Bad Habits Die Hard

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Set in 1952, The Nun begins in Vatican City with the resident priests having received some terrifying news. Although.. I went to Vatican City last year for a holiday and I can tell you that the only terrifying thing about that place is how much the bastards will charge you to let you in. Rather than being an upcoming police investigation into centuries of child abuse however, the priests are actually worried about a Romanian nun that has committed suicide. Suspecting that something sinister might be at play, they decide to recruit a humourless Bruce Campbell look-a-like to go to her monastery and discover the cause of her actions. I guess they assume that it's more likely that she was attempting to escape a demon than this simply being what happens when you ban people from fapping. In this particular case they also happen to be right with The Nun being the latest instalment in the shared universe of The Conjuring movies. If you liked The Sound Of Music but wondered if there was a film about nuns that you could watch that would be half as long but twice as fucking boring then this is the one for you!

Don't Look Back In Anger

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From the title, The First Purge, you could be forgiven for assuming that this movie might be a gritty drama about a young girl that discovers the joys of ramming her fingers down the back of her throat. But in actual fact it is of course the fourth instalment of The Purge series which began as a silly dystopian horror movie but at this point feels only a few weeks away from becoming a genuine national holiday. Within the world of the film, Purge Night is the one night every year in which all crime becomes legal and the American public decide to all go out on a killing spree. So kind of like America now but where the kids don't have to specifically be in school if they want to be shot at. Interestingly, the series has only ever really focused on the night being used for murder which is strange because it's not that killing people is tolerated for that one night but that literally every crime is. I know it makes for a more dramatic movie if everybody wants to murder each other but I honestly think that if Purge Night happened where I live then everybody would just start building a conservatory without planning permission, fly-tipping, and burning unwanted leaves in their stupid fucking gardens. 

Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

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This is the first film in a new series of non-Harry Potter Harry Potter films and, to cut to the chase.. it's fucking brilliant. Do you know what a Niffler is? Well it's basically a creature from the magical world that likes to steal gold which looks like the bastard offspring of a mole that was gang-raped by pack of rowdy mallards. In many ways, that little bastard sums Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them up in that he's charming, full of energy, and when you shake him upside down he begins shitting out gold. In the way that he runs about causing trouble and trying to steal as much money for himself as he can get his stupid little hands on, he's also a magical creature for our new Trump-Era. In fact... you have to wonder if the makers of this film could predict what the polls couldn't and somehow knew that we'd now be living in a world in which the American President would be that gassy haired fuck. I mean, this film features winged snakes, invisible monkeys, and a giant, horny, horned rhino-thing.. but if you wanted to know where to find the most dangerous of creatures then it apparently looks like an Umpa Lumpa crossed with a down-syndrome Guinea Pig and it's soon to be living part-time in the fucking White House.

Fathers And Justice

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The Empire Strikes Back continues the story of Luke, Leia, and Han as their importance in the universe continues to grow and their incestuous love triangle reaches its fever pitch. Luke begins his training with Yoda, an alien that both looks and sounds exactly like the disabled love-child of both Kermit and Miss Piggy, whilst everybody else just tries to avoid the massive shiny helmet of Darth Vader. Meanwhile, Vader himself is attempting to track down the young Skywalker with all the determination of a knob that's dressed up as Batman, whilst hanging a 'Fathers For Justice' sign off Buckingham Palace. For most people, this is the best film in the Star Wars franchise and for others it's simply the best film ever made. On the flip side however, some people even consider this film a further stain on the reputation of cinema after the dumbing down of movies began in the mid-70's with its predecessor and Jaws. I won't really be giving that train of thought much time here though on the grounds that those people are simply pretentious, boring twats.

Dreams Are A Cancer For The Soul

If there's something that really bugs me about films it's that they can occasionally leave a slightly dim audience with an unrealistic expectation of life. Romantic films are the worst for this because they act as a kind of propaganda for the mush-brained fantasist. Particularly thick people might watch something like The Notebook and from that point on, feel disappointment that their love life isn't quite so extreme or perfect. Those kinds of films generally depict women as pathetically needy and the men as obsessive stalkers but throw in a bit of soft focus or dreamy music and suddenly these sinister characters become people to aspire to. Disney is also particularly bad at this because they constantly brainwash kids into believing that everything happens for a reason and that there's always a happy ending. Perhaps I wouldn't be as bitter and hate-filled as I am if I'd been prepared for the shiteness of life at a younger age. Television will always make up for at least one inevitably absent parent and when our minds are at their mushiest, Uncle Walt promises us that everything will work out for the best. Occasionally there actually is a reason as to why bad things happen in real life although sadly that reason is usually that somebody else is being a massive, crusty twat.

