Yippee Ki Yay, Baby Jesus

From what I've heard Christmas is meant to be a time for families to all get together whilst giving each other thoughtful gifts. Last Shitmas I told my Dad what DVDs I was excited about and hinted heavily that they might make some good presents. You can imagine my excitement when I opened my main gift off him and it turned out to be a £2 fucking dinner tray. Later that night I found myself sat alone in my room, eating a cold turkey pizza whilst wishing that there was something better on television than Jingle All The Way. In a list of things funnier and more endearing than that film I would definitely have to include cock spots and cancer of the gooch. To make matters worse I was also eating my food straight off my knees like a proper fucking pauper. As it turns out, after mere hours of languishing in shear giddiness of my new gift, it had already been stolen from me. By 'pure coincidence', Dad had recently broken his own dinner tray and failed to notify me of the need to reserve my own sodding present. I know it's the thought that counts but the only thing that I could think at the time was, “what a tight fucking bastard'.

I know that shitmas is for children and religious crazies but it's still such a pain in the arse. There's only one thing that gets me temporarily into the festive spirit and that's watching my favourite Christmas movie. Every year without fail I genuinely spend the 24^th of December watching Die Hard and that's about as close as I get to enjoying the season. If watching Bruce Willis shoot a bunch of terrorists in the head doesn't make me feel Christmassy then absolutely nothing will.

"Young, dumb and full of his cum"

As action films go I'm sure we all agree that Die Hard is clearly the best. In fact I think there should be a mandatory prison sentences for anybody who thinks differently. It belongs in that small group of gung-ho movies that came out between about 1985 and 1995 that completely defined the genre. I suppose other examples could of course be things like Leon, Hard Boiled and everyone's favourite Brokeback/beat-em-up Point Break.This was almost the golden period of action movies in which they were both intelligent and aimed at adults. Before then they were all about Stallone-esque, beefcaked retards whose brains were about as big as their steroid-shrunk cocks. Obviously Arnie is excluded from that simply for being so in love with himself that it becomes genuinely infectious. You've got to admire a man who can say shit like, “Don't disturb my friend, he's dead tired”, and still in reality become an elected politician.

"Of course I need the power drill. There might be boys there."

So, released in 1988, Die Hard begins with Detective John McClane visiting his estranged wife Holly at her Christmas work party. They've been living apart for a while and despite Holly having a hair cut like a psychopaths uncontrolled pubes, he intends to try and reconcile their marriage. When reaching the merry shindig however, McClane finds his 're-fuck the wife' goal thwarted by Hans Gruber and his gang of obviously gay German porn stars. Posing as terrorists, Gruber and his men hold the whole building hostage in an attempt to rob its vaults of $640 million worth of untraceable bearer bonds. Presumably they intend to use the money to fund their various addictions to peroxide, steroids and poppers. I'm not generalising that to all gay people by the way, it's just that if this lot weren't violent terrorists then they'd definitely be just as happy working and playing hard in a funked up, disco steel-mill. Also I can't be sure but I'm pretty certain one of the terrorists is actually played by Jeffery Dahmer. I don't know how much necrophilia and cannibalism Gruber has planned for this robbery but I guess it can't hurt to be prepared.

Meanwhile in another part of the building, McClane is scampering about upstairs like the barefoot bandit. Having heard the gunshots outside his room, his policing instincts kicked in causing him to leave the hostages in danger as he ran away to hide. Unfortunately for him this happened during a moment of relaxation in which he had removed his socks and shoes to make weird feet fists on the carpet. Although this is a problem for him, it could be worse. Considering how Richard Gere relaxes he'd have spent the entire movie fighting terrorists with a little mouse tale poking out of his arsehole.

"Dammit Janet, just smile for Christ's sakes"

So with McClane hiding upstairs and wanting to show off to his bushy haired wife he decides to save the building. This means creeping about like a pesky member of the Vietcong and attacking whenever he finds a half-good moment or sees a flash of blonde. At the same time he's also got a direct radio to Gruber allowing the two men to flirt outrageously in a bid to work out what the other is after. Considering McClane wants Holly back and Gruber wants his men to stop being killed the movie is basically an explosive, redneck adaptation of that grotty, swinging TV show Wife Swap. I don't want to sound like a dick but in all honesty, if I was McClane I wouldn't go to the effort. Holly is played brilliantly by Bonnie Bedelia and she's a likeable enough character but not worth taking a bullet for. If you don't know what she looks like then just picture Susan Sarandon after she's surgically removed her sense of fun. In a way I like to think of Die Hard as an unofficial sequel to Thelma and Louise in which Bedelia plays a post-crash Sarandon whose had all the smiles smashed out of her.

