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.

No Country For Old Man Logan

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In the way that the media presents us with an unrealistic expectation of beauty, it also, to a slightly lesser extent, presents us with an unrealistic expectation of coolness. I mean, we all agree that James Bond is cool, right? But apply his lifestyle to reality and imagine that dopey fucker surviving more than a year. If his hard-drinking hasn't left his liver on the verge of packing in then at the very least his years of sexually exploiting a never ending conveyor belt of vulnerable simpletons would surely leave him with a horrendously crippling case of knob-rot?! Well it seems to be in this later and slightly more realistic world that Logan takes place. Having spent his cinematic career watching everybody he ever loved end up with a bad case of being completely fucking dead whilst remaining a total bad-ass himself, Wolverine has finally hit rock bottom. He's a shadow of what we've seen in the past and now lives the kind of life that Mel Gibson might in an alternate world in which Hollywood failed to find him. He's got a shitty job, his anger issues and mental anguish have isolated him from society, and his alcoholism could only be worse if before taking a shot he replaced the sprinkle of salt on the back of his hand with the ashes of George fucking Best.

Trainspotting Is My Favourite Film.. Now for T2.

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Trainspotting is without a doubt my favourite film of all time and so the last thing I needed was a shite sequel to it. As I saw something that I held so close to me thrown all over the cinema screen like Spud's post-piss up shit flung from his bed covers, I can only imagine the disappointment I'd feel. I can imagine the new film starting and as its crapness dawned on me, getting that sinking feeling in my stomach that dragged me down through the cinema floor as Lou Reed played softly through my mind. I might not have been the appropriate age to have seen the first movie during its original decade-defining release, but for about the last twelve years, there's only been one film that I turn to in times of need. Whether shit is going well or shit is going wrong, I don't just sit at home on the couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows. When depressed about my own failure to choose a family, a career, a starter home.. when I lie there wondering who the fuck I am on a Sunday morning, then I know it's time to watch the film. I choose Renton's destructive connection to his friends, Begbie's impotent rage, Sickboys unsuccessful schemes, and contrary to Vin Diesel's appearance as a giant human potato, I choose cinemas most iconic Spud.

I Saw John Carpenter Live!

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As John Carpenter and his band launched into their live rendition of the theme from his ghostly masterpiece The Fog, some genius thought it'd be a good idea to turn on the smoke machine. And they were right. It was fucking genius. Seeing Carpenter play that piece of music with footage from the film projected onto a large screen behind him, while mist slowly descended over the room, was one of the many highlights of the Liverpool gig that I saw him at on the 28^th of October. I can't say that any ghost-pirates appeared from the fog this time, however it's been so long since I last ate any fruit that it wouldn't surprise me if I had fucking scurvy at this point. Getting into the gig had proven to be more of a ball-ache than I'd imagined thanks to Google-maps providing the wrong location, one Taxi-driver refusing to take us because “he'd be fucked by the Hackneys”, and then finding ourselves stuck outside the most badly organised venue that I've ever been to. People with paper tickets were allowed straight in whereas those with E-tickets had to stand outside until twenty-minutes past the gig's original start time for some reason. To quote a fellow E-ticket queuer; “it's like we're the working class and this venue thinks it's the fucking Titanic”.

Robin Williams Was Misrepresented By The Masses

When Robin Williams died there was a genuine outpouring of love and mourning for a man that seemed to be genuinely close to most peoples hearts. For me, I'd say the key to this though is that most people are idiots. They saw his shit films when they were younger and yet to develop a true appreciation of cinema. Bear with me with this... I'm not a prick- I'm going somewhere! Most people aren't interested in the French New Wave or the history of German expressionism. I've tried to watch films several times with my Mum since I became obsessed with the medium and every time was a complete failure. She made me turn off Taxi Driver because it was old, Superman Returns because she remembered there were dishes to wash, and Memento because to quote her “What the fuck is going on”. I understand the problem though and it's simply that most people have more of a life than I do. Films for the masses are just a mixture of light and colours that can be stared at until we're all a little closer to death. In that respect, I suppose there's no way that Flubber can't be said to have done its job. It wasn't funny, well made, or in any way tolerable, but there's no denying that it had a duration.