The C Word

Right before my Granddad died of cancer he gave me some very memorable advice. We were trying to decide what I should do for a living when he remembered that I enjoy drinking tea. This reminded him about a swarm of bees that somehow manage to make tea by simply flying honey up and down a hill. Before I had chance to question this, he then informed me that perhaps I should seriously consider doing that as a career. Now unless he was suggesting that I should start a job that had the pre-requisit of me being a bee, then I haven't got a fucking clue what he was talking about. I can't say for sure but I'm going to assume that he'd had a few too many pain killers that day. Having said that, he did at one point also say he was going to stop using his morphine so that he could instead sell it to some drug dealers. I guess there's a chance that, cancer aside, he may have just been a little bit mental. 

Stick to 'Nanu-nanu', Robin.

Released in 2011, 50/50 is a comedy that centres  around the story of a young cancer victim and despite its tragic subject, actually manages to be quite funny. Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Adam, a twenty-seven year old who is enjoying a healthy lifestyle when he discovers a tumour attached to his spine. Before seeing this, I didn't even know that you could get cancer there so I'm glad I now have something else to worry about. Occasionally I'll check my balls for lumps but not very often and not without getting instantly distracted by just violently wanking. Considering that the last big comedy that dealt with illness was Patch Adams, I'm sure we're all a little apprehensive about returning to the subject. If I was ever in hospital and Robin Williams walked in dressed as a clown, I'd discharge myself immediately and plonk my head straight into an oven. If Patch Adams was attempting to find something that was less funny than dying of cancer then I suppose it can consider itself a success. Actually thinking about it, there was also Funny People, but considering that every-bodies forgotten about it and I haven't seen it, fuck it- let's just pretend it never happened.

Those aren't real bruises, lest we forget.

So regarding this story, the structure of 50/50 is interestingly very similar to that of your classic underdog movie. It's about somebody reluctantly being forced to battle against the odds with the film heading towards an inevitable and final confrontation. I obviously won't ruin the end but just because it's about an underdog, don't be under the impression that there'll definitely be a happy and feel-good conclusion. As shite as Rocky is, it's also your classic underdog film but even there Stallone's boxing, mumbler-frump was beaten by Apollo Creed. With formulaically placed emotional peaks and troughs, the narrative of  both the Rocky films and 50/50 are pretty much identical to each other. Having said that, Rocky did then go on to beat Clubber Lang's tacky bulk of bling in Rocky 3 so I guess there's always hope. Basically the point that I'm trying to make is that whether Adam lives or dies is completely dependant on whether his cancer is the tumour equivalent of either Carl Weathers or Mr T.   

 

... Simplicity incarnate.

Not that I'm saying an uncomplicated narrative is a problem by the way. Paris Hilton has made millions of dollars which, with her questionable intelligence, proves that being hugely simple sometimes has its advantages. By following a relatively straightforward tangent, the film instead focuses on Adam as a character as well as the friends and loved ones that orbit his life. It goes without saying that the performances are all great with Joseph Gordon-Levitt here continuously proving his talent and likeability. Sure he started off his career as a child actor, but since Mysterious Skin had him arse fucked and beaten by a big gay trucker, he's done everything he can to earn credibility. When not shining in knock-out indie films like Brick and Hesher, he also manages to do action movies like Looper during which he delivered the best Bruce Willis performance since Unbreakable.

After Adam receives the news of his illness, he's told that his body will go into survival mode. In actual fact, coincidentally, my body does that every time I go camping at a music festival. For me however, this means that I don't need as much food or sleep and thankfully feel no urge to shit. For Adam on the other hand, it apparently means going through shock, and a haunting sense of calm and numbness. So it's kind of like how I feel everytime I spaff. This also of course allows JGL to show off his emotional range as he convincingly proves how little fun having cancer must be. Adam spends the duration of the movie repressing his feelings and bottling them up in an attempt to stay strong. If I was him, I think I'd probably just have a full-blown breakdown by spending the film marching naked through the streets and chunnering loudly about God.

To help Adam remain positive however, there is his best friend, mother, therapist and girlfriend. His best friend is played by Seth Rogan, with their bromantic relationship being one of the film’s key highlights. Rogan himself here brilliantly shows off his range by doing the usual trick of making jokes and getting stoned. Luckily, that happens to be a trick that I find quite enjoyable, relatable and aspirational. It should also be noted though that for a change, Rogan actually has a little more depth than usual which isn't surprising considering that he's kind of reliving his real life past. 50/50 was written by Will Reiser who is not only a friend of Rogan's but actually suffered from cancer a few years ago. That's not to say this film is autobiographical however, with it instead just taking inspiration from the writers experiences. Kind of like what Nil By Mouth is to Gary Oldman and the Jew hating Borat is to Mel Gibson. Also it obviously goes without saying that Reiser thankfully survived as nobody has made a film whilst dead since Steven Seagal's fat bloated corpse last appeared on screen.

