Some Very White-Knuckle Action

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If Eve was made from a piece of Adam's rib then I'd suggest that Chris Hemsworth was grown from a sliver of God's own cock. Have you seen Chris Hemsworth? Has he been here since the dawn of time? Because he looks like the archetypal alpha-human that the rest of us mere mutants might have once spawned from. I see him as that first completely pure wolf to walk out of the forest before being bred with increasingly inferior creatures until you've ended up with us.. his Shih Tzu descendants. We're the bastard mongrels of his original super-being and I feel fucking sick about myself. As an atheist I find the Garden Of Eden to be quite a farfetched story but if I'd not seen Chris Hemsworth with my own eyes then I'd probably say the same about him. There might not be any treacherous snake involved here but have you seen Hemsworth's arms? In his new action film Extraction, they're so fat and veiny that they looked like a close-up of a porn stars dick. After years of being exposed to unnecessarily misogynistic online pornography, my brain had been conditioned to expect him to shout, “choke on this, you bitch”, every time he'd punch somebody in the face. I don't know where the filmmakers took inspiration from for these fight scenes but they reminded me of a blooper reel from fucking Deep Throat. At one point in this film, he jumps off a cliff and lands straight into the sea which I can only assume was a special effect for fear of the ensuing tsunami being an extinction-level event that would devastate our entire fucking planet had it been done for real. 

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One Wedding And Not Enough Funerals

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Love Wedding Repeat begins with a montage of Rome which is great because I went on holiday there once and I love being reminded of my trip. The film shows the cafe where my friend accidentally spent his entire holiday budget on one lunch, the hotel in which my friend intentionally exposed himself to me after he'd somehow twisted his testicles around within the sack, and the Vatican which is where my friend and I decided to visit to see where all of the paedophiles go to hide. What a beautiful city. Eventually, we focus in on our hero of the film, Sam Claflin, as he struggles to tell his sister's friend Olivia Munn that he fancies her. Or at least I think that's what he was trying to do. It's kind of hard to tell because Claflin's teeth are so fucking white that I began to get a little distracted... Why are they so white? What is he trying to hide by keeping them so insanely clean? Because he's looking at Olivia Munn here like he actually wants to start biting big chunks of meat out of her fucking face. He's really starting to get quite a wrinkly forehead too for someone so young. I watched this film in Ultra Hi-Def 4K which is really not the kindest option for the people on screen. I'm sure Claflin's head is no wrinklier than anybody else's but with the picture as good as it was he looked like Mr Wharf from fucking Star Trek. I think Claflin might actually be going bald too. I'm not a betting man but I'm seriously tempted to put money on him looking like a massive fucking thumb after a particularly long bath within the next five years. I don't mean to body shame him but his character is so lacking in any personality that there really was fuck all else to judge him on.

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It's Amateur Hour On Netflix

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At the start of the week, I had to have my dog of fourteen and a half years put to sleep and yet watching Mark Of The Devil was probably the worst thing I've experienced over the last few days. Not really. Obviously. But you get my point. The dog thing was like having my heart ripped out whereas watching this film was more like I was being lightly kicked in the head for a bit. I'd spotted the film on Netflix and so figured I'd give it a whirl but despite only having a running time of about 80minutes I swear to God that it must have been on for about five fucking days. By the time that the film was finally over, I'd grown facial hair, lost weight, and reality was now tinged with this surreal dream-like edge that didn't feel real. Admittedly most of that was probably down to the dog situation but there's no denying that getting through Mark Of The Devil was like being stranded on a desert island with only rocks to lick and suicide to contemplate for entertainment. The film itself is about a group of people getting possessed by a.. thing? That's about as much as I can tell you because the whole film was so painfully tedious that my concentration began to lapse and I was forced to retreat to that safe-room in my Mind Palace. It was as though I was a fucking torture victim. I swear that Terry Waite would have found himself with more to think about as he spent five years chained to a fucking radiator than I did whilst watching this piece of shit film.

