This Film Could Reshape Your World View

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

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What A Massive Cult

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When it comes to the dating game, I think it's always best to go for somebody that's good looking. You can fake a nice personality but, conveniently, looks are only ever skin deep. The hottie will stab you in the heart too, but after however many years it takes to get over them.. at least you'll always have the wank fodder to remember them by. Hereditary director Ari Aster's latest film Midsommar might seem like it's going to be a complete rip-off of The Wicker Man which might be because in many ways that's exactly what the fuck it is. In fact, the only thing that it didn't have was Christopher Lee dressed up like a mad aunty at a party as she dances about in an attempt to hide the menopause. However, if there's one thing that does separate this from that 1973 cult classic it's that its director is calling it a break-up movie. Of course, it still has horror elements to it because what break-up isn't completely fucking horrific? I tried to break-up with somebody once and the night genuinely ended up with us in hospital after she'd cracked her head on the corner of a table after forcing herself pass out. That was also the night that I decided that personalities can't be trusted and to only go for hotties. I've been single since. If The Wicker Man is to go by though it seems that the average cultist is even more hardcore and jaded than I am. We both prefer people to be hot but in their case, it's because they've locked them inside a big wooden structure and set them the fuck on fire.

 
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Death Has Returned To This Little Town

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I love the director John Carpenter as much as little fat kids love to eat at McDonald's and as much as McDonald's loves to get rich off their slow descent into a life of diabetes. His original 1978 Halloween was essentially the very first slasher film if you were to ignore 1974's Black Christmas and his scores cause me to feel an emotion that my fellow humans have assured me is called happiness. When it was announced that another Halloween film was being made, I couldn't really have given less of shit. All of the sequels had been pretty fucking bad up until that point and I would rather stick my head in the fucking oven than sit through Rob Zombie's pointless fucking remakes. However, when it was then announced that it'd be from the director of Pineapple Express and written by the comedy actor Danny McBride, I became a little curious. Kind of like when you go to a show in Amsterdam and you see all of the props that a performer is about to insert into themselves. I was confused as to what they might be aiming to achieve and I was scared that I wouldn't like whatever might eventually hit the big screen in front of me. But I was also kind of intrigued and a little excited to see what might happen anyway.

Clucking Hell

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When I was about eight years old I saw the Grim Reaper standing at the end of my bed as I was trying to sleep. I tried to convince myself that it was just the shadow from my dressing gown hanging off the back of my bedroom door, but as I lay frozen with fear I could see his arms moving back and forth, beckoning me. Obviously I screamed the fucking house down and as soon as there was a convenient ad break in her show, my Mum ran up the stairs to see what was the matter. This happened every night for the next few nights until my Mum eventually decided to solve the problem forever. Clearly her son was having some sort of nervous breakdown and clearly I was in need of some sort of therapist to help with the existential dread that I was so clearly facing. Anyway I was given a night light, told that the Grim Reaper was more interested in my Nan than he was me, and informed that I should stop acting like such a fucking pussy. I can't say I haven't seen death since because I'm pushing thirty now and so I see it every time I walk past a fucking mirror. But I still remember how frightened I was as I lay there not knowing what the shadowy figure wanted with me. The irony being that having discovered quite how much of a pain in the arse life can be, there are nights now in which I wake up and find myself annoyed not to find the hooded prick waiting for me.