Sharking A Lively Chum

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People say that the reason Jaws is scary is due to our fear of the unknown. When we're bobbing about on the surface of the water there could be literally anything below, and that's what terrifies us the most. I'd argue that, as true as that is, the other reason it's scary has probably got something to do with the giant fuck-off shark in it. I mean, look at those fucking things. They're basically torpedoes with teeth at one end, an arse at the other, and the black, soulless eyes of Piers Morgan. I'm told that Jaws isn't really an accurate representation of a shark's behaviour and has resulted in the poor wickle fishey's being demonised. Awe! It must be so hard being one of the most perfectly evolved predators on the planet and knowing that us tasty humans think that you're a bit of a twat. Literally the only way that they could look more like killers would be if they had a skull tattoo on their fin and just below their nose was the moustache of Danny fucking Trejo.

Why It's Good That People Might Hate This Movie

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A lot of people are going to hate Star Wars: The Last Jedi. But then a lot of people believe that it's good luck to be shat on by a bird as it flies over and so ultimately who even gives a fuck about what 'people' think? When reading about the latest Star Wars movie, it's always useful to know how a person already feels about the franchise in order to gauge the reason for their response and decide how much shite they're talking. Oh, you think Jar Jar is shit because he's for children, but the Ewoks are cute? Just give me a second to ignore almost everything that your nostalgia-cursed brain is about to crap out. Not that I'm defending Jar Jar of course. Fuck him. He literally looks like a racist person dreamed about that time a Rastafarian accidentally fucked a duck. To get you up to speed with me, I fell in love with the original films during the 1997 re-release at the perfect age of 8. When I was a kid, Han Solo was the coolest person I could think of that wasn't Roger Moore, and as a 12 year old I accidentally had my first wank whilst using my cock to pilot my imaginary X-Wing as I tried to blow up the Death Star. Who knew an explosion could be so life changing?! I was about ten years old when the prequels came out and, initially, I loved them, but as I became increasingly infected by common sense, I came to see them for the soulless husks of crap they are. Oh.. and to skip to the end.. I loved The Last Jedi with pretty much all of my cholesterol-choked heart.

How's Your Father?

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You might not think it at first glance but Lethal Weapon and Daddy's Home 2 actually make a pretty good Christmas movie double-bill. The first film begins with Mel Gibson sticking a gun in his own mouth and the second one ends with you wishing you could join him. I don't know if you saw the first Daddy's Home film but I hope you did because this sequel certainly fucking assumes that you have. Without offering any context Daddy's Home 2 shows Mark Wahlberg and Will Ferrell obsessing over each other, worrying about each other, and doing their best to make sure that their children are happy. I had to explain to my friend who was new to the franchise that the two men were step-parents to each others kids and not as this film presents them; a gay couple designed by the fucking Stepford Wives. The set up for this movie is that the two men have decided to combine their families and spend Christmas together. Except, to avoid it descending into an exact replica of the first film, they've also decided to invite both of their own fathers, John Lithgow and Mel Gibson, to join them. And then later on John Cena turns up too as somebody else's Dad for some reason. Essentially this movie is like a festive set remake of Multiplicity except instead of a load of Michael Keaton clones you get a conveyor belt of shit Dads turning up instead.

The Faulty Tower

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The Dark Tower tells the story of a teenaged boy whose parents are worried about the fact that he's constantly having strange dreams about a huge tower and a man with a big gun. No guesses as to what all that symbolises. Rather than accepting their son's obviously repressed homosexuality however they decide to send him to a psychiatrist. Or maybe it's because of his obviously repressed homosexuality that they've decided to send him there? This is America after all! I should point out that at no point does the film actually deal with the issue of homosexuality in any way, shape, or form. But if the kid came to me and explained that dream to me then I don't think I'd be blamed for giving him a pat on the back, telling him that it doesn't matter, and then hoofing him out the door for an impromptu holiday to Brighton. Anyway - so the kid's dreams come true, he travels through a magical portal into a far away world, Idris Elba protects him from monsters, and Matthew McConaughey tries to get him to scream down a tower that's protecting our planet from a demon attack. You'll notice that I didn't add “and he got the girl” in there. Hmm...

They Deserved Justice

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Despite my better judgement I was actually looking forward to Batman V Superman, and so you can imagine how silly I felt when it turned out to be a shit-spackled slab of cinematic dross. You can probably also imagine how silly I felt when, after having seen it, I again found myself getting excited for its Justice League sequel. Had I already forgotten about Jessie Eisenberg's performance as Lex Luthor which was more annoying than a wart on the gooch? Surely I could remember the 'Martha, Martha, Martha!' scene which made less sense than Donald Trump's pubic knots? Well, despite all of this, I had a small lump in my heart that Superman would no doubt claim as 'hope'. On retrospect it was probably just mounded cholesterol because, in the words of the great George W Bush, “Fool me once, shame on.. shame on you. Fool me... You can't get fooled again!” Without trying to mince my words, I am unhappy to report that Justice League is load of total wank.

