Just Another Film About Artificial Intelligence?

It has recently been alleged in an unofficial biography of British Prime Minister David Cameron that the dish-faced little gimp once popped his probably wart-riddled cock into the mouth of a decapitated pig. I have no idea if this story is true and I can't say that I was exactly expecting a headline that suggested our countries leader had necro-face-fucked the star of Babe, however, true or not, if you ask me, the fact that it doesn't surprise me is kind of bad enough. This thought process and story kind of reminded me of Alex Garland's latest film Ex Machina, which is a sci-fi film dealing with the creation of the worlds most advanced AI robot and that Garland claims to be set “ten minutes from now”. His point with this is that his movie might depict an extraordinary set of circumstances, however technology is moving so quickly that if it were announced that his film had come true then we'd be surprised, but not that surprised. I suppose the main difference is though that I'd be excited if they announced the creation of a robot super-race, but with Cameron I simply can't help but wonder who comes out worse in the story? The dead-eyed dirty pig or the decapitated sow with a cock in its mouth.

Let's Be Frank

Frank starts in some fucking God-awful British coastal town where the beach is made out of broken rocks and the sky is constantly threatening to piss down. Life for Jon is predictably boring with his attempts at writing songs resulting in both unproductive brain-farts and well... shit. One day when out walking, he spots a man attempting suicide which, having seen the grottiness of the area, seems like common sense to me. Being both British and human though, Jon doesn't really worry and instead watches apathetically from the side in the vain hope that he'll suddenly be struck by some musical inspiration. Also, watching this breakdown with understanding nonchalance are the chap’s bandmates who are now in need of a new keyboard player. Jon plays keyboard. He joins the band... it's as easy as that. Sadly though, the band he's joined are so musically experimental that their sound is like listening to somebody angry fuck a dustbin and everybody except the lead singer hates his ginger guts. Oh, and just because that's not already enough of a set up for a ninety minute film, the lead singer is clearly fucking mental having made the common-as-muck life choice of permanently wearing a giant Frank Sidebottom mask on his head. Yep, it's another one of them... A film about the creative process as filtered through the deranged mind of a nutcase, hidden behind a papier-mâché symbol of musical old Madchester. God, I hate all the fucking clichés!