The Treasure Of Broken Britain

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When I was a kid, there was a time I was at the local swimming pool when I spotted a single pound coin below the water. Excited, I swam down to claim my treasure only to find that the second I grabbed it the bastard somehow dissolved through my fingers. Rather than money, it seems that it was actually a tiny little turd that somebody had shat out of their swimming shorts that I'd picked up. In The Kid Who Would Be King our distinctly English hero also finds some treasure on a building site except in his case it's very much the real thing. The young boy Alex sees the sword Excalibur lodged in a block of cement and as it turns out, it's only him that can actually pull it out. If I'd have been him and knowing my luck, I'd have tried to pull it out to find that it was actually a stick that somebody had been flicking dog-shit with. In his case, he becomes Earth's saviour and must protect our broken country from the onset of demons and dragons which is a bit of an adventure for him. In my scenario, I imagine that I would have just rubbed my eyes and probably ended up fucking blind or something.

Love Is What Brought You Here

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I live in a predominately white area where I have to remind myself not to stare at a black person if I see one in the street because it's just such an uncommon sight. In fact, the area is so white that if my friends and I were to find ourselves in a horror movie then I'd almost certainly be the first to die simply because I have the most basic hint of a tan about me. However, whenever I've been to the cinema to see a film about any kind of minority then in every single case that minority has been in the audience too. This was the case with Crazy Rich Asians, Black Panther and most recently If Beale Street Could Talk in which there was a single black lady sat in the seat that I'd actually booked for myself. Every time I see this happen I'm reminded of why representation really does matter and how refreshing and needed it must be for those individuals. Still.. I did say that in this case that the lady was sat in the seat that I'd booked for myself. I know it was her fuck up but considering the film we were seeing, I have to admit that I did feel proper shitty having to tell her to go back to wherever her cinema ticket says she belongs.

Her Heart Will Go On

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Alita: Battle Angel begins with Christoph Waltz finding a robotic head in a landfill site which is lucky for him. When I was a kid the most exciting thing that I found lying around was a porno mag in the bushes and the pictures in it were so rank that I think it actually set my development back a few years. But this film is set in the future where finding robot heads is apparently not a huge deal and I presume that porn mags have been replaced with a chip in your brain and some kind of sci-fi suction device. I'm not sure what kind of sci-fi suction device that might be but I reckon a robotic ladies head that you find in the dump might be a good starting place. From here, Waltz decides to give the lady's detached robotic head a body and bring her back to life which is pretty lucky for her. Most people are perverts and so realistically I think the closest to a body that most people would attach her head to would be a fucking anvil. If anything this film should be like a cross between Pinocchio and one of those documentaries about creepy men that become too attached to their sex dolls. Anyway, it turns out that the robot that Waltz names Alita is actually a three-hundred-year-old fighting machine. So she actually looks pretty good for an older lady considering that she's the same age and level of human that Jackie Stallone is.

Getting The Dragon Horn

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How To Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World is the third and allegedly last film in the franchise and so obviously concludes with all of the dragons being rounded up and shot in the head with a fucking bolt gun. I mean.. it obviously doesn't, but hopefully any parents reading would have stopped at that point and decided not to take their idiot child to see it. If it's the final film in the trilogy then I don't need this movie to make money to ensure a sequel and I don't like seeing children in the cinema. Or anywhere for that matter. If they're not annoying me themselves then the way in which they're being badly parented by their troglodyte prick parents will no doubt be pissing me off instead. In the case of this cinema outing, it was about ten minutes into the movie when some fucking idiot turned up with about thirty kids and proceeded to shine her phone into my eyes as she mentally wrestled with the concept of seat numbers. So maybe this film is a complete masterpiece and I missed it because you very specifically have to have watched the bit at the start in which my retinas were being burnt off to fully get it. However, the message of the movie is that if you love something then you should let it go. So if you love your child and you're thinking of taking them to see this film then maybe you could just have the fucker adopted and then stay at home yourself instead?