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Save Me Some Food You Selfish Bastards

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Look, I'm not saying that Netflix has intentionally started this coronavirus bullshit but it is all beginning to look a little suspicious. What better way to get us all watching their service by having us put under house arrest for fear of catching bat-AIDS? Not only that but they've just released a new film called The Platform that is so perfectly timed for right now that I reckon they probably fucked that flying rat themselves. The Platform is a Spanish language horror film about a man, Goreng, who wakes up to find himself trapped on a grotty random floor of a grotty random tower block. Unlike the rest of us who would only find ourselves in this environment if we decided to dabble in being a crack-head for a little while, Goreng is actually imprisoned here. There is a hole in both the floor and the ceiling of his room by which a table full of food is able to magically glide down once a day for him to eat from. The only catch is that the higher up the tower you are then the more food you'll have to choose from. Those nearer the bottom of the tower are obviously therefore only able to scavenge the scraps that they might have been left with. Any of this sounding familiar yet? Because right now I'm stuck in a small building in 'lockdown' with only the food I could find after you fucking bastards had grabbed everything off the fucking shop shelves first. The only difference between what's happening to Goreng and what's happening to us is that Goreng doesn't get offered a seven day free trial of PornHub's admittedly quite exciting-sounding premium service. 

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The Last Blockbuster We Ever Made

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Fisting a donkey, fucking a monkey, or sucking off a badger? I keep asking myself what must be in the photographs that Vin Diesel has of the movie producer that he keeps blackmailing for work. Because I refuse to believe that he actually gets hired for his acting ability alone. Have you seen any of his movies? The Fast And Furious franchise literally only works because he seems to be the only person involved in it that doesn't realise how fucking stupid it is. I don't dislike him but I think that we all know that he is a po-face figure of absolute ridicule. In which case it must be his good looks that people keep casting him for.. right? ...Are you kidding me? He looks like a camel fucked a potato and then nine months later a baby made of shoe-leather fell out. When I look at him I see a gingerbread man wrapped up in recently-waxed bollock skin. Sure he has a deep voice but he sounds like a butch woman that's been smoking seventy a day since the early Fifties. I agree that his best role is in Guardians Of The Galaxy but that's only because he's playing a tree monster called Groot and he'd already spent his entire career giving wooden performances anyway. I'd probably sound like him if my voice was booming out of from a charisma-free husk too and listening to him speak is like being shouted at by a haunted cupboard door. About forty-five minutes into his latest film Bloodshot, he takes off his jacket to reveal that he's also wearing a white vest. As usual. My theory is that filmmakers actually keep hiring the vest and he just comes fucking free with it.

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From One Extreme To The Other

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Author and columnist A.A. Gill once claimed that he'd shot a baboon to death because he wanted to know what it'd be like to kill an actual human being. That seems reasonable. We all try things out on an animal before going all the way with a human, don't we? By that logic, I presume Gill also tried to fuck a baboon before losing his virginity to an actual human too. Perhaps if Gill had really wanted to kill a person then instead of murdering an innocent baboon he should have just put the gun in his own mouth and blown his piece of shit brains all over the fucking walls instead. Blumhouse Productions' new movie The Hunt features a new riff on the 1924 Richard Connell story The Most Dangerous Game in which a group of sociopaths decide to kidnap and hunt down a gang of what they consider to be society's “deplorables”. Except due to a super-clever twist, it would be Gill on the run here as this new film features a group of liberal elites deciding to hunt down a group of right-wing shitheads instead. How subversive is that? My God. The left-wing lunatics are the ones going after the pro-gun right? That's such a special idea. I can only presume the writers of The Hunt typed this script by slapping their dicks back down onto the keyboard after spaffing off over their own unprecedented level of genius. 