Life Is Unbearable

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I remember playing in a park when I was a child, when a friend casually dropped her pants and took a shit on the ground. I don't know what game she thought we were playing but it made finding her during 'hide and seek' a hell of a lot easier. Her public dumping seemed odd at the time, except since then the rest of the world seems to have turned to shit too, and so what the hell difference does one extra turd make? At one point during Paddington 2, Julie Walters' character declares that “all actors are evil”... She only says that too because she saw an actor trying to steal something. Wait until she gets backstage with Kevin Spacey; then she'll see what they're really capable of. As I write this now, the comedian Louis C.K. has just had to issue an apology for forcing women to watch him wank off, because the entertainment industry apparently only hires rapists, perverts, or Piers fucking Morgan. Over here in Britain, we're shooting ourselves in the cock with a little project called Brexit that allowed xenophobes to pretend that they actually have a deep and complex understanding of the economy. Oh and let's not forget the game show host in the White House that's attempting to start a nuclear war over Twitter to compensate for the fact that the only thing lower than his I.Q. is his droopy old-man balls.

A Pleasant Enough Ride

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Murder On The Orient Express tells the story of a large moustache as it's forced to participate in a murder investigation by its detective owner. Hercule Poirot is everybody's favourite Belgian detective after Tintin's dog, with this film telling the story of his inability to travel from one point to another without tripping over another corpse. Even when the fucker is off duty he manages to find himself in the company of a murder victim and for some reason the police never seem to even suspect that he might be the killer. I mean, even the simple villagers only believed the boy who cried wolf a couple of times... Poirot, it seems, could literally be unloading his balls onto a corpse and the police seemingly wouldn't even question him. Anyway, the story begins here when Poirot boards a train in which a sinister chap played by Johnny Depp is murdered. Although considering that we now live in a post-Weinstein world, the story could almost have skipped the murder altogether and simply had him try to work out which of the A-List cast wasn't a sexual predator. As Poirot prowls the train he claims to be the worlds greatest detective and yet this is a case that seems to stump him. I don't mean to brag but it doesn't take the worlds greatest detective to solve the case of the dead Johnny Depp. Just check who might still be the beneficiary of his life insurance and then point the fucking train in the direction of Amber Heard's house.

Gerard Butler's Best Film Yet?!

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Geostorm begins with a sub-Sarah Connor-esque voice-over in which we're told that we should have been nicer to the planet before it began fucking us over with the weather. But who cares? I live in England. We've been getting fucked by the weather since time began! In fact the more extreme the weather gets, the happier we secretly are, with a good moan being one our favourite things to do after making a cup of tea and indulging in some casual racism. Anyway don't worry about all that global warming shite because Gerard Butler has designed a satellite-thing that floats around in space and can manipulate the weather in order to prevent any potential disasters. And let's face it.. if Gerard Butler can solve the problem then any old prick with at least a couple of opposable thumbs and a rough grasp of how to walk upright will probably be able to manage it. The problem is that things have started to go wrong with the satellite due to the sinister interference of somebody intending to fuck the weather up and wreak cheap CGI destruction on the planet. Butler has therefore been sent up to solve the mystery before things get worse, which is despite the much bigger mystery at the centre of this movie of... how the fuck does the 'actor' Gerard Butler still get work?

Waititi's Lightning In A Bottle?

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Thor movies are a bit like taking a massive fart. When done with the right amount of humour there's a good chance that you'll get away with it and everything will be okay. However, and as was the case with Thor: The Dark World, if the thing feels as though it's been forced out for the sake of it then, like a fart, there's also a definite possibility that you'll be left with something 'a little shit'. It also seems that the best films within the MCU are made by directors of note. Shane Black's Iron Man 3 was his typical Christmas-set story of a wise-talking crime fighter that gets wrapped up in a Hollywood conspiracy. Joss Whedon's Avengers was his usual group of weirdos coming together to form a surrogate family with each other as they battle supernatural-esque forces. With Thor: Ragnarok we see the comedy genius of indie director Taika Waititi as he makes what he drunkenly described in an interview as being “about a guy just trying to get home because there's a burglar in his house, and he's stuck with this giant bi-polar guy who gets angry all the time, and a drunk chick, and an annoying brother, and that's it. But with spaceships... and Jeff Goldblum”.

Kick My Brains Around The Floor

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Atomic Blonde's stench is so thick with the intoxicating funk of the 1980's that it feels like you've fallen asleep on a post-rave David Hasselhoff and then suffocated to death on the fumes of his hair spray. From one half of the directing duo behind the unquestionably brilliant John Wick, you might assume that this film will equally be a Charlize Theron-shaped kick to the bollocks. And you'd be right. However Atomic Blonde is also a German-set espionage adventure that takes place as the Berlin wall looks as likely to fall as a piss-head on a pogo-stick before he slurs the condemning phrase of, “wanna see something cool?” As such the story here isn't quite as streamlined as John Wick's “get the fuck away from my dog” simplicity with this sister film including a hint of John le Carré to go with its kick-ass John Woo-iness. Theron plays Broughton, an MI6 agent tasked with retrieving a stolen list containing the names of every single undercover agent that's currently on active duty. Or as the script, in our post-Mission: Impossible, Post-Skyfall world should probably have said, “insert cliched MacGuffin here”.

Is The Blade Runner Sequel A Benefit Or A Hazard?