In a way, and in her defence, I suppose you could argue that her character doesn't really have that much to be happy about. She's married to a man whose quickly going bald, she's being held hostage and she's living in the 80's. If I'd lived through ten years of shoulder pads, neon socks and Flashdance legwarmers then finding myself staring down the barrel of a gun would probably hugely cheer me up. Particularly if the man holding that gun was Alan Rickman giving the best performance of his movie career. I know that he was one of the best things about Harry Potter but even seeing him cast a spell isn't as magic as hearing the patronising way he pronounces, “Yippi Ki yay mutha falka”. If anything it's possibly that it's Rickman's villain that helps make this film stand above all those other action classics from that brief golden period. I don't remember the bad guy in Hardboiled but there's always been something a bit off putting about Patrick Swayze in Point Break. In fact there's something a bit off putting about Patrick Swayze in everything except when perfectly cast in Donnie Darko. I'm not suggesting that in real life he was a paedophile but that he simply had a pervy looking smile and creepy, beady eyes that made him very believable as one.

Merry Christmas, boys and girls!

So Die Hard has a great villain, meaning it's going to need a pretty good hero to match. Luckily then, Willis also showed up and delivered a career defining performance too. What's interesting when watching the film is just how normal McClane is. With its unsubtle title and brutal action reputation you'd expect the hero to be Bruce Willis at his burly best. However instead he's just your regular, average man. Admittedly he does kill a few terrorists without worrying so I guess he's actually your average American man. Although he gets quite neck-snappy at times he also has a little cry in the bathroom too. The closest I think Arnie ever got to crying was when he realised he couldn't fuck the alien's vagina-mouth in Predator. However just because McClane is more human than those other pumped-up, muscle-tards doesn't make him any less funny. Every word spoken in the Running Man is wet your pants hilarious but Die Hard actually makes you laugh intentionally. McClane is a desperate man and when faced with an impossible situation the best thing to do is really to just take piss. So it's good that when not killing the terrorists he spends his time winding them the fuck up. My favourite bit is obviously when he sticks one of his murder victims in a lift and writes on his jumper, “Now I have a machine gun. Ho, ho, ho”. It's actually about this point that I really start getting as close as possible to that Christmas feeling!

Obviously too it goes without saying that the action is clearly brilliant. In fact I would say that this one film has everything in it that you could possibly ask for from helicopter explosions to hanging Germans. The film was masterfully directed by John McTiernan who has since gone on to do absolutely fuck all. In 2008 he was sent to prison for his involvement with the dodgy private investigator Anthony Pellicano however I honestly think his more serious crime was the shitty 2002 remake of Rollerball. In his defence, I suppose he did direct Die Hard: With A Vengeance which although not as good as the original is still the best of the sequels. It seems to me that where the Die Hard Franchise is concerned, nobody making them seems to understand what made it so great in the first place. Each film has gotten bigger and bigger which is completely the wrong thing to do. The first was set in one building, then an airport, then New York, then most of America and apparently in the next instalment he's heading to Russia too. I can only assume as each setting gets larger that Die Hard 6 will be set on the fucking moon as McClane hides in a crater from the pissing clangers.

"Fritzl? Yippee Ki Yay, family fucker!"

The thing that makes the first film so great is its smaller and more claustrophobic setting. By being so trapped, there's a constant feeling of tension and an actual reason for him to be fighting the bad guys. If the makers of the franchise had seen sense, the sequels would have gone even smaller with the second being set in a single house and the third taking place in a Joseph Fritzl-esque sex dungeon. In fact, with his evil intent and Germanic accent, Fritzl himself would make a pretty good villain. He could play Gruber's father who traps Holly in a gimp-box out of revenge for the disruption of his family. Obviously we've not seen Die Hard 5 yet but by taking McClane to Russia I'm starting to worry that he's at the risk of becoming one of those Stallone-esque heroes from the 80's. The character is meant to be an everyman who happens to be a detective. I'm not the most well informed on international politics but I'm pretty sure a New York detectives jurisdiction doesn't quite stretch all the way over to Mother Ruski.