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Another Drop Kick To The Heart

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Pixar films are great because you can take a first date to see one and if they're not in floods of tears by the end then you know they're likely to be a fucking sociopath and you're in danger. Not that I go on many dates, of course. The only chance I have to meet people is through Tinder and recently I've been left swiping on everyone like a motherfucker because I've started getting off on the idea of being the one that rejects them for a fucking change. So even though Pixar's latest Onward is quite clearly a children's film, I ended up going to see it alone. Which is fine. I'm aware that in a row of parent, child, parent, child, parent, child, me, that I must look like a nonce. But I also don't want people disturbing me when I'm at the cinema and so I'm quite happy to have children be told not to go near “the bad man”. Still. I probably shouldn't be getting my dick out even if it is just to maintain that illusion. I went into this movie pretty blind having avoided all trailers and reviews and so I wasn't sure what it was going to be about. As it turns out it's a fantasy film that takes place in a world that's relatably our own but where magic is treated as being part of the mundane. Imagine The Lord Of The Rings but if the Hobbits were stopping every few miles to brag about how many steps that their fucking Fitbits were up to. Or the Narnia movies if Edmond had to ram his fingers down his throat because he'd eaten too much Turkish Delight and his Instagram followers were commenting that he was becoming a fat prick.

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Why You Should All Take A Look At The Invisible Man

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Set in the 1880's, Fanny By Gaslight might be a classic film about a manipulative partner but it's also terrible advice on where to put your genitals when you're feeling a little chilly. Especially in the 1880s. If porn has taught me anything about history... and I suspect it has... it's that the further back in time you go the more pubic hair a person seems to have. Sticking your fanny by the gaslight back in the 1800s might have caused the hair to go up in flames as though it was made of dry fucking kindling. People think that women shave their pubes now because of the media's creepy fetishisation of extreme youth but the reality is that it's just basic health and safety really. In an alternate reality, the word 'gaslighting' might refer to when a woman's inflamed pubic region accidentally sets the whole neighbourhood on fire after a badly timed fanny fart. But in our world, it's the term we use to describe the act of causing somebody to doubt their own sanity. Presuming they're not insane to begin with, of course. It's not gaslighting to tell The Plainfield Ghoul, Ed Gein, that he's a fucking lunatic for making lampshades out of human fucking face skin. Although you do have to admire his skills as an arts and crafter there. But gaslighting is when a guy does mad shit like secretly hiding his girlfriend's dildo in the freezer to make her think she's going nuts. I imagine it's probably even more confusing for her if she didn't own a dildo in the first place. I wonder how many guys have had to start gaslighting their girlfriend through embarrassment after she just happened to find his dildo? Food for thought I guess.

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Runnin' With The Blue Devil

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I was on my way home from a friends house one night when I spotted a hedgehog just chilling in the middle of the road like an absolute dickhead. I decided to move him because I was already quite close to my house and I knew that if I left him and then found him dead the next day I'd feel way too guilty about having not done something. Oh, don't worry, I'm aware that I'm a fucking angel. As I approached the little guy I could see that he was stood on top of something.. and I could hear this weird noise that sounded a lot like something being repeatedly crunched coming from it. I picked him up and as I did I discovered something horrific. I wasn't rescuing any old hedgehog, I was rescuing the Jeffery fucking Dahmer of hedgehogs. When I picked him up it turned out that the thing he was stood on was actually another dead hedgehog and the crunching was the sound of him fucking eating it. Not only that but he was enjoying his meal so fucking much that he refused to let it go. When I lifted him the other partly-eaten hedgehog came up with him and was dangling by its intestines from his fucking mouth. I didn't know what to do so I panicked and ran with him. I decided to put him in my garden so that he wouldn't go back to the road but as I did a car drove past and saw me. I can't imagine what they must have thought as they saw me legging it down the road with a blooded hedgehog in my hand and another dangling by its guts from his fucking mouth. But I imagine they felt as disgusted and upset as the internet did when they first laid eyes on the original design of the title character in the Sonic The fucking Hedgehog movie.