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Like the sky being blue, two and two equalling four, and Piers Morgan being a rancid cock of a man, there are some things in life that simply can not be argued with. The status of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner as a masterpiece is also one of these things. Few works of art have gone on to influence so much in their wake, with Blade Runner being directly responsible for everything from the design of almost every sci-fi film since its release to the simple fact that even my fucking phone is now 'more human than human'. When asked if he was nervous about entering Ridley Scott's world with his sequel Blade Runner 2049, director Denis Villeneuve responded, “of course. I had to find a way of not being like a vandal in a church”. Well, it turns out that the talented prick need not have worried because in the way that his film focuses on the mystery of a miracle, it seems that he has delivered one of his own. Not only is he not a vandal at the church but he's taken a sledge hammer to its back wall and discovered a secret cathedral hidden behind. If Blade Runner is sci-fi's holy grail then in the way that this sequel maintains its core themes and mysteries whilst also expanding on them and exploring its own agendas, Blade Runner 2049 is the holy grail but with added bells and tits on it.

The Times They Aren't A-Changin'

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Kathryn Bigelow's latest film Detroit deals with the race riots of the 1960's, with particular focus on the horrors of one particular night. Whilst staying in a cheap and shitty hotel, several innocent black characters and two white girls find themselves lined up against a wall by the police who then proceed to beat, humiliate, and occasionally murder them. Suddenly I don't feel I can moan about how crap my night in a Travelodge was, even though there was a bit of shit on the shower curtain and some snot on the pillow. Some people might wonder why Bigelow chose to make this film now. After all, slavery was abolished over 140 years ago and, bar a few minor blips like this film depicts in the 60's and 70's, I think more or less everything has been plain sailing for black people since then. I mean, sure, they're still getting shot by the police in America for having done literally fuck all, and the leader of the free world does seem to be a racist fuck-wit that's supported by a group of small-dicked Nazi's that he refuses to condemn. But you know, “there's blame on both sides”; black people for understandably desiring equal rights and opportunities, and racists for having the IQ of a dying skunk's stagnant faecal matter.

The Golden Circle Of Life

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A little while ago I heard an interview in which director Matthew Vaughn said that he'd dreamt up a scenario for Mark Strong's character in his Kingsman sequel that was so batshit and insane that he'd have to ask the actor's permission before committing to the idea. Considering quite how insane the first movie got in which Pride And Prejudice's dashing Mr Darcy fucked up a church full of arse-holes to the sound of both 'Freebird' and a lisping Samuel L Jackson, this seemed like quite a statement for Vaughn to make. Having now seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle I feel I can confirm too that his idea was literally off the charts in its insanity. So off the charts in fact that I actually have no idea as to what it might have been because presumably Mark Strong told him “Err.. no”. From start to finish I spotted literally nothing in this movie that Mark Strong's character did in which you'd assume the director would need permission before writing it into the script. Especially when you consider that Strong only recently appeared in the shite film Grimsby in which his character had to hide up one elephant's vagina as another elephant stuck its cock in, started the special cuddle that people in love do, and then finally jizzed all over him.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

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There's a knock at the door, Javier Bardem's man of the house opens it to reveal a stranger and for some reason his wife, Jennifer Lawrence, doesn't divorce him straight away. If somebody I know knocks on my door then I dive behind the sofa as though a fucking shot has just been fired through the window. If it's a stranger knocking then not only am I not going to answer but I'm one fucking step away from setting the dogs on them. Luckily for them that one step is actually owning some attack dogs, but even if I'm not having these wannabe-guests ripped apart, then I'm still certainly not going to invite them in. Alas this is exactly what Bardem does when Ed Harris's stranger comes a-knocking and despite the fact that they don't know each other from fucking Adam, it's decided that the guest can stay the night. Not that Lawrence is especially happy about this because not only is Ed Harris a stranger but he's also Ed fucking Harris. Nothing good ever happens in movies when Ed Harris shows up. Hey, do you remember that movie where Ed Harris turns up and they all live happily ever after? No! Because it never fucking happens!

King Of Clowns

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It tells the story of a creature that is tormenting the children of a town called Derry by taking the form of their biggest fears. Imagine a 1970's BBC presenter but that lives in the sewers and has slightly less embarrassing hair and you're basically there. A few years ago I got a little too stoned, downed a boiling-hot mug of hot chocolate, tried to tug myself off, felt ill because of the drink, accidentally fell asleep, and then woke up six hours later with chocolate caked around my mouth and my cock still in my hand. If I'd seen this shapeshifting monster as a child then I'm pretty sure that it'd have known my biggest fear and simply transformed into how I am now. Based on the 1986 novel by Stephen King, this film will forever join John Carpenter's The Thing on a list of titles that will sound like you're providing zero information to non-film fans that have just asked “What did you watch last night?” Or at least it would if it didn't seem like this film was already more popular than sliced bread, the Minions, and the concept of sending 'dick-pics'. When the first trailer for It went online it broke all records for the amount of views that it had, and, if how full the screening that I was in is anything to go by, the film will likely do very well at the box office. Although if the screening I was in is anything to go by then I'd like to ask the marketers to in future stop making their films seem so appealing to stupid fucking cock-munchers that can't sit the fuck still or shut the fuck up for a couple of hours.