Merry fucking Christmas

Since its release back in 1988 Die Hard has almost become the joke answer when people are asked about their favourite christmas film. But for me when I say it, I'm being completely genuine. It's set during that crappy time, features a festive song by Dean Martin and ends with a feel-good moment in which money flutters down from the sky like it would if Donald Trump started sponsoring snow. I've already been told that this Christmas my Mum wants me to have left her house by 5:00pm because she, “wants to enjoy the day too”. Beyond being deeply offended by the burden that my company must be to the woman who selfishly spat me into this world, I will at least have plenty of time for more movies. Other alternative Christmas films that I recommend to those who hate the season as much as me are In Bruges, Brazil, OHMSS and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. My rule in selecting them are that they have to feature a Christmas tree and a lot of people have to die. McClane might have lamented his day being chased about by Terrorists but at least people were thinking about him. Die Hard is not only the greatest action film of all time but for me it really is the highlight of one miserable fucking day. 
 

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Timing Isn't My Strong Suit

Please explain to me how The Kings Speech is more worthy of the Oscar for best original screenplay than Inception. Nolan conceived his labyrinthian, brain maze all by himself whereas the plot for The Kings Speech can be found in any old dusty history book. I personally found it in “A History of British Scroungers, Volume 2” but I hear it's also told in, “Useless toffers, Part 4'.

When The King's Speech won every single prize going I started to get a little annoyed. I know the Academy Awards is a sham but do they have to make it quite so fucking obvious? Due to its dealings with the British Monarchy, disability and a period setting, the film just smacked of Oscar winner. I had no doubt that it would be an okay film but come on, it's just about some bloke with a faulty tongue and a prized metal hat. Inception had zero gravity fights, cities folding in on themselves and was the best Bond movie set in a head.

“One shall have both. Thanks Peasants”.

It didn't help that I have my own prejudice towards our Monarchy too. Apparently the Royal Family only costs the British public about the price of a cup of coffee. Although the word 'only' there is quite understated. During this recession, coffee, like our head of states, seems to be massively overpriced. With their pure bloodlines, huge wealth, pretentious duties and current irrelevance, I personally would prefer the caffeine. If a devout Royalist wants them that badly then maybe they should cover my costs as well as their own. It seems fairer than involuntarily forcing me to fund this Windsor dictatorship. Until the Queen and all our snobby Lords earn their cash and charge horse-first into battle for me, the tasty beverage wins out. To be honest I don't even like coffee, it's not the drink I want but the choice.

“If it bleeds, we can kill it”

Despite all that however, I never really thought that I wouldn't be a fan of The Kings Speech. It's just that at the time of release, I was sick of fucking hearing about it. Considering I'm not a fan of its subject matter and it had been massively overhyped, what took me by surprise though was just quite how good it actually was. In all honesty, it was absolutely phenomenal. In fact I would say that this movie is definitely the most interesting thing that the Royal Family have been associated with since The Queen shot the tyres from Diana's car, smoked a cigar and uttered an Arnie style one-liner.

For those who fill their ears with tar and live in lonely isolation under a boulder of misery, the plot of the film is fairly simple to explain. Soon to be King Colin Firth has a bit of a stutter which winds him the hell up. Like a pianist's fingers or a priest's cock, King Firth needs his voice to do his job and so begins visiting the eccentric Aussie speech therapist Captain Barbossa. During this course, Firth is subjected to bizarre treatments such as Jackanory karaoke and voluntary tourettes, whilst at the same time the two men slowly build up a raging bromance of love and respect. In fact, it's the relationship between these two men that forms the heart of the film. As it turns out, the biggest hurdle in their relationship is of course the King's dislike of being treated like your boring, old average human.

One of my hesitations before jumping into this movie was in how it would treat the Royal family. I suppose in a way it was my presumption that it would glamourise them and try to show them in an annoyingly mythical light. One that might imply they did cool things such as fight dragons and cut peoples heads off as though we were back in the good old days. I was therefore pleasantly surprised when it instead appeared to be rather neutral in judging them. Simply, whatever preconceptions and baggage you bring to the film with you will be reinforced throughout its running time. Royalists will find all the things they love such as sparkly jewellery, elitism and incest whereas I just see a system of pointless and unproductive snobbery. It's kind of like the mirror in Harry Potter in which all that's reflected is what you want to see. Although if, like Harry I'd looked into that mirror, it wouldn't have been my parents looking back at me. I don't know what would be there exactly but I suspect it'd involve Hermione and I know I'd be jizzing and crying.