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A Life Changing Hit From A Bong

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If you can watch the film Okja and still eat meat by the time the credits roll then as far as I'm concerned you're a fucking sociopath. I'd been considering vegetarianism for some time before seeing this movie but I'd been somewhat put off by the fact that I didn't like eating things that weren't meat and I fucking loved eating the things that were. If I were to order a pizza then when asked what toppings I'd like for it I'd ask for so much meat that it was almost easier for me to just sing “Old MacDonald Had A Farm” down the fucking phone. Of course, I felt guilty about it. To quote this film, “I'm an animal lover. Everybody knows that about me!” But my God they taste so good, don't they? It helps that we often give the food different names too I think. I'm not eating a cute little piggy but a delicious cooked sausage that I can imagine somebody must have plucked harmlessly from the sausage tree. I was going to say I'd like to imagine myself eating from the sausage bush but that just sounds as though I like a man with a lot of pubes and I'm desperate to suck his cock. Of course, I knew that sausages came from pigs but even the adverts on television made the animals look happy for me to eat them. Beef adverts make it seem as though the meat is a gift from the cows and I'd be hurting their poor little moo-moo feelings if I chose not to accept it. Look, I love giving gifts as much as the next person but if it involves me being shot in the head, hung from meat hooks, splayed open, and then shoved into a fucking burning hot oven then I might just get you a fucking gift voucher instead if you don't fucking mind. 

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I'd Really Love To Be Alone Without All The Ache And Pain

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The Lighthouse tells the story of two Lighthouse keepers being trapped together on their small island in the late 19th Century. It stars Willem Dafoe as the old hand and Robert Pattinson as the new boy there to be told what to do. It's also batshit fucking insane. In an interview, Willem Dafoe said that the film is about what happens when two men are stuck together in a giant cock-shaped building and allowed to go mad. So to say that it's a look at what happens when masculinity is allowed to fester would be an understatement. But imagine The Shining if there are fewer rooms to hide in and both people are Jack Nicholson and you're not too far off what this film is like. I fully understand the situation too by the way. My mate and I had to wait in the house for a delivery from the post-man once and the insanity and boredom had started to get to us straight away. “How long do you think we'd have to be locked in a room with each other before we went mad and started fucking?” I asked my friend. “Hmm”, he pondered, “I'd say at least a couple of days”. A couple of days? I was thinking more about how many years?! We were two men voluntarily sitting in a building that has television and wi-fi and yet my friend was still only one day away from offering up his arse-hole for fucking rations.

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We're All Horrible But At Least I Know It Now

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Hello neighbour, I'm glad we're online neighbours you and I. You come knocking at my little blog's door and I'll always let you in so that you can read some of my most recent and special thoughts. Of course, if this was real life I'd spit in your face and tell you to fuck off you piece of shit. I hate you. You're a cunt. I don't think I'm a bad person, but I realise having seen Tom Hanks' latest film A Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood that I'm probably not a good one either. The film tells the real-life story of a journalist who was tasked with interviewing the children's TV host Mr Rogers. Over here in the UK, I don't think we're too aware of Mr Rogers, but by all accounts the Americans fucking love him. I was trying to think about who our equivalent might be and I really struggled. He's a TV presenter that has a special relationship with his younger audience and who is admired for all of the positivity that he's brought into the world. Who is our version of that? Because right now I'm thinking Jimmy Savile. In the film, the journalist is asked to write a puff-piece on Mr Rogers that might explain why he's considered such a hero. I guess it'd be trickier to write that about Savile now that he's turned out to be one of the most notorious fucking child molesters of all time. Mr Rogers was apparently a genuinely lovely human whereas I once read an interview in which Savile retrospectively seemed to imply that he'd spent a week fucking the corpse of his dead Mum as she lay decomposing in his flat.

