer for 10 Cloverfield Lane. "What the fuck is this?!" we all thought. In a world of fat internet nerds with a need for pop-culture gossip to help endure the reload time between tossing off, it's almost impossible to keep things a complete secret. And yet here we are. Eight years on from the release of Cloverfield, some sort of movie had been completely made without anybody suspecting a thing. The real question therefore was what kind of surprise would this new movie be? A nice one like that lovely meal that I was treated to.. or a not-so-nice-one like the next day of being battered to death by the back-door trots?

Are You Team Fan Or Team Critic?

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In many ways I think that we humans are essentially just an over-evolved gang of mentally deficient pack animals. Sports fans hate the fans of a rival team, mods hate rockers, Bible-bashers hate common sense, and bigots hate anybody with a skin shade darker than that of a shaven wookie. Just look at Batman V Superman: Dawn Of Justice and you'll see this in almost every aspect of it. The marketing asked us if we were 'Team Batman' or 'Team Superman' to which I couldn't help but align myself with 'Team Not A Teenaged Fucking Girl'. Even before this though, and simply at the announcement of the movie, the internet insisted that you had to be on the side of either DC or Marvel. In the way that this became a thing, you'd think it'd be impossible to enjoy a film without giving a solitary shit about the publishing rights of the characters' original incarnation. It's like living in an alternate world in which literary adaptations bring in the biggest audience and being asked to pick between Team Penguin Books or Team Faber and fucking Faber.

The Times They Are A-Changin'?

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When the studio system was in place, Hollywood would control almost every aspect of their stars' public life. The deal was that they'd give you your fame and in exchange you'd spend the next few years wearing a metaphorical ball-gag whilst your soul was being fucked like Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction. When your business is investing in the popularity of a famous face then I guess you want to ensure that people don't find out that they're actually murderers, perverts or worse.. single mothers. Things are a little different now as you're probably aware. Whereas once we were presented with the squeaky clean idealisation of what we should aspire to, we now instead get Charlie Sheen drinking tiger blood whilst stoned on a rooftop. It's easy to look back on those older days with nostalgia and lament the fact that society has since gone to shit. People from yesteryear got actors like Gone With The Wind's Clarke Gable with their sophisticated charm and dapper personalities and what do we have? Mel Gibson's racist rants and David Carradine hanging from his cock in a cupboard.

If Only The Forest Would Get Lost

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Do you know when your night out is ruined by the fact that drinking alcohol turns everybody into a massive raging fucknugget? Well in many ways The Forest is the cinematic equivalent of the morning after. You're aware that you didn't exactly have a good time but it kind of doesn't matter because you've already started to forget the whole thing even happened. To quickly summarise the plot before the film's entire existence fades into obscurity, Natalie Dormer plays two identical twins with one of them getting lost in some creepy Japanese suicide forest and the other going in to find her. You can tell them apart because of Dormer's acting ability here, in which the director had so much faith that he thought he'd dye the twins hair a different colour. Obviously the sister that's on the hunt for the other is aware that her missing sibling is still alive due to the film's insistence that all twins share a special psychic connection. This is obviously a coincidence because, like all twins that claim to share a psychic connection, the film is also total crap.

Bloody Bold And Resolute?

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Since studying Macbeth in primary school I can't help but observe how fucking dull our current Royal Family is. Macbeth is about one mad bastard's grab for power after some local hags have put the idea into his head and his wife has started nagging him. Sure their ambitions might cause them to get a little stabby as they both turn into a couple of kill-crazy fucknuggets, but at least they're doing something interesting. I mean don't get me wrong.. I'm aware that Charles also became heir to the thrown whilst covered in blood, but that wasn't so much due to a violent battle as it was having just been birthed out of the Queen's vagina. Throughout this story Macbeth and Lady Macbeth succumb to their own bat-shittery until all around them are disillusioned, dead, or seeking revenge, but at least they've obviously been busy. The only thing that people tell me our current Royal Family do is to help bring in the tourism, but how do they do that? In this version of Macbeth the title character draws a crowd by setting an entire family on fire for no good reason and yet I've never even seen our Queen even take a fucking selfie.

Blandest Film Of The Year So Far?