“You promise I'll get a close up?”

So by catering for any baggage that you might bring to the movie, it then leaves you to simply judge it on its own merits. Now believe it or not but I have a couple of friends and they charge a very reasonable rate to speak to me. One of these chums had already seen the film and told me that the camera framing was very noticeably odd which to me seemed a strange thing to notice. Surely unless it included bizarre shots in which peoples heads are tucked into the bottom corner of the screen it couldn't be that weird could it? Well interestingly that's exactly what it does. The framing is used to replicate the feelings of Firths frustrated King and so is often claustrophobic, dizzying and forcefully charged to the tax payer. Ignore that last one- I'm really trying hard contain it here.

Like the King himself, the frame is generally steady and composed until it comes to his and Barbossa's vocal karma sutra sessions. During these scenes things go a little mental with the camera swooping around and about like a wild fucking zubat. I don't know what else Tom Hooper had previously directed but he should be certainly congratulated for this. In the past, films that deal with a similar subject such as Mrs Brown or The Queen have been rather obviously made for TV. Nothing is more distracting to a film than regularly timed intervals that force the viewer to watch adverts for Benylin, house insurance and tampons. However never once here did I subconsciously prepare myself for the inevitable television break. Unlike its movie colleagues, The Kings Speech really is a huge and tasty slice of cinematic cake.

“A condom is the glass slipper for our generation”

The cast too was on top form although to be fair when have that group ever been anything less than brilliant? Surprisingly though, it was Bonham Carter that really stole the show for me. My original thought was that as good as she is here, this is a fairly standard role for her. This part I guess was a bit like a cross between her Queen in the soulless Narnia clone Alice in Wonderland and Mrs Bucket in the much superior remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Then I realised that as a human, she was once also Marla Singer. It's a fact that I'd always known but never really thought about. Suddenly it stuck out like a saw thumb as I realised that this kindly woman married to Firth was the same woman who muttered the classic, classy line, “I haven't been fucked like that since grade school”. I guess it's a good sign for anyone when you can perform slow-motion, bullet-time sex with Tyler Durden and that image doesn't fuse itself to your career.

If there was any weak link with this movie it would sadly be Timothy Spall. I don't even mean weak link out of the actors, either. I mean regarding everything in the whole fucking film. For some reason he decided to play the part of Churchill as though he'd dressed up as him and gotten pissed at a shit fancy dress party. Whereas everybody else was giving more, subtle, tactful performances Spall was instead trying to play Churchill as one of those puppets from Spitting Image. His cheeks had comically dropped as though playing their own rules against gravity and he stamped about like John Wayne having just sat on the knife dildo from Se7en. It was as though an angry Mr Toad had been painted human and was being forced to croak his way through his lines before he dried up and perished. Usually Spall is pretty good value so it's a shame to have a go at him but fuck it, he was pretty shit.

"Please tell me he didn't stutter"

People have been comparing this movie to Rocky, which is true to a degree as both are films about an underdog who can't talk properly. Firth can't because he has a stammer, Stallone can't because he's part Gorilla, part stroke victim. Whereas Rocky's cheerful finale is an insignificant boxing match, King Firths moment of hurray is when he successfully announces an impending second World War. Maybe the War did kill over 60 million people throughout the world but we did win and King Firth didn't stutter once. So explain to me how exactly it was all such a tragedy. As Firth announced on the radio that everybody was going to die, it cut to shots of the public looking miserable. What was their problem? They should be happy for their King as he didn't stammer, God damn it! Maybe they were about to get the shit bombed out of them or sent away to be shot at by Germans, but still! Did they not know how many Doctors he'd had to visit to speak like that? He was forced to put marbles in his mouth at one point! If we're being honest, did the holocaust ever really get as bad as that? I know I went in disliking the Monarchy but I'd never previously known quite how much they'd had to suffer. Foreign readers might be interested to know that as well as the Royal Family, we Brit's are also known for our unstoppable and hugely irritating sarcasm. It's an annoying characteristic but one we generally feel the urge to deploy with a rare but stubborn sense of national pride.

"I wish I knew how to quit you.”