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A Truffle Pig Hunting For Clichés

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Before the new Bad Boys For Life, I'd never seen a single film in the Bad Boys franchise. Mostly because they sound like the title of a series of gay pornos and they're directed by Michael Bay. God, I can't stand Michael Bay's movies. If I had to pick I'd rather watch a gay porno over a Michael Bay movie. At least the gay porno would be less gratuitous and I'd actually be surprised if it went on for a further ten minutes after the final explosion. This new Bad Boys movie has a new directing team behind it though and so I felt it'd be okay to go and see it without my usual collection of pendants and protective charms. But then about half an hour into the movie, Michael Bay actually shows up for a cameo like Jason Voorhees springing out of the fucking lake to drown that girl at the end of Friday The 13th. “Why is nobody booing and hissing at the screen” I wondered of my fellow moviegoers, “Do they not know who he is?”. Truly the Devil walks amongst us. Not that he directed this movie don't forget. I can't remember the names of the two guys at the helm this time, but it doesn't matter. The film looks like an advert for an expensive watch that you'd expect to find on the wrist of a sexual predator that thinks he's in Entourage. I didn't hate it though. The movie I mean. Not the sexual predator. Or the expensive watch that I made up. 

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The Pink Feather Of History

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Imagine a world in which we could be conscripted into war. Horrible, isn't it? I get the hump when my phone has the balls to tell me that it considers itself to be “sufficiently charged” and so you can imagine how I'd feel about being ordered to plunge a knife into a German's throat. I'm not even against violence either, to be honest with you. I'm not going to kill for any nationalistic bullshit but if I'm at the cinema and a group of kids start taking selfies then my first basic urge is to run along their row with a fucking chainsaw. But war? Like actual war? Fuck that. Especially now that we have social media. Back in the day, we'd join up because we believed in king and country and all of that bollocks. But Twitter is like the masked magician where the magic of politics is concerned. Whether it's sawing a woman in half or starting a war, I guess things just seem less special when you've seen what goes on behind the scenes. The Second World War is taught to death in our schools but I don't remember the first world war coming up that much. Wikipedia's opening gambit on how that war started is, “the causes of World War 1 remain controversial”, and even the BBC's revision page begins with, “historians disagree about what caused the First World War”. If it happened these days I reckon it'd be pretty simple to find out the cause. Just wait for any two world leaders to change their relationship status to, “it's complicated” and then simply DM them, “u ok hun?”, whilst stocking up on fucking tinned food. 

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A Lock Stock From The Boomer Generation

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Cunt, cunt, cunt, yadah, yadah, yadah, and then something offensive about a minority. That's pretty much a perfect summary of mockney berk Guy Ritchie's latest offering of cinematic cobblers. I should tell you what happens in The Gentlemen but then I'm not sure there'd be much left of the film for you to enjoy. Which is assuming there was anything there in the first place? Or maybe I'm being too harsh. It's a Guy Ritchie movie and so there's always a cool soundtrack. There might not be much worth seeing here but like a blind person that's developed an increased sense of hearing, Ritchie usually provides something fun for the old King Lears. That's rhyming slang for ears, by the way. Obviously. Rhyming slang has always seemed pretty pointless to me because all it does is change the keyword of the sentence with a usually more random and dumb one that sounds so close to the original that you could probably still guess it. Saying 'custard and jelly' instead of 'telly' doesn't make you sound cool and if you intend to use it as a code then I'm guessing we won't be needing Alan Turing any time fucking soon. It's also just like how Guy Ritchie's gangster films are all essentially rhyming slang for The Long Good Friday. They're the same thing but with a few details slightly tweaked in the presumed hope that it might not be noticed by the more easily baffled amongst us. Does “Dog and Bone” mean telephone? Nah guv. Course it doesn't, now you carry on and mind your business. Is there a shot involving a characters fate in The Gentlemen that's a direct rip-off of the superior The Long Good Friday's iconic conclusion? Err... just you watch it you daffy or I'll fucking spanner you right in your fucking mug, okay?!

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Who’s Strangling The Cat?