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It is a truth universally acknowledged that today's youth are total fucking idiots. Or at least some of them are. Well, one to be specific.. I've recently become friends with a chap in his late teens that's sadly been raised on a diet of religion and the mainstream media to the point that he's become what Toy Story's Mr Potato Head might refer to as an “uncultured swine”. In the wake of Bowie's tragic demise I decided to play Under Pressure to my friend in an attempt to educate him on what the world had just lost. “Who's this song by?” he asked, “Is it Jedward?” ...I mean, 'is it fucking Jedward'? Bowie's body wasn't even cold and I could hear him spinning in his fucking grave. However at a mere twenty-seven years old, I'd be lying if I said that there wasn't a few things that had fallen between the cracks for me too. As a result, Pride And Prejudice And Zombies is literally my first ever exposure to the works of Jane Austen. Is that bad? It's bad, isn't it?! Well, blame my parent I suppose! Blame my school, and fuck it.. blame me too if you like. Although it's worth noting that my young friend also thought that a double cheeseburger was called a 'double cheeseburger' because it contained double fucking cheese. So you know.. let's keep things in perspective!

Is Deadpool As Subversive As It Seems?

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Like my chunky bitch of an ex-girlfriend, Deadpool wants to have its cake and eat it. So in the case of the film, this means that you're meant to think that it's anarchic and subversive despite it being made by the studio that it's pretending to rebel against. As a result with Deadpool, you do get plenty of swearing and some friendly digs at the X-Men franchise, but you never get anything that's devastatingly deconstructive of the genre due to who's holding the money. It's like a whore that advertises themselves as the dirty little bitch that'll do anything whilst still having to check with their pimp before agreeing to wank off a donkey. Particularly if donkey wanking might cause problems for any future business or cross-franchise pollination. For example, people think that the Bond films became gritty because they attempted to catch up to the real world relevance of Jason Bourne. However I think it's actually because that franchise was well and truly destroyed by Austin Powers, who sent up the 007 formula so effectively that Bond, like all of his dead girlfriends, became absolutely fucked. Was Deadpool good fun? Yes. But do you really think that the superhero genre is now going to struggle to continue in its current format? Of course not! This is slightly more complicated than my ex who would more simply just like to have had some of her cake left after having already shoved the whole thing into her fat stupid face. Bitch.

Is This A Hollow Victory?

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13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers Of Benghazi has to be one of the worst fucking titles ever. I mean, what does it even refer to?! '13 Hours' sounds to me like it's the first instalment of a shitty new Young Adult franchise. Or does '13 Hours' simply refer to the running time of the movie, because that's how long it fucking felt like. In fact, here's a better title for this movie- how about 'Another American Balls Up'? Based on a true story, the film is about an American security team that find themselves lost up Shit Creek after a U.S Ambassador is killed by a mob in his Libyan-based compound. Considering this is a touchy subject that's constantly being used as a political football, I'm sure you can imagine the calibre of director that would be required to tell the story. Could it be Paul Greengrass, Kathryn Bigelow, Oliver Stone, Clint Eastwood, or maybe even Ben Affleck? No. Fuck them. Let's get Michael Bay to do it. It's not like his films are always total shit... just look at Pearl Harbour! That film clearly understood the nuance's of history, hence Roger Ebert's classic review of it being about how “the Japanese staged a surprise attack on an American love triangle”.

De Niro And The Meaning Of Life

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Do you believe in the power of karma? If so then you're a fucking idiot. I hate to be the bearer of obvious news, but there's no fairness to our existence. Do you want to know the ingredients of life? Simply take one giant God-free bowl of chaos and chance, make sure to throw in plenty of randomness, and then mix it all together with as much bullshit as you can get your hands on. The only way that you could possibly fall for the notion of karma would be if you failed to notice that every single person experiences nothing beyond a relentless cycle of ups and down. Hitler might have been a bad person but even he was lucky enough to get a girlfriend. Although of all the honeymoons I've heard of, I can't say I'm too jealous of them nipping outside the bunker to shoot each other in the fucking head. But you know, fuck it.. I haven't got a girlfriend, and beyond enjoying the occasional Mel Gibson movie, I've not done anything even remotely as bad as the holocaust. This all brings me nice and neatly to the subject of Robert De Niro.

Against The Odds?

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Life begins with us being dragged, kicking and screaming from our mothers vagina, and then it's all downhill from there. Some people are born stupid and will spend most of their lives shoving junk food into their mouths and trying not to bump into any obstacles that don't have the corresponding genitals. For those of you who weren't blessed with stupidity then there are some magical herbs that will help to defend you from your own piece of shit mind. I won't name them but they're famously available in Amsterdam, parts of America, and from a bloke in Liverpool called Billy Baggy. I'm an over-thinker, which means that as soon as it gets dark, my brain likes to torment me to the point that if I worked in a motel, I'd probably be dressing up as it and killing people as they shower. With the magical herbs however, the world is a beautiful place to behold. There's no stress, everything tastes nicer, and things are incredibly entertaining to simply stare at. I once spent about fifteen minutes looking at a door handle because it was just so god-damn fucking shiny and white.