By the time the credits began to roll, I was a huge fan of this movie. It had reinforced my disapproval of the system, expertly told a pretty good story and successfully risen above the tiresome marathon of hype. I still don't think it was a more original film than Inception but then nor do I particularly rate the taste of the Oscar voters. As Driving Miss Daisy's 1989 win proved, they know about as much about a good film as Steven Seagal does when drunk on beer and ego. This is a feel-good movie which managed to uplift me despite its smiley King conclusion. The joy of watching Firth bond with Barbossa is so entertaining and genuine that I can't wait for them to go on a Brokeback-esque camping trip in the sequel. Based on The Kings Speech I'm both optimistic and excited to see Tom Hoopers next directorial effort. He might have made the Royal family into a tolerable screen presence, but he's going to have to be good in order for me to enjoy Les Miserables. A disabled King is one thing but I'll be damned if I can cope with two hours of whinging French peasants. 
 

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The Best Bad Idea!

When I was ten years old, I was kidnapped and held hostage. This is genuinely a true story. I was sleeping in a tent with three other friends whilst on a scout camp when something caused me to wake the fuck up. I don't remember what time it was but it was pitch black and for some reason I couldn't move my legs. Now, I'm not exactly an Olympic runner, but sudden paralysis can still be a little disconcerting. So I reached into my sleeping bag where I kept my torch, turned it on and discovered that I was in fact no longer in the tent at all.

I'd been dragged out a few feet into the centre of our site by a drunken middle-aged man who was now tightly holding onto my legs. As soon as he saw I was awake he informed me that I was in his sleeping bag and that he wanted it back. My 'Nutter Senses' instantly began to tingle and so I began negotiations. I informed him that he was unfortunately wrong and that in fact I actually suspected my friend was in his stolen sleeping bag. He agreed and released me so that I could go and find out. I woke everybody up, explained about my kidnap ordeal and then together we all convinced him to fuck the hell off. If you were to picture the scene, it would be a little like a cross between The Goonies and Deliverance. At the time I remained calm and wasn't phased in the slightest. If that happened now though I think I'd piss myself with fear and then puke myself to death. I didn’t even get a ‘hostage survival’ badge…

Ben Affleck's latest film Argo deals with a very similar situation to that of my horrific ordeal. It begins in 1979 when the U.S. embassy in Tehran is stormed by a shit load of angry militants. They manage to grab fifty hostages with only six people being able to escape and hide in the nearby home of the Canadian Ambassador. If someone has to make an entertaining film about the tensions between America and the Middle East then I can't think of anyone better than the crimson-gimped Daredevil.

"I dunno, just nail the fucker up
and see what happens..."

Poor old Affleck had a bit of a hard time when he was just a measly actor. It's not that he was bad at his job but that he often made some silly choices. In terms of his career it probably wasn't a good idea to feature so prominently in Surviving Christmas, Jersey Girl and Jennifer Lopez. However it's hard to sympathise with anyone who also willingly accepted a role in Michael Bay's Pear Harbour. Nor can I work out why he wanted to star in John Woo's awful film Paycheck although I suspect there might be a clue in its title. In 2007 he released his directorial debut Gone Baby Gone and thankfully it turned out to be seriously bloody good. I've seen it a few times now and I think that it's ultimate message is that even the scummiest of crackheads is better at raising a child than God is.

Argo is Affleck's third film as a director and his first to not take place in Boston. It tells the story of a rescue operation in which the CIA attempt to help the six people hiding out in the Canadian Ambassador's house in Iran. After exhausting all their various methods of extraction, they finally settle on what they consider their “best bad idea”. This includes faking the production of a movie, pretending to scout Iran for locations and then sneaking the six out as fellow filmmakers. However, if the CIA wanted a movie crew scouting for a film that will believably never get made, they should have simply hired Gilliam as the director. The fake script that they decide on is called Argo and just looks like some shoddy, shitty rendition of Star Wars... Or as we call it, The Phantom Menace.   

"Iran has got some Hostages and
now nobody is looking at me"

Argo opens with the not so new Warner Brothers logo which instantly sets the tone for the next two hours. The film aims to be an old school 70's political thriller and is even filmed to look like it was made in that decade. With its grainy, scratchy film and men with big moustaches, it's either a bit like All the Presidents Men or an old grotty porno. At the same time however, Argo appears to satirise Hollywood by depicting it with a superficial shininess and cynical, selfish attitude. The genius of the film is in how it balances the parallels of a tense political thriller with that of a knockabout Hollywood gigglefest. This all comes together during a scene in which they hold the press meeting for the fake sci-fi film. Whilst this is going on, several hostages are thrown in front of a firing squad who fuck with their mind by shooting empty guns at them. So I guess the thread that links all this together is the idea that everyone is putting on a show for the world. Whether you're a dick-licking Z-list celebrity or an Iranian Militant, the main agenda is to just be seen and to be heard. However if I was given the option to meet some attention-whore like Paris Hilton, then I'd probably prefer an hour with the firing squad.