I was therefore very surprised to see that Monsters University actually had a believable message that kids deserve to be taught. The film is Pixar's very first prequel to its brilliant Monsters Inc. and basically tells the story of how having an ambition can cause nothing but misery and disappointment. The plot this time follows Mike and Sulley as they ruin their chances of a higher education in a series of fuck ups that, for a frat movie, involves a surprising lack of drugs, alcohol and sex. The two young freaks dream of being professional 'scarers' but sadly they're both just a bit too shit at it to be able to do it properly. I know that by the time of the original film, that's exactly the job they're doing but it's at this point they realise that the organisation is corrupt and their entire working life has been based on a lie. I guess it's kind of like an ugly but talented X-Factor contestant working extra hard to become a singer despite the marketing disability of their fat, slime-drenched face. After years of trying though they finally reach the top and get an album deal only to discover that now to maintain a career they're going to have to suck so much cock that that it ruins their ability to sing. Now with their dick-bashed voicebox out of action, everything they do from this point on is auto-tuned into oblivion meaning that all their hard work was for absolutely nothing. Although that has to be the most long winded and pointless metaphor of all time, I'm sure we can all enjoy the imagery that it conjured up!

The party livened up as soon as they opened the heroin.

So anyway, the message here might be refreshingly brutal but I guess that means jack shit if the movie itself is a pile of crap-nuts. Luckily then, Monsters University is pretty enjoyable although it sadly never gets close to hitting the highs of the brilliantly entertaining first film. The movie itself starts off worryingly slowly as it introduces us to the University and works at showing us Mike's desire to make a living at Monsters Inc. Physically, the small anal-bead of snot might not be very frightening but he does seem to know all the theory of how to tap into a child's individual fears. Although these days you could probably just save time by hiding at the foot of any kids bed, whispering, “Now then, now then” and rattling your pedo-bling. It doesn't take too much studying to work out that most children have an underlying fear of being haunted by a famous, dead nonce. Thankfully though the film really pics up once we get to the halfway point where Mike and Sulley begin competing in various competitions. There's one sequence in which they must race past some poisonousness spikes that is actually hilarious. Just the smallest of pricks from one of these things causes their skin to explode in massive cancerous looking tumours so that by the end of the race everyone looks like the Elephant Man's diseased left bollock.

Little Mike couldn't wait to grow up
and start life as a butt plug.

 For me, a lot of prequels tend not to work simply because you know how they're going to end. If Mike had given up on his ambition and instead started work as something random like a shopkeeper, train driver or gay-basher, I'd have been surprised, but this obviously isn't the case as from the original film we know exactly where he ends up and how close him and Sulley become. However, there was a slight twist to this prequel's ending that I did like and which was slightly unexpected. The rest of this paragraph is obviously a slight spoiler so those of a moan-y disposition might want to skip ahead now... So it has been my misfortune of late to discover quite how useless a university degree actually is. If I wanted to use the certificate to shove up my arse as I violently fud myself off then perhaps I might not complain. However silly old me actually intended to use the thing to get a job before discovering that those fucktard employees are considerately more interested in who you know than what you can do. I therefore loved how Monsters University's conclusion suggested that getting a good job isn't down to your qualifications alone but simply getting your foot in the door and then working your way up. From what I've slowly learnt, the only thing that a degree will do is rule you out of certain jobs for being overqualified. I guess having staff that are too comfortably capable of doing the work must be quite the burden for all those businesses out there. Considering how closely Monsters University stuck to the underdog formula, this ending was very much appreciated.

 So I don't watch kids films very often but if the pre-film trailers were anything to go by then the majority of them looked fucking awful. This however was good fun with its downbeat message and undercurrents of nihilism. The pacing could have been a little smoother and the jokes didn't come as fast as I might have hoped for but it was still very enjoyable. Plus children will no doubt still love it anyway, even if that does mean bugger all considering how uncritical most of them are. Young kids in general are pretty stupid and would laugh at a cartoon remake of a snuff film so long as they still didn't really understand it. I know most parents are secretly one scream away from throwing their offspring into the canal so before you commit infanticide, I recommend you show the little brat Monsters University. Not only will it shut them up for an hour and a half but it'll also subconsciously prepare them for the horror of life. In a dying world of mundanity we're not all destined for greatness and there's really no harm in knowing that from birth.