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So I just used up eight of my nine lives attempting to endure what felt like the four-day running time of Cats and I'm honestly still not sure what in the living blue fuck it was all about. This movie is our generation's Vietnam in that there will be people living with the haunting horrors of what they've seen for decades to come. This movie is what I imagine you'd hallucinate as you die in a gutter having drunk nothing but cats piss for an entire month. There are just so many questions that the viewer is left asking but the most important one is simply, 'why?' Why do the cats in this film look like they do? It's like the Thundercats decided to join an amateur dramatic society instead of going to the fucking gym. When was this film set? Because I would guess that it's some time after the apocalypse when all that's left of our species are the children of the cats that we had sex with to pass the time. I was once in a cubical in the toilets in a pub and as I opened the door to leave, my eye-line was directly on target to spot on old man's dick as he took a piss at a urinal. I hadn't known he was there or I'd have been at least a little more prepared to avert my eyes but the result was that his chubby little potato dick ended up burnt onto my retinas forever. Previously I'd have told you that was probably the worst thing I'd ever seen in my life but the hellscape that is Cats has probably just taken the crown from his stinky-looking and distinctly vegetable-shaped cock-head. 

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Anger Leads To Hate

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You all remember Rose from the previous Star Wars movie right? She was the character that taught one of our main heroes why kindness is so important and why love is more powerful than hate. She was endearingly played by the actress Kelly Marie Tran who then went on to receive so much racist abuse for having appeared in the movie that she had to delete all of her social media accounts to get away from it. Well, you cunts will be happy to know that she's barely in this new movie. You won. Every online prick that derided The Last Jedi for daring to be original, to dodge cliché, and to be fresh, has gotten their own fucking way. And don't give me any of that shit about you being fans and that you simply knew better than the previous writer and director because you can absolutely get fucked on that one. I've been obsessed with Star Wars since I was seven years old and I'll hands down challenge any of you motherfuckers to a Star Wars-off without even breaking a fucking sweat. I live, breathe, and sleep Star Wars to the point that I accidentally had my very first wank whilst I was lying in bed as a kid and using my dick as a joystick to fly my imaginary X-Wing on what turned out to be a particularly turbulent assault on the Death Star. What an explosive ending that turned out to be. Do you know the master-cheat to the N64's Star Wars: Podracer? Because not only do I still remember it, RRTANGENTABACUS, but I have that shit constantly repeating in my head like I'm being hounded by a dyslexic force ghost with fucking Tourette's. 

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This Film Could Reshape Your World View

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Does anybody know what fucking number movie Jumanji: The Next Level is? I'd been calling it the third one because there were clearly two that came before it but then somebody in work was referring to it as the second because they were too young to have remembered the Robin Williams one from the '90s. Fucking young people. Maybe they were right though, with these more recent ones counting as reboots because that first film had people fucking about with a board-game but now the characters seem to be going into a video-game instead. Plus if we're including the Robin Williams original as still being part of the continuity then technically we're also including that film's forgotten sequel Zathura: A Space Adventure aren't we? So that means that Jumanji: The Next Level is the second instalment if there's been a reboot, the third if there's not been a reboot, and the fourth if there's not been a reboot and we're counting Zathura. And why the fuck wouldn't you count Zathura at this point? I suppose this new one could technically be the third too if we were ignoring the very first Jumanji but still counting Zathura but I'm disregarding that as that would clearly be fucking madness. Anyway, I know the meaning of life now. I figured it out whilst watching this new Jumanji movie, in fact. Since I now know all that there is to know about the nature of our very existence, I need the little questions about which number in the franchise this new film is to keep my mind active. You want to know about the meaning of our place in the world too? Then go and watch this film, I guess!