Slimmer of the year 2001

In terms of casting the actual film, Affleck has done an excellent job. Bryan Cranston, Alan Arkin and John Goodman are all obviously brilliant in their supporting roles. Although, as great as he is, I was under the impression that Goodman had lost a lot of weight in real life. Either that's not true or Affleck has spent a large percentage of the budget on Fred Flintstone’s massive man tits.  Also, the six hidden in Iran are also brilliant with particular praise being owed to the actor from the film Monsters. I'm not sure of his name in real life but he was the thinner guy in this with a stupid paedo-tache and massive bullet-proof glasses. With his character constantly moaning, he could easily have come across as the token classroom dickhead. However when your only rescue plan sounds like the plot of a shit Arnie movie then I'd probably be a bit annoyed too. Because of this, his whining is pretty justified and his dicky fits are pretty understandable.

Titanic was based on a true story and so everybody going in already knew what would happen at the end. Winslet flashes her tits, DiCaprio turns blue and and James Cameron got stupidly rich. I won't ruin the end of Argo because despite it also being based on factual events, most people probably don't know what happened. There has however been some minor criticism of it as Affleck takes some narrative liberties in a bid to raise the tension, however I personally think he gets away with it by successfully making it so suspenseful that people in the audience actually started screaming out. There was one girl in the showing I was in who panicked and loudly shouted, “Just do it”. Considering that I don't live in America, for someone to do that must mean that the film is doing something seriously right. As happy as I was to know someone was that emotionally invested in the film however, I was very conscious that this is England. I don't care how into it they were, no cunt should be shouting anything out loud without expecting an angry glare, loud tut and a strongly worded letter. I don't see why I should be distracted from the movie because they're too retarded to control the connection between their brain and their mouth- having said that however, if someone so much as breathes too loudly near me, I want to stab them in the head until they learn how to shut the fuck up.

"Maybe I was a moose-faced, charisma vacuum"

During the credits there are photographs of the actual people that the actors played, and their resemblance is amazing. Not only has Affleck cast talented people but he's also somehow ensured that everybody is almost an identical double to their real life inspiration. Well, I say everybody, but there was one person in which certain liberties were taken. Tony Mendez is Argo's main character and the man tasked with helping the six Americans escape. In reality, Tony Mendez was a shorter looking Latino chap that actually would have been a good fit for John Leguizamo, however here he is instead played by Affleck himself, who felt that everybody should look true to life except the film’s main fucking character. I don't know how Affleck ended up playing Mendez but I suspect it had something to do with him tossing off the director. Not that I'm complaining by the way, as he still does a really good job in what is actually a fairly thankless role. He might be the hero but there's no rousing speeches or moments of celebrity glory. Instead Affleck mopes about the film bleary eyed and smoking like a man who’s finally gotten around to reading those old Gigli reviews.

Not that he needs to worry about the reviews he's receiving for Argo, which have been unbelievably positive. In my opinion, Affleck is now one of those rare great actors who just like Clint Eastwood, George Clooney and Ron Jeremy has also become a great director. There are talks that this could be up for 'best picture' at next years Oscars but as Rocky proved, the Academy Awards don't mean shit. Either way however, I think it's fair to say that Affleck is now one of the most exciting directors currently working. If Gone Baby Gone proved that he could make a film and The Town proved it wasn't a fluke then I guess Argo goes to demonstrate his ambition and range. I don't know what he's doing next but I'm looking forward to it. Nothing he ever does will be better than the song, “I'm fucking Ben Affleck”, but at least he's trying, bless him.

 

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Branching Out

For some reason there are certain things that just seem impossible to photograph. The Loch Ness Monster, Big Foot, and Terrence Malick are all undeniably camera shy with some people even doubting whether or not they actually exist. Since his feature film debuted in 1973, there have been many reported sightings of the reclusive filmmaker although most have been debunked as simple hoaxes. If the camera isn't out of focus or too shaky, then the odds are that it's just someone wearing a rubber Malick suit in the distance. In actual fact I once thought I'd spotted the legendary movie maker surfacing for air in the middle of a lake. Turns out it was just a rotten log and a dead badger.