If there's been any criticism of 50/50, it's in its depiction of the female characters. From reading reviews it seems that some critics have found the writing of Adams Mum and Girlfriend slightly misogynistic. I'm not sure why, but I'd guess this is probably mostly due to how ball achingly irritating they can occasionally be. Luckily though for me at least that just wasn't the case, although I can see why people might have that view. His mother does at times appear to be a bit of a bitch and her attempts to care for Adam are at times a little too smothering. However she's clearly acting out of love and a sense of helplessness having found out that her son could be about to pop his clogs. Also, in reality, since when are parental figures not massively annoying anyway? A few years ago my Mum got drunk, starting arguing and genuinely warned me that the Queen could be planning my assassination. Having said all that, it does probably help that I'm a massive fan of Wes Anderson and so will love any film in which Anjelica Huston appears as the Mum. And that's even if she does decide to turn up whilst dressed like a randomly tranny-fied Rod Stewart.

As for Adam's girlfriend, I genuinely can't see how people don't sympathise with her. She's a woman who unwillingly stays in a relationship because she'd feel too guilty to leave it. Sure she makes mistakes but it's not like she's having a good time. As unfairly disliked girlfriends go, it's worth noting that Bryce Dallas Howard does a good job in a role that film critic Mark Kermode considered to be “thankless”. To be honest, I'm just always a little creeped out whenever I see Bryce Dallas Howard. It's nothing against her, I just don't like finding myself attracted to something that originated life in Ron Howard's balls.

Considering that there's only one character left, it would seem unfair not to mention Anna Kendrick's performance. She plays Adams warm but inexperienced therapist who kindly tries to help, despite his obvious cynicism. To be honest I'm not sure why he's so resistant towards her because I'd fucking love a trip to the psychiatrist. Getting my issues sorted professionally would certainly seem more productive than writing this shit on a weekly basis. Plus Anna Kendrick's timid vulnerability is just so endearing that I don't know who wouldn't want to spend time with her. Having said that, her teeth are so ridiculously white that they must be radioactive. As much as I'd enjoy her company, every time she smiles, my retinas start to scream as though I'm staring at the sun through a telescope. Having seen her in a few things I would say this is possibly her best performance although she was also pretty good in Up in the Air. In that I particularly enjoyed the scene in which George Clooney slagged of marriage so much that he made her cry. Batnipples aside, he can be a proper hero at times.

Hero.

I actually first saw 50/50 at the cinema where somehow, it just felt a little out of place. It's not that it's in anyway like a TV movie, but for some reason it just suits being watched on DVD whilst surrounded by home comforts. Thinking about it though, listening to some plebs nonchalantly grazing on popcorn whilst witnessing a man’s slow deterioration could also be one of the reasons. I know I've kind of banged on about the characters here but I think that's really where the joy of this film is. As great as everything else might be, the guaranteed replay value will be just so that you can spend time with those people again. It's one of those movies in which you wish you were part of the gang and everyone’s mate, kind of like Stand By Me, Superbad and Get Carter. That last example is probably just for me.

In the end, I don't know how the fuck people cope with the stress of cancer and I don't look forward to finding out. With all that in mind, I strongly suggest people instead donate the price of this movie to cancer research and just take my word that it's a good film. Considering how many people die of it, I've always been under the assumption that it's what will kill me too and I'd like you all to save me. They say that every little helps so if everybody who reads this blog gives just ten pence then who knows, by the end of the week we might be almost up to a quid. 

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A Dog's Death

Last night I watched 13 Assassins which is a 2010 Samurai movie directed by the controversial Japanese film-maker Takashi Miike. On average, it seems that Miike releases about two or three films a year which is, to put it bluntly, completely fucking mental. There was this one time that I was climbing around the bathroom, pretending to be Tarzan when I slipped and actually cracked my cock on the sink. Because of this, I then had to go and spend a few hours in hospital whilst doctors made sure that I didn't die of a bruised knob-shaft. In the time it took me to tit about and waste valuable NHS time and money, Miike would probably have completed about nine new movies. If I have any national pride, it's in our ability to dismiss a huge achievement because it dared to impress us. I don't know about Japan, but over here in Britain we have a saying that says 'nobody likes a show off'.

Despite his immense back catalogue however, and up until last night, I'd actually only seen a couple of his films. Audition was one of them and is probably my favourite Japanese horror-rom-com to feature someone desperately drinking from a bowl of genuine puke. The other was Ichi the Killer which has got to be one of the most mental films of all time. It starts with its title being spelt out in real jizz and then degrades down hill from there. From those two films alone I was kind of under the impression that Takashi Miike is a man of extremes. Apparently he's also made a few kids films too which suggests that he's either a lot more diverse than I'd released or that there's a lot of fucked up children now out there.

Set in the 1840's, 13 Assassins starts with a scene in which a lone Japanese chap commits the act of Hara-kiri. This is basically when somebody uses a dagger to tear themselves open and rip their own guts out. Apparently it's got something to do with the Samurai honour code but in reality it just looks like suicide for the hardcore. According to wikipedia, “it is usually part of a more elaborate ritual and performed in front of spectators”. With that in mind I think I know exactly what I'd like to see Piers Morgan do to improve his ratings on his next show. Despite its graphic nature, Miike shows distinctive restraint here by keeping the majority of violence off screen. I guess this instead has the effect of showing us the emotional pain of the scene rather than simply shocking us with a gratuitous shot of Shogun offal. In this case Hara-Kiri was committed as a way for the character to express his disdain towards the films main villain. Thank God then that Facebook was invented so that now all we'd have to do is de-friend the cunt and tag him as a picture of a shit.

The villainous Lord Naritsugu Matsudaira