I Felt Two Emotions... Silence And Rage

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Watching The Hitman's Bodyguard was like watching a remake of Midnight Run but if it was from the writer of Mr Bean's fucking Holiday. Beat for beat this film followed the DeNiro/Grodin classic but if all the jokes and charm of the original had been replaced by somebody that had only heard of the concept of 'wit' after having had a child explain it to them through the expressive art of dance. Ryan Reynolds is a bodyguard; Samuel L Jackson a hitman. The former must escort the latter from prison to court as the two avoid ambushes from other interested parties and bicker their way from A to B. Hilarity ensues.. is presumably what the writer wrote into the script with every intention of eventually going back and adding that hilarity.. before something got in the way and prevented them. I'm assuming death. Or at the very least I hope it was death because if they see the film that's finally hit the screen then they will likely end up dying of fucking shame regardless.

She's Such A Doll

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At the beginning of Annabelle: Creation we see a doll maker at work in his house as he sets about making his creepy fucking toys. Although I'll tell you what.. he lives in quite a big house. I mean, how much is he charging for these fucking dolls and who the fuck is buying them? They're genuinely horrible. Maybe parents might buy them as presents for their children as a way of letting their children know how much they secretly hate them, but still. I can only therefore presume that this doll-making business is a front and that he's actually stuffing their heads with drugs. Within the prologue of the film, we see his family is involved in a car accident in which somebody is run over and killed. Throughout the rest of the film, the whole thing is referred to as a 'car accident' too, however, I'm pretty sure that it must have been an intentional hit from a rival drugs gang. Anyway.. for some reason, this means one of his dolls is now haunted by a demon, or something. As a result, they lock it in a cupboard that has pages from the Bible stapled all over it. This might seem like the legitimate solution to the doll problem. However they kind of look like the sort of people that would attempt to solve most of their problems by locking them in the Bible page room too.

Some Hazey Cosmic Jive

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Near the end of Valerian And The City Of A Thousand Planets, the two lead characters find out that they're going to be stuck in a shuttle with each other for two hours and with nothing to do. “Great” one of them says to the other, “Two hours with you is going to feel like an eternity”. “Imagine how I felt”, a friend said to me after the film, “I had to spend two and a quarter fucking hours with them”. To be fair the film hasn't exactly received the warmest of welcomes with critics accusing it of essentially being cinematic candy-floss, colourful to look at but ultimately lacking in any substance whatsoever. They're not wrong either. Sci-fi movies have the potential to hold a mirror up to our own society and reveal profound truths about our existence and way of life. In this film we see Cara Delevingne stick her head up a jelly-fishes arse hole in order to see the future and, in honesty, I fucking loved it. Not just the head to anus scene but every rainbow coloured piece of bullshit that the film spewed my way. If gay pride was a person then this is the film that it would vomit out at the end of a really enjoyable but ultimately forgettable night out.

Stuck And Running From The Bullets

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Christopher Nolan's Dunkirk begins with a soldier frantically trying to find a spot on the beach in which he can take a dump. Or maybe, he was just ticking off things he could do from his bucket list and having a literal shit on France was one of them. And who even knew this movie would be set in France at all? You'd think there would be a clue in the title but a few years ago a friend of mine let slip that he thought Dunkirk was actually a place in Scotland. After initially making fun of him for this lapse in his general knowledge, it quickly became annoyingly apparent that Dunkirk may actually be the most Scottish sounding word I've ever heard in my entire fucking life. When the English soldiers were stuck and desperate on the beach at the start of this film I genuinely had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't going to end with Mel Gibson riding over the hill, face painted blue and screaming for fucking 'Freedom!!!”

Woody Kill Those Damn Dirty Apes?

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At the beginning of War For The Planet Of The Apes, the ape leader Caesar suffers a devastating blow which sparks him off on a mission of revenge, putting his very soul at risk. At a pivotal moment in this movie, some dumb motherfucking bitch that was sat near to me got her stupid twatting phone out, lighting the cinema up and distracting me from an otherwise emotional scene. My soul has already been well and truly lost and so I wish nothing but the most carnivorous of parasites to latch itself onto that simplistic bint's brain and to chew its way through to her fucking spinal cord. Caesar, however, is more thoughtful than me. The focus of his revenge is the leader of a cult-like band of military fuck-wits that are being led by the Kurtz-a-like Woody Harrelson, who looks like how a fat Marlon Brando might have done had he posed in front of a complimentary circus mirror. Along for the ride are a couple of Caesar's ape-friends who act as his confidants and voices-of-reason. My friends, however, are as bad as me... so fuck that ignorant fucking pig and her stupid fucking phone. I hope she was getting bad news at the fucking time.

Boning Up: Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes

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What's the story?

In the previous film it seems that not only did we humans create a race of super-chimps, but the very virus that made them smarter also made us pretty fucking dead. Having sneezed our way into an early grave, what's left of humanity is surviving under the leadership of Gary Oldman. Meanwhile Caesar and his band of merry monkeys are living in peace in the forest until a chance encounter with the humans leads to gun-fire and tension between the two species. Also for the sake of variety, one of Caesar's closest friends is a crazy, human-hating fuck-nugget named Koba. Bearing in mind that the franchise is called Planet Of The Apes and not Planet Of The Humans And Apes Who Love Each Other Dearly... I'm sure you can figure out that it's all going to kick off.