A Rocky Legacy?

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When I was finishing school, my Dad suggested to me that I consider his line of work as a possible career path. Obviously I ruled this out on the grounds that it's not the fucking Victorian times and I'd rather hang myself than do something as cliched as follow in my father's footsteps. Little did I know that, after nepotism, the only way to get a decent job would be to find the CEO of a company and suck them off in an alley. Creed is the seventh film in the Rocky series, one which has decided to spin off and focus on the young son of the franchise's Hulked up Lando Calrissian, Apollo Creed. Little Creed is determined to do his own thing despite who his father was and he admirably wants to make a name for himself on his own merits. Bearing in mind my own stubbornness on the subject and subsequent lack of success, hope, and happiness, I see him and I as being kindred spirits. So to make it on his own he decides to become a part of his fathers profession, forces his father's ex-world-champion friend to train him, and then takes on his first big match simply as a result of who his father was. Oh, right... good job with the whole 'making it on your own' thing. Prick.

Tarantino's Eighth Film?

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The Hateful Eight is Quentin Tarantino's eighth movie and the first to revolve around a mystery. The mystery being 'how the fuck is this his eighth movie!?' Counting Kill Bill as one film is bullshit because there's a very obvious tonal difference between the two volumes, and when combined they're about as structurally sound as a castle made of shit. Also, I had to pay for two separate fucking tickets to see them both. Either it's one film and he's willing to compromise his artistic integrity for the sake of a quick buck, or he now owes me about eight quid for that extra ticket that he accidentally sold me. Of course even if we count Kill Bill as one film, that still leaves the anomaly of Death Proof. Originally that was only the first half of a movie known as Grindhouse, but when it flopped in America, everybody panicked and released the two halves separately. So if we're using the Kill Bill logic, then we can only conclude that Death Proof was also another half of a film. But then if we're counting halves then surely we're also counting the quarter of Four Rooms that he's responsible for, and maybe even that two-percent of Sin City that he did? Combined, they work out at about twenty-seven percent of one full film. I mean, I've been forced to do Maths GCSE questions that were fucking easier than this...

It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world!

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Don't you hate it when you go to see a film about a woman who loves pastry and then suddenly it turns out to be about a guy who wants to have his dick chopped off?! The Danish Girl is set in 1920's Copenhagen when all of the locals have decided to discard their own language in a nationwide experiment to sound like posh, English RADA graduates. However despite this bizarre Twilight Zone bat-shittery, the film decides to focus on a young and slightly unconventional married couple of artists. Played by Alicia Vikander and Eddie Redmayne, the wife of the two asks her husband to pose as a woman for one of her portraits which magically imbues him with the desire to literally transform into an actual female. With a power like that, I can't help but wonder if she's the reason that Piers Morgan seems to look like a sweaty, phone-hacking bell-end. Anyway, so what follows is the story of a man and his desire to undergo one of the worlds first gender reassignment operations. In all honesty it's probably a good job that I saw this film because I've been lobbying for a sex change operation for some time. Although rather than swapping my gender I was simply hoping that I could alter the status of my 'sex' to anything other than 'getting none'.

Why Did Amy Winehouse Die?

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“Amy Winehouse died from an overdose? Of course she did. Fuck her, the stupid bitch.” That generally seemed to be the sympathetic response from my parents' generation when news broke of the singers death. Nothing seems to annoy my own Mum more than when a financially successful person succumbs to their own monsters and kicks the bucket. It's as though they see mental illness as being the same as watching Steve Irwin get bitten after sticking his cock into an alligators eye. I agree that if you play with matches then there's a chance that you'll get burned but with addiction, it seems like getting burned is kind of the point. In which case perhaps there's a good possibility that the underlying motive is a little more self-destructive and tragic than simply trying to annoy anonymous members of the public.. and my Mum. I have actually encountered addicts who have entered into a rehab program and can honestly say that it's one of the most profound things that I've ever been involved with. These people are valiantly attempting to find a state of mind and normality that we all take for granted. These are the ones that see choosing life as an improvement to their current situation. There's nothing that will highlight the grim reality of a persons existence than seeing them fight to become part of a world that's undeniably as fucking miserable as this one.