Since releasing Badlands almost forty years ago, Malick has become one of the most respected and critically adored filmmakers of all time, which is impressive considering that in the entirety of the last four decades he's only made about five fucking films. In half that time alone, Michael Bay has produced enough shite to fill an entire cathedral with bollocks movies. Until recently, the only two Malick films that I'd seen were Badlands and The Thin Red Line and I was obviously a huge fan of both. They were meditations on the nature of humanity and both were shot with a poetic love for life. The Thin Red Line has a huge cast consisting of cinema’s most famous faces and yet it’s shots of leaves and crocodile shit that Malick decides to focus on the most.

The latest of his films to be released is The Tree of Life which, despite being heckled at Cannes, managed to end up winning the 2011 Palme D'or. I know a film being booed is usually considered a bad thing but when it's coming from the French, I'll generally make an absolute effort to love it. With this in mind I finally got around to watching it the other night and was absolutely blown away. How the French can boo what is obviously a masterpiece is completely beyond me. First they surrendered Paris to the Nazi's and now this. It's just one stupid mistake after another with them, isn't it.

Jeff Spicoli: Earth's Mightiest Hero

It's hard to kind of describe the plot of The Tree of Life, but I'll have a go anyway. So- for some reason it starts with Sean Penn walking around aimlessly in a modern day city. I'm not sure what he's doing there but I don't think it really matters. It's Sean Penn, so he's probably just roaming the Earth, looking for some political injustice to get angry about. When the world is controlled by shadowy Corporations and corrupt Governments, it honestly makes me feel so much safer to know that we're being protected by an ageing Jeff Spicoli.

The film then starts to depict Penn's birth and childhood. He was raised in the 50's in Texas by Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain. He has two brothers with the family grieving over the sudden death of their oldest son. His mother is depicted angelically as a woman who wants to instil her children with a sense of wonder for the natural world. Brad Pitt on the other hand has the temper of a cunt and thinks the world's going to shit. Whilst she's outside pissing about with butterflies, he's inside teaching the kids that society is a manipulative rapist that will sly-fuck them into the grave. At one point, he educates his son on how to defend himself by asking him to punch him in the face. For some reason though the child seems bizarrely reluctant to physically assault his own Dad. As we all know though, when Brad Pitt asks you to hit him, you do so immediately and you aim straight for his fucking ear.

Whilst Penn's character’s childhood does take up the bulk of the film, there's also a few other things thrown in for good measure. Every so often, we're randomly treated to some scenes from the creation of the Universe which, to be fair, are absolutely mesmerising. Responsible for these shots was legendary special effects Supervisor Doug Trumbull who had worked on 2001: A Space Odyssey and whose previous film had been Blade Runner almost thirty years previous. I watched his work on The Tree of Life and was in absolute awe of how eye-bleedingly gorgeous everything looked. I seriously wouldn't recommend watching whilst stoned though as you could easily lose a few hours to gawping at any single frame of this film, though having said that, I did also once lose about fifteen long minutes by just staring intently at a door handle. It looked so plastic and shiny that in my stupor, I seriously couldn't believe my luck.

"Clever girl..."

There's another scene thrown into this film too which actually received a little bit of criticism. A dinosaur is lying helpless by the side of a stream when a larger carnivore heads over to eat it. Before the sharp tooth chows down however, he has a second thought and decides instead to scuttle off without murdering his intended victim. If only OJ Simpson had a similar epiphany then perhaps that murder that he 'didn't' commit wouldn't have happened either. This is apparently supposed to represent the birth of conscience with the meat eater feeling too guilty to kill its helpless meal. Most critics seem to think that overall this section is just a little bit out of place but fuck it, they're all wrong. In fact I don't think there's a single film out there that couldn't be improved with a few extra dinosaur scenes thrown in for good measure. Sure The Godfather is great but is a T-Rex's head not more threatening than a horse’s? If there was a risk of a Raptor attack in any of Katherine Heigl's movies, one of them might even be in danger of being watchable. There's a big emphasis on the word ‘might’, there.

So as is probably obvious, The Tree of Life doesn't have a standard and straight forward narrative. In a way, this film actually consists of two separate halves. The first is a montage of those above sections, highlighting the poetry of love, death and nature. There's the beauty of the universe, the kindness of a species and the sheer joy of Penn's youth. In fact I think this could be the most exuberant depiction of childhood that could exist without an XBox or widescreen TV. On one of the rare occasions that my boyhood self decided to play outside, I ended up finding cans of beer and grotty pornography in the bushes. It was one of those ‘reader’s wife’ magazines featuring such a manky standard of fanny that I think I was genuinely traumatised for a good few years by it. The young Penn however luckily just plays ball games and frolics in fields with his brothers.