Boning Up: Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes

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What's the story?

James Franco plays a scientist that accidentally creates a drug that gives monkeys a super-smartness that will ultimately take over the world. The only unbelievable bit of that sentence is that James Franco plays a scientist. After being kicked out of his job because an escaped monkey was gunned down during one of his meetings he decides to continue his experiments at home with a baby chimp that he has essentially stolen from work. Over the years this chimp, Caesar, does indeed become super-smart and essentially sets about doing the same thing to every other monkey in the area. He has his reasons though, so let's not judge him too harshly.. Mostly that humans are pricks. Franco is a good human but the rest of us really do seem to be absolute cock-munchers so fuck us.. fuck us all to Hell! If you want to seem super-smart too then you can tell people that Caesar's revolution here heavily draws on elements of the original Conquest Of The Planet Of The Apes. And when I say you'll look super-smart too, I really mean you'll look like a complete fucking nerd.

Boning Up: Planet Of The Apes (2001)

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What's the story?

Mark Wahlberg plays a spaceman that flies his mini-rocket into some swirly space-bullshit in order to rescue his pet monkey. He crash lands on a planet that's ruled by apes and yet literally nothing interesting happens for two whole fucking hours. The apes turn him into a slave.. he decides he doesn't like being a slave and so escapes to find his spaceman friends who he thinks have come to rescue him. Based on his complete lack of personality, I'm not sure why they'd bother. He is given help in his journey by Helena Bonham Carter who has clearly undergone hours of monkey make-up in order to look exactly like Helena Bonham Carter with a tail. Eventually Wahlberg decides to go home. We all wish we'd not stayed in our own homes to watch this piece of crap on DVD. As he arrives back on Earth it turns out that his home planet is now run by monkeys too. He thinks, “What the fuck”... as do we.

Boning Up: Battle For The Planet Of The Apes

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Spoilers throughout

What's the story?

After leading his revolution in the previous film, Caesar is now living a happy life as king of his monkey village. General Aldo, a Gorilla, however, is being as typically right-wing and dumb as every other military type in this franchise ever has. He particularly dislikes the humans that are living in peace within the village because it's impossible to make these films without making racism a part of the subtext. Caesar discovers that recordings were made of his parents and decides to hunt them down in an underground network where some scabby looking humans are hiding out. Because looking for amateur films of your parents is always a good idea... Anyway, the scabby humans spot Caesar and decide that now is time to fight back against the apes because we humans are also right-wing fuckheads that are incapable of learning from our mistakes.

Boning Up: Conquest Of The Planet Of The Apes

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What's the story?

Since Cornelius and Zira had the living shit shot out of them in the previous film, their super-smart monkey baby has been raised by a kindly circus owner. Because circus owners are renowned for their 'pure intentions' and so that monkey definitely won't have been whored out for shiny pennies, rubles, and whatever else carnies trade in. In the meantime, it seems that Cornelius's prophecy regarding the rise of the apes has begun to take place, with our chimps becoming slightly more human-like. Well, either that or this movie is simply set in the primordial depths of modern day Liverpool. As Cornelius's predicted, our dogs and cats have all been killed by a virus and we've started to use the slightly smarter monkeys as our slaves. I know it might sound cruel but as you all know we'd all secretly give our right nuts for a monkey butler if we could get away with it! Anyway, the super-smart monkey baby has grown up, visits the city, then sees how we treat his kind. Not being too keen on abuse, he shouts out words to the effect of “fuck this shit”, takes on the name Caesar, and then rallies his kind into a particularly hairy rebellion.

Boning Up: Escape From The Planet Of The Apes

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Spoilers throughout. 

What's the story?

The previous film ended with the apes gunning down a load of skinless freaks and Charlton Heston going all 'fuck-this' and nuking the Earth. So how the fuck do you follow that? Well, apparently as this was happening, three other apes; Zira, Cornelius, and Monkey McRed-Shirt, re-built themselves a spaceship that sent them back in time to the 1970's. So now you have a reversal of story in which the apes are the strangers in our world as our politicians try to figure out what to do with them. Although, the scientists investigating them don't seem to take too many precautions, for instance, willingly locking themselves in cages with the apes to perform experiments without any knowledge of how safe our new visitors might be. I guess these scientists have a similar attitude to health and safety as Steve Irwin did after uttering the phrase “Watch me jab this Stingray in the tits, fellas” Anyway, once this is complete, the apes are then paraded around as celebrities, with us then becoming suspicious that their existence is a risk to the future of humanity. For a film that starts off as a fish-out-of-water comedy, I have to say that I was somewhat surprised when we ultimately decide to shoot the living fuck out of the apes in an ending that was like The Wild Bunch crossed with Dunstan Checks In.

Boning Up: Beneath The Planet Of The Apes

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Spoilers All The Way Through

What's the story?