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Birth Of A Hunter

Drinking has never been something I've been particularly fucked about. I'm not exactly tea-total but I can happily go a few months without touching alcohol. That's not to say I can't see the benefits of going out and getting a little wankered now and again. If it wasn't for that liquid brain-breaker, I wouldn't have had so much fun puking in people's homes, flipping mates over in locked portaloos or having a young girl wrongly accuse me of rape. I say wrongly because despite that pissed tart's slanderous accusations, the closest I came to sex that night was pissing up against the same bin as a mate. As far as I'm concerned we didn't maintain eye contact whilst slashing so that's not even half a notch on the bed post.



Booze for me is simply an expensive way of making shitty night clubs tolerable. For others though it's a way of life with underage kids practically frothing in their knickers at the prospect of purchasing a two litre bottle of cheap cider. Whilst they were doing that, I'd however be venting my rebellious teenage urges by wanking furiously and buying 18-rated DVD's. The very first movie I managed to buy whilst still too young was Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and it blew my sober teen mind. I loved every second of it and by the time the credits begun to roll, I was a huge fan of it's original author, Hunter S. Thompson. In fact there was one summer shortly after where I think I convinced myself I was actually him. I'd walk around in a Hawaiian shirt with large sunglasses stopping only to loudly mumble “Look, there's two women fucking a polar bear!” or “We can't stop here, this is bat country”. Sure that makes me sound like a tit, but fuck you. If emo's are allowed to wear black and cut themselves than why shouldn't I pretend to be a sixty year old junkie? That's not weird is it?

The Rum Diary therefore had a lot of expectations from me. Not only was it based on another book by Thompson but it had Depp reprising his role as the gonzo nutcase. Even more excitingly however was that it was also to be written and directed by Bruce Robinson. For anybody who was ever male, British and a student, his Withnail and I is a film held in higher regard than the bible. Sure that religious book of bollocks might have inspired a larger cult following but does it feature Richard E Grant downing lighter fluid and then manically asking, “Do we have some more?” I can't say I've read it properly but unless that scene is hidden somewhere between the homophobia and the anti-science crap, I don't think it does. Plus what drinking games could you make with the Bible that could compare to the classic one of keeping up with Withnail himself? I suppose you could down a shot every time you read a line of bullshit but at that rate you'd be unconscious before Eve munched down on her forbidden Granny Smith. Also when did Snakes stop speaking our language by the way? Either that's a plot hole or both Adam and Eve spoke Parseltongue. If there are any religious folks still here then let me know! Either way maybe you should read your own crap properly before you condemn Harry Potter for it's pagan propaganda.

For some reason, The Rum Diary took forever to arrive on our cinema screens which just built up the anticipation for it. When they started filming in 2009 I was a young student, unable to grow a beard and full of optimism. By the time of it's release in 2011, I was dancing between menial jobs and unemployment with my youthful optimism having been shagged into the grave by broken promises, sexual trauma and the depressing realism of life. All that change and I still can't grow a fucking beard. Luckily however I am still a fan of Hunter Thompson or at least the legacy he's left behind. I'm sure that in reality he wasn't quite as erratic as Raoul Duke or any of the other personas he presented us with but the myth of who he was still allures.


Thompson committed suicide in 2005 after spending his life causing trouble for those figures generally in politics that he considered to be bastards. The biggest of those bastards must surely of course be Nixon. In fact it was allegedly his hatred of Tricky Dick that dragged him into politics and made him so prolific as a political writer. What's endearing to know is that the venom that spewed out from Thompson's typewriter continued regardless of the circumstance. After Nixon's death and during Thompson's obituary for him, he wrote things such as, “He was a swine of a man and a jabbering dupe of a president” and “He was queer in the deepest way. His body should have been burned in a trash bin.” I guess my point here is that although the legend of who Hunter S might slightly cloud the truth, the onscreen depictions can't be too far from fact. He certainly wasn't a man afraid of saying what he thought or doing what he pleased. Kind of like Paris Hilton but with substance and relevance to humanity.

After such a long wait I finally managed to watch The Rum Diary last night and am relieved to say that I loved it. It's not as funny as Withnail and I or rapidly anarchistic as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas but I liked that. The Rum Diary has sought after it's own identity so that it can exist as it's own entity and not simply a companion piece to those two other cult classics. Where Gilliam's 1998 adaptation zips along on a cloud of drugs and schizophrenia, this film is much slower, more relaxed and thoughtful. I know this is about a man called Paul Kemp and not Raul Duke or Hunter Thompson but lets face it they're all variations of the same persona.