Kids Need To Learn That Life Is Grim

If you're depressed about being a fuck up then it's probably Disney's fault. I'm not blaming the house of mouse for the fact that you're seemingly incapable of achieving happiness but rather that you consider it your own fault. Being the constant miserabilist that I am, I've taken to asking most people within my social circle if they're happy and the two most positive responses that I've had are “I'm in a happier place” and “I don't like this line of questioning”. Am I happy? No. I wake up every morning, rate my joy out of eight and then stick my head in the oven, on that gas mark and for that equivalent amount of minutes. Literally nobody will admit to being content because nobody actually fucking is, but in this world of social media we assume that everybody is swimming in an ocean of success whilst we're trying not to drown in a swimming pool of piss. People used to be worried that the grass was always greener on the other side but some days I can't help but feel it'd simply look better from six foot below.

An Emotional Journey?

I check the latest movie news on my phone with such impulsiveness that it's like watching a crackhead frantically rifle through his dead mate's pockets, however the news that George Lucas had sold the Star Wars franchise to Disney and that they were essentially going to make these movies from now and until I die came as a shock. Not only had I presumed that the saga was over, but Lucas had managed to make this entire deal with the kind of flawless secrecy that you wish he'd reserved for his ideas regarding a prequel trilogy. I was with my friend at the time the announcement was made and it was him who was able to give me the news. “They're making more Star Wars films, the cast of the original trilogy is involved, Lucas will have nothing to do with it”. My brain imploded. I couldn't cope. How does somebody react to having news like that just sprung upon them? Well- I did what any respectable, twenty-something year old geek would do. I marched over to my Darth Vader voice-changer helmet, popped it onto my head, sat on my bed and had a little fucking cry. 

The Benefits Of Being A Slow Burner

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Do you ever have one of those evenings in which one second you're having a casual sip of alcohol and the next you're screaming abuse over some loud music and projectile vomiting up the walls? Ah, nights in are the best aren't they?! Well, in many ways the new film Bridge Of Spies is a non-aggressive version of that kind of night except it won't result in you needing a new liver or losing custody of the kids. Well, not unless you're watching it with them whilst rubbing your belly button and masturbating, anyway. So the movie began calmly, I relaxed back into my chair, and then two hours later I left the cinema having seen one of my new favourites of the year. In the same way that David Hasselhoff can't handle his drink, I had no idea that I was being affected as much as I was until the credits rolled and I could feel my sense of awe. Except in my case I'd just gone to the cinema to see a really good movie - in the Hoff's case, he was filmed trying to eat a broken burger off his bathroom floor whilst naked from the waist up. I don't know if you've seen that video of him making a complete fool of himself? Although I will say, in his defence, and as Pamela Anderson will be aware, there is more undignified footage online featuring the cast of Baywatch. It's called Baywatch.

Toy Story Changes Meaning The Older You Get?

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Last night I finished watching the Toy Story Trilogy for the first time since the third installment was first released at the cinema. Obviously the whole experience was fucking amazing. I laughed, I cried, and I felt guilty as hell about some of the things that my toys would have seen happen in my room during my teenage years. This morning when I got into work however my boss had brought his six year old grandson with him and by shear coincidence the kid was playing with his figurines from the film. Either that kid has a seriously decent taste in pop-culture or it's about time that I grew the fuck up. As I was trying to crack on with my job, I could hear the little scamp playing out his own stories with Woody, Buzz, Jessie, and Rex, and I was genuinely impressed. Beyond anything, I had no idea that kids still played with toys if I'm honest. I just assumed that the youth of today had thrown away their love of figures and imagination after being seduced by the charms of computer games, crack-cocaine, and violent pornography. Admittedly he was wrapping the characters up in sellotape and suffocating them as though trial-running the future murder of his fucking pets but still... until a cat turns up dead, it seemed sweet to me. 

Steve Jobs - A Pain In The Art?

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I guess the general vibe of the world is that nobody likes their boss. I mean, I know for fact that I couldn't fucking stand the Guy that I previously worked for. In case you didn't get that very un-gettable inside reference, the twat's name was Guy, but for the sake of some anonymity we'll just call him Mr Williams. Anyway- Mr Williams was one of those people who expected you to pull the moon out of your arse despite every one of his instructions being completely contradictory, impossible, or not my fucking responsibility. Danny Boyle's latest film Steve Jobs depicts an equally demented piece of shit, although at least this chap is changing the world instead of making pennies from a crappy sheet-metal company. The film is broken up into three very distinct acts with each third focusing on the avalanche of technical and personal problems that Jobs has shat on him before launching several new products. Of course everybody will be allowed their own interpretation of the film, but for me it's about one of two things.. either it's about art and what it means to be an artist or it's the story of a total fucking psychopath. Despite his loyal army of fanboys, the film depicts Jobs as what I'd call “a total Guy Williams” and what the rest of the world would probably just call a cunt.