Another astronaut lands on the planet after following in the path of Charlton Heston's character. In keeping with this he essentially does everything we saw Heston do in the first movie. But shitter. Because he's not Charlton Heston. Meanwhile the apes decide to march into the Forbidden Zone to kill whatever shit happens to be living there. I'm not sure why. I guess there's no point giving a monkey a gun if you're not then going to make him shoot something. Predictably, what is living there is a small coven of psychic humans that worship a nuclear bomb. So obvious! Anyway, shit goes down.. Heston sets the nuke and the film ends with everybody and everything on the planet dead. I literally have no fucking clue where they're going to go with the sequel.

Boning Up: Planet Of The Apes

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(Spoilers Everywhere!)

What's the story?

Charlton Heston plays an astronaut that crash lands on a mysterious planet that's ruled by what seems like a population of talking monkeys. At no point does anybody try to rule out the possibility of it simply being a modern day Manchester. The apes give Heston a load of shit. Heston gets away from the apes. Just as he's about to ride into the sunset he accidental stumbles across the Statue of Liberty and realises that he's on Earth and humans have fucked the planet up with bombs. He's probably also pretty gutted that he can't even actually visit the Statue of Liberty which is a shame considering he's accidentally gone all the way to visiting it.

With Another Reboot Comes Great Responsibility

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It seems that these days Spider-Man reboots are a bit like people called Dave.. there's just so fucking many of them. After Sam Raimi's third Spider-Man threw so much shit at the wall that it ended up choking to death on the fumes of its own ineptitude, we got The Amazing Spider-Man. Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker was okay, with the biggest problem being that he was playing a high schooler that looked old enough to be a Junior Manager at a struggling PR company. You could almost hear him saying, “Lose the 'The' in The Spider-Man; it's cleaner”. However the biggest problem of that rebooted series was that it seemed like it had almost no understanding of the franchise itself. Christopher Nolan's Batman movies worked so well because he made a film that was completely in tone with its title character. However The Amazing Spider-Man failed because rather than looking at Batman Begins and making a film that finally fit their character, they instead looked at Batman Begins and simply tried to make Batman fucking Begins.

Why We Need Baby Driver Now

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On the 14^th Of June 2017 the UK received news of the Grenfell Tower disaster. After complaining and complaining about the state of their building and its lack of safety procedures, a tower block in one of the richest parts of the country went up in flames and killed so many of its working class occupants that the final death toll is still not expected to be known until 2018. In the ensuing shit-storm of finger-pointing and twat-blaming it was revealed that in 2016 the building had been given an £8.7 million refurbishment which focused less on making it liveable as it did on making it more visually tolerable for the surrounding richer people. God forbid the value of their often-unoccupied homes be affected by the sight of a living poor person. Since then it has subsequently turned out that this rejuvenation may in fact have been partly to blame for the way in which the fire spread so quickly, which makes me genuinely suspicious that this was a actually a secret Government plan to both kill off the poor whilst preparing the land ready to have more mansions built up for the hideously rich. I'm honestly waiting for the news that the survivors have since been re-homed in the Summer Isles, inside a giant fucking Wicker Man. And anybody that claims they can't picture Theresa May dancing around it next to a befrocked Christopher Lee is also a fucking liar.

I Spy With My Little Wife

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After Inglorious Basterds and Fury, Allied is another film in which Brad Pitt has some sort of issue with the Nazis. Here he must go into enemy territory and masquerade as Marion Cotillard's husband, which must be nice for him. It's good to know that the war wasn't all doom and gloom. They parade themselves as a couple in front of Nazi soldiers with the intent of killing one specific one when the time is right. Their cover must therefore be absolutely convincing as married partners, so, good for them for portraying their relationship as being one with literally fuck all chemistry. I guess they are pretending to be a newly married couple and I hear that marriage gets a bit tedious after a while. Therefore the sparks that are flying between them are flying about as effectively as a budgie chained to a bowling ball and after suffering a broken fucking wing. Eventually shit goes down, bullets start flying, and the two become a Mr and Mrs Smith for the Churchill generation... so, Mr and Mrs Schmidt, I guess.

Roger Moore... I Miss Him Already

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I have no clue when you'll be reading this, but for me as I write, it is the 23^rd Of May 2017. Sadly this is the day that Sir Roger Moore departed our mortal world for the giant Martini bar in the sky and the day that we lost our first real James Bond. Already I've had several friends message me in condolence; my Mum phoned me up to make sure I was okay, and a work colleague gave me a hug from behind as I was sat at my desk. Although during this hug the work colleague also started to fondle my nipples so there's a good chance that it was more of an opportunistic attempt at sexual harassment than an effort to actually comfort me. If only I'd had three nipples then arguably it would have been a fitting tribute.

Tom Cruise: The Cursed Avenger

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So it seems like The Mummy is basically just a Tom Cruise vanity project in which he runs about looking cool with a couple of women obsessing over him as though both oblivious to his weird middletooth... Google it if you don't know what I mean by that. The film begins in which we see a large drill performing an act that can only be described as boring and in many ways that should have prepared us for the rest of the film. This scene is set in England which we can tell for two reasons. The first is the big text on screen saying “England”, the second is that it takes approximately eight seconds before we hear somebody say “Bloody hell!”. Along its path the drill accidentally finds a tomb of dead crusaders which leads Russell Crowe to waddle in and begin telling us about the history of an Egyptian Mummy... for some reason. He plays Dr Jykle and Mr Hyde because everything has to be a shared universe now... more on that in a bit. However he's essentially just an overweight guy with a bad cockney accent. If anybody sees Ray Winstone heading towards Russell Crowe after he's seen this film and with a sock in his hand then make sure to get out of his fucking way.