"Ah... Flash back humour."

If it wasn't for Pitt's brooding bulk of insecurities then everything in the boy’s life would be great. It's not that Pitt doesn't love his kids; it's more that he wants to ensure they're hardened to a world that's disappointed him. He'd dreamed of being a musician but ended up being a failed business man. In fact everything that irks Pitt here was cheerfully summed up by Pitt in 1999, “We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off”.

The second half of the film tones down the collage of beauty and instead focuses a little more on the 50's upbringing. The young Penn also starts to become angry and disillusioned by his father after noticing the hypocrisies of what he preaches and how he acts. In fact the film surprisingly starts heading slightly into Badlands territory as the young boy goes a little off the rails turning slightly into Sid from Toy Story. He starts vandalising buildings, assaulting people and abusing animals. At one point he ties a frog to a firework and sets it off. I'd like to say this scene ends with the frog, “falling with style”, but it doesn't, he just explodes like a big green twat. I can't say for sure, but I suspect this is about the point that the French audience probably started booing.

Moustache, coffee stain or caterpillar?

Easily every single thing about this film can be described as beautiful. Generally I hate that word because it has too many vowels and makes me sound either a little pretentious or a little gay. However it really does apply to every single aspect of The Tree of Life. The visuals, the music, the themes and Jessica Chastain are all heart stabbingly beautiful here. The acting is also inspiringly great with particular praise being owed to Hunter McCracken. McCracken is the chap who brilliantly plays the young Penn with the character really appearing in his more youthful form for ninety-nine percent of the film. It would have been fairer for me to instead refer to Penn's performance as the Older McCracken but fuck it, since when was life fair? If he wants to compete with Penn for fame then he's got to spend the next few decades churning out brooding performances, engaging in political activism and growing a distinctively shitty moustache. Beating the living shit out of Madonna once or twice would probably help too.

"I'm 21 and wearing nothing but nipple tassles."

So anyway I guess I should say what The Tree of Life is actually all about but in honesty I haven't got a fucking clue. I mean, I can see that it's examining the meaning of life and exploring the presence of God or divinity in nature but I'm not sure what's concluded. However I don't think that it's a film that intends to provide any definitive answers either. It's one of those movies with enough openness and ambiguity that I think it will just feed back to you with whatever you go in looking for. Kind of like having a conversation on one of those sex lines where they're always just going to tell you what you want to hear.

Special Effects aside, this film obviously has a lot of thematic and narrative similarities with 2001: A Space Odyssey as both are films that look at the origins of life, the purpose of existence and how everything links together. However, where Kubrick's film can appear cold-hearted and pretentious, Malick's plays out like it's straight from his heart. In my opinion, 2001 has a kind of lecturing feel whilst The Tree of Life is more like a poetry of observations and of optimistic expressions.  If Kubrick was the strict Professor shutting the class room blinds on a sunny day then, Malick would be the soon-to-be-fired hippy teacher dicking about in the leaves and mud outside.

Malick on set of latest film?

It should probably also be pointed out just quite how autobiographical and personal this is for Malick too. He was raised in a similar place at a similar time and within a similar family setup. The film contains all of his usual nuances such as whispering voice-overs, use of natural light, a warm but smothering sense of existentialism and of course, a couple of neglected A-List actors. Sean Penn was allegedly pissed off with the film because his character ended up with significantly less scenes than he'd filmed. Although I can see why he'd be annoyed, I wasn't the one who spent time filming them, so fuck him.

The Tree of Life is such a phenomenal and joyous movie that I genuinely think it should be shown and discussed in schools. Teachers put plenty of effort into convincing kids to read books but not enough into weaning them onto decent movies. It might sound like a sit off, but encouraging children to write an essay on their perceived philosophies of this film would probably be more beneficial than pretending to read Macbeth for the five-hundredth time. If we taught them the joy and truth of cinema then perhaps cunts like Michael Bay wouldn't be so rich. When I was in school, there was a teacher who was a domestically abused, alcoholic with a lesson plan consisting of simply handing out word searches. As much as we used to enjoy how her horrific personal life would allow us an easy lesson, a movie from Terrence Malick would probably have been somewhat more educational.

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