Despite being filmed a decade after the 70's set Fear and Loathing, The Rum Diary actually takes place in the late 50's. Casting Depp was therefore imperative not only because he'd played the man before but because he's one of the few humans who looks younger as each year goes by. I'm pretty sure that the ageless fucker was actually the inspiration for Benjamin Button. I'm also genuinely thinking of tracking Depp down and eating him like he's a fucking chicken nugget. I'm not into voodoo or any shit like that but I'm convinced that devouring the flesh of this immortal might surely slow down my own ageing process if even only slightly. Worst case scenario is he dies, I grow old and none of us have to worry about any more crappy pirate films. Everyone's a winner!



So The Rum Diary tells the story of Paul Kemp, a younger Thompson who, after becoming a failed author, accepts a journalism job on a crappy newspaper in Puerto Rico. As the paper declines, he becomes increasingly more exposed to the shitiness of the world and the pleasures of various hallucinogens. In some ways it's almost the Gonzo equivalent of Casino Royale as our rookie main character slowly develops into the cocky end product that we're used to. Thompson's persona here is surprisingly contemplative and significantly less self-assured than the maniacal Raul Duke.



Whereas Kemp wakes up with bloodshot eyes due to excess drink, Duke wakes up with a Z carved into his head due to excess drugs. By toning down the psychotic drug use, Kemp is a lot more relatable and even likeable than Duke who is great fun to watch but too insane to understand. If Duke's rampage of destruction is comparable to the Hulk, then Kemp is the more controlled Bruce Banner. There's traces of the monster in him, but for now at least he can keep it contained.



Despite the coherence of his speech and stability of his swagger however, Kemp does occasionally find himself in the middle of typical Thompson scenarios. There's cockfighting, car chases and of course an unhealthy amount of intoxication. Although Kemp leans more towards booze than an adrenalin gland, that's not to say that this film lacks any drug related belly laughs. After taking one substance Kemp witnesses an associate's tongue protrude a few feet out of his mouth sort of like a junkie Jar Jar Binks... Which I'm assuming is probably what he is now considering the decade of hate that the Gungan fuck up has received. There's also an amusing scene here in which he tries to fend off some attackers by blowing fiery booze at them before accidentally lighting up a chasing policeman's face. Easily done I guess...



Considering that this is Bruce Robinson's first film in 17 years it really shows what we've been missing out on. His script is funny, melancholic and a complement to Thompson's book which it apparently only shares two lines of dialogue with. According to interviews, Robinson was harassed out of director retirement by Depp who pestered him back behind the camera. There's a scene in this film in which the two main character's drunkenly order a steak whilst the establishment's staff refuse to serve it. It's hard not to compare this to Withnail's famous, “we want cake and tea” scene and see exactly why Depp rightly felt Robinson would be the perfect man for the job.



Although the best bits of this film might be Kemp's early Nixon rant or his experimentation with narcotics, it's the theme of the film that impresses the most. The disappointment Kemp feels as he witnesses the decline of the American dream adds an air of sadness to a character who has previously seemed too insane to feel things as human as emotions. Duke is hellbent on chaos because of the things that Kemp has witnessed and so as a sort of pseudo-prequel The Rum Diary is another success.



Also I'm aware that I earlier stated that both this and Fear and Loathing are two completely separate films and have then proceeded to compare them a lot. However like any book adaptation or remake they share enough DNA that their differences are what makes them interesting. Kind of like having two brothers with one being a priest and the other raping goats for a living. On the one had their individual achievements are the focus but you also can't help but wonder how and why they differ. I guess in that specific case it would be that one shags animals and the other shags choir boys.



So after such a long wait, fans of the Gonzo King should rejoice. The Rum Diary is an enjoyable watch for both expanding on and slightly explaining the mind of Hunter Thompson. If you've never heard the phrase, “Buy the ticket, take the ride” then this will be an easy introduction to one of America's most important pop culture figures. If there's one piece of advice that could be taken from this film, it's as Kemp sits on his partners lap whilst driving a car. As the vehicle begins to bounce and the two men seemingly start to bugger each other he spots a police car. His plan to escape the situation without arrest is a rather ironic plan for Thompson having spent his entire life being paid to be so different. He simply intends to, “Try and look normal!”

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