A DC Film That's Wonderful

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In 1913 the Suffragette Emily Davison threw herself in front of the King's horse and lost her life in the name of equal rights. From then on, all was right with the world and the two genders have been treated as absolute equals ever since. Well.. you know.. other than the slight difference in pay that women face. And the glass ceiling. Oh, and the shockingly high levels of sexual assault, sexual harassment, and sexual objectification that they suffer. By all means they do have the vote now, but if somebody dares to do an all-female reboot of Ghostbusters then that's where we men-folk draw the fucking line, it seems! As such, Wonder Woman is a revelation. It's the first big-studio Superhero movie to have a female lead in over twelve years. Of course there was Catwoman and Elektra before this, however like that time I was asked to do the dishes and so smashed them up the fucking walls to ensure I'd never be asked again, those two films were beyond shite. It's also the first ever superhero film to be directed by what Moonraker's Bond would refer to with surprise as 'a woman'. Oh, and it's also the largest budget film to be entrusted to the gender that we men have constantly referred to as, 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'love', and under very special circumstances, “sugar tits”.

Jumping The Zombie Shark

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The first thing that the latest Pirates Of The Caribbean film gets wrong is its presumption that anybody gives one solitary fuck about any one of its characters. You could quite literally kick any one of these people in the bollocks until your feet hurt and I still wouldn't give two shits about them. Near the end of the film a character experiences what I shall refer to as 'an emotional moment'. Except, for the moment to work it requires you to both care about the people involved and have bought into the plot contrivance that was revealed only a mere few minutes earlier. Sadly this didn't work because of the film's second mistake.. that it thinks it has any characters in it whatsoever. Because it doesn't. Because to call the walking lumps of boned-flesh in this story 'characters' is an exaggeration on par with me claiming that my cock is the size of the fucking moon. I mean, it's big, but it's not quite the size of the moon. Swipe right on me for further details.

Better To Reign In Hell

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There are lots of reasons that people didn't like Prometheus, however I'd cite the big smile on the zoologist's face as he attempts to stroke the fucking space-cobra as being one of the main ones. Rule number one of going into space.. don't stroke the fucking space-cobra! But before we judge that movie too harshly, perhaps we should have a quick look at the franchise as a whole. Alien is obviously a masterpiece; Aliens is one of the greatest sequels of all time; Alien 3 is like seeing a facehugger accidentally latch on to the anus of the franchise; and Alien: Resurrection is what happens when that misplaced Chestburster explodes. It should go without saying too that I don't acknowledge Alien Vs. Predator or it's even shittier sequel having agreed with its tagline of “Whoever wins, we lose”. So essentially I'd guess most peoples love of this series is actually down to just the good-will of the first two movies alone, with one of the franchise's biggest problems being its struggle to survive without Sigourney Weaver. I mean, just look at the fourth movie which jumped through so many fucking hoops to try and include her despite the fact that her character had died in the previous movie. If Prometheus should be credited for one thing it's that it figured out a way of continuing the franchise without her. If it can be criticised, it's that it forgot to put the fucking alien in it too.

One Of The Good Ones

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I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that we all look forward to finding ourselves with a good old Woody. Allen is obviously a controversial figure, with some people having written him off as nothing more than an over-privileged kiddie-fiddler whose very career is an insult to his alleged victim. Others cite the intensive investigation and lack of conclusive evidence as proof that he should be treated as both an innocent man and the film-making and comedic genius that he quite clearly is. I developed my love of Woody Allen last year in which a casual enjoyment of Annie Hall turned into a full blown 'crack-head in a door way level' of obsession with his career. I don't want to accuse a victim of abuse of being a liar, but nor would I like to think of an innocent man as being a sly and unrepentant child-fucker. The fact of the matter is however that none of us know the truth and most likely never will. I therefore exist in a Schroedinger's Box of Allen's alleged nonciness. I can enjoy his movies, and if I were to ever meet him then I'd be over-joyed to ask him a million questions about his work. But if he started a childminding service and I needed somebody to look after my kid.. well, I probably would still use him in order to meet him. But I'd be suspicious.

Marvel Shows Off Its Ego

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Guardians Of The Galaxy Volume 2 has quite probably the greatest opening ten minutes of any Marvel movie yet. Beginning on Earth in a flashback sequence set in the 1980's, we see a young Kurt Russell enjoying a day out with who we know to be the mother of Chris Pratt's Peter Quill. "Hang on!", I hear you say, "As cool as Kurt Russell is, I'm pretty sure that even he has aged slightly over the last thirty years!" Well, as was the case with Downey Jr. in Civil War, Marvel seem to have access to the most cutting edge technology and have de-aged him to the point of absolute believability. I can only assume that this technology is known as "a fucking time-machine" because, trust me, it's fucking crazy how good it is. I'm one of those people who spent their teenage years shunting nights out looking for pubs that might serve my underage self in favour of nights in watching old John Carpenter movies. My younger self was what you might call 'a cool motherfucker'. As a result, the image of a younger Kurt Russell is something that I've spent so many hours staring at that it's pretty much burnt onto my fucking retina, with what we see here matching it perfectly.

A Turd On The Waves

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Pirates Of The Caribbean: The Curse Of The Black Pearl, was released in 2003 and was a direct result of two great rides. The first was of course the Pirates Of The Caribbean ride at Disney of which the film is based, and the second was that special romance-ride that Mr and Mrs Depp once had with each other that led to the conception of little baby Johnny. What was originally going to be an average movie about the ongoing battle between some floating sea scum and a load of posh, land-based twats instantly became a million times more fun thanks to Depp's now-iconic performance as Captain Jack Sparrow. Things took a turn when it came to the sequels however, as it was decided to replace all the fun of the first movie with a convoluted plot, elongated running length, and a focus on some of the most boring characters of all time. Show me Elizabeth Swan and Will Turner's dull romance and I'll show you two rotting manakins that have more passion in their moth-infested heads. The second film was obviously crap, but it admittedly had just enough watchable moments to keep me mildly numb to the world. The third film however has to be one of the biggest pieces of shit I've ever seen in my life. By the time of the credits of that one, not only had I not had any fun but I was actively looking for a rusty fucking nail to plunge into my eye socket in order to help scrape out the memories.

Dom And Dumber

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In many ways, I think you could argue that the Fast And Furious series is one of the most important franchises in cinema right now. Firstly it presents us with a diverse cast without in anyway making a big deal of it. The team consists of characters from a variety of ethnic backgrounds, with both genders being shown to be as strong as the other. Well, mentally anyway. Because let's not forget that The Rock is in the movie and I'm pretty sure that the only woman that's of equal strength to him is the fucking She-Hulk. Which isn't a slight against women of course, being that the only way that most men could even slow him down would be if they drove at him in a tank after making peace with the fact that they're about to die in a tank crash. And of course when I say the female members of the group are all of equal mental strength to the men, that's not really saying too much. At the end of the day, this is a group that's led by Vin Diesel who I'm pretty convinced is actually a rogue potato that's made a deal with the Pinocchio's fucking Blue Fairy.

It's Snoring Time

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Who remembers Power Rangers from back in the day? It was basically a playground code word for 'lets have a fight'! You'd find somebody that you didn't really like, invite them for a game of Power Rangers, and then spend the next thirty minutes kicking the shit out of them. I was always White Ranger because I was male and, most importantly, I was white. If anything was ever squarely designed to wean kids onto the BNP it must have been fucking Power Rangers which put labels onto its characters and then colour co-ordinated the shit out of them. Pink Ranger was the girl, Black Ranger was a black guy, and Yellow Ranger was.. well, I'm sure you can guess. Apparently the chap that played the original Blue Ranger ultimately felt that he had to leave the show because of his sexuality and the rampant homophobia that was prevalent behind the scenes. In which case, I'm honestly fucking surprised that he didn't morph into the fucking Rainbow Ranger with his assigned Zord being a 70ft mechanical recreation of Freddie Mercury on all fours.

Under The Shell

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Like most people I was completely disgusted when I saw Scarlett Johansson playing the character of Major in this live-action remake of Ghost In The Shell. Of course most people were annoyed because they saw her casting as being yet another example of Hollywood 'white-washing' however what pissed me off was that in the original anime you saw Major's tits. Arguably the outrage over race is probably somewhat more justified than my simple desire to see a famous lady's chest-melons however I'd argue that both complaints contain some validity. Sure I would quite literally kill a man to be allowed within the vicinity of Johansson, who is quite probably the number one person on my list of people I'm allowed to have sex with without my partner getting mad. This is despite both my awareness that this list of celebrities wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire, and also the fact that I don't have a current partner anyway. However the lack of titties is in fact indicative of a greater issue with the film which I will now attempt to use to justify my own pervertedness.

Bashing The Monkey

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With the exception of that time that I was working in a pub during some bloke's Stag night and I thought we'd just been raided by the police, I can honestly say that I have never seen a stripper in my life. However I imagine that they probably share a slight similarity with monster movies, in that 90% of what they do is a tease before revealing everything for the final 10%. So with a monster movie, you get a shot of a foot, then a silhouette, and then maybe a close up of an eye. Finally, and at the point that a stripper would be popping out her titty-boom-booms, you'll get the full body shot of the creature before it's swiftly destroyed with an A-bomb. Kong: Skull Island however spunks its wad up the wall before the opening title has even come up as during its first five minutes we essentially see Kong in all of his glory. In many ways, this is one of the more brilliant aspects of the movie because we're now left wondering where is left to go? If a stripper walks into a pub by opening the door with her already exposed peachy wah-wah's then what the hell is her show actually going to be? Well, in the case of Skull Island, what follows is an all-out orgy of weird creatures, adventure, and action. If a stripper were to follow the logic of this movie then I can only imagine that she'd leave the pub in a police van having turned the venue into a scene from fucking Caligula.