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A Total Eclipse Of The Heart

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We live in a weird time in which it seems that quite a lot of movie icons are having children that look suspiciously like clones of them. Have you seen Danny DeVito's daughter Lucy? I know this doesn't make any sense, but imagine if Danny DeVito was an attractive young woman and that's pretty much exactly what she looks like. If the internet ever went down and all I had for a power wank was the poster for Batman Returns then thanks to having seen her I reckon I could probably manage. Perhaps the most famous right now though is Scott Eastwood who has spent most of his career being cast as various white boys with the word 'jock' in their character description. He's okay but if his father hadn't made history with a cowboy hat and a cracked scowl then I'm not sure that young Scott would have even managed to crack the film industry as an out of focus extra in a low budget porno. Although if he did then I bet it'd be a porno called A Fistful Of Cock. If somebody had told me that he was a cheap 1960's Clint Eastwood action figure that had been possessed by the soul of Paul Walker then I'd probably believe them. But right now I've just seen a film called Midnight Sun which features Patrick Schwarzenegger, the clone son of Arnold Schwarzenegger and I was excited to see quite how far the apple had fallen from the old Austrian Oaktree. I'm not entirely sure who Patrick Schwarzenegger's mother is, if you're interested, although at this point I suspect that Arnie would probably have to fucking Google it too.

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It's What It Is

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I squeezed a blob of mayonnaise onto my chips the other day and ended up sinking into a full-blown existential crisis. What the fuck is the point of being alive I wondered? At the most basic level, it's to pass on my genetics by having children, right? But if that bottle of mayonnaise had cost me a couple of quid, then each small blob is worth a fraction of that overall price. Obviously. But to pay for that bottle I'd had to go to work where I'd exchanged a percentage of my very limited time on this planet for the life-coupons that we call money. The mayonnaise may have only cost two pounds but that cash was a representation of the life that I'd given up to acquire it. Each blob that went onto my chips suddenly felt like a manifestation of all that I am, have been, and ever will be. Is that too dramatic a claim? Because that mayonnaise was a condiment that I'd apparently decided was more important to my very existence than literally anything else that I could have done with the time that it had cost me. So maybe the point of life is for me to shoot a couple of kids out of my dick. But whether you're having a child or buying a bottle of mayonnaise it seems that you're only going to end up squirting your fucking life away regardless.

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Frozen 2 The Bone

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Frozen 2 is The Empire Strikes Back of this franchise in that it's a little darker than the first instalment and because I'm becoming increasingly confident that the central siblings are probably fucking each other. Wasn't there a bit in the first movie where the Snow Queen Elsa essentially came out as gay during a flamboyantly diva-ish musical number? I hope I'm not making that up because I have almost zero intention of going back to check it out. Well, in this movie it seems that she's in some sort of sexy-fun-time relationship with her sister which is pretty incredible of Disney. It's about time that they had a gay couple at the heart of one of their films although it's pretty ballsy of them to then have them so closely related. If it were me I'd have started with a couple of kissing cousins to test the waters but Disney seems to have muff-dived straight in with a sister-on-sister lez-off. I mean, not really, obviously. But there's quite a lot of focus on Elsa and her sister Anna's love for each other and that's just generally not something that you see in a movie outside of the porn industry. So you can see why I got confused? Maybe Frozen 2 is how all pornos would go if the pushy plumber failed to turn up and the two sisters were able to just go on an adventure instead?

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Falling Into The Booby Trap

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A few weeks before the new Tomb Raider film came out, the Jennifer Lawrence fronted Red Sparrow was also released which caused people to wonder if this might be a renaissance period for female-led franchise films. Does anybody even remember Red Sparrow anymore though? Did that end with somebody getting their skin ripped off by a cheese grater or am I just confusing it with the time I tried to make a pizza whilst stoned? Either way, it wasn't exactly successful and so Tomb Raider was left alone in carrying the burden of being an action movie that didn't focus exclusively on a white male actor who was probably called fucking Chris or something. Not only that but they decided to set themselves something of a challenge by making a movie that was also based on a video-game. For anybody that's never seen the Super Mario Brothers or Street Fighter films, this is generally about as good an idea as sticking your dick into an electrical socket to power the toaster that you're about to shove up your arse. Whether you play games or not however, the odds are that you'll know the name Lara Croft with her having achieved a somewhat iconic status already and having already previously featured in two earlier Tomb Raider movies. If not then she's basically a gun-toting archaeologist that teenagers used to secretly tug one out to in the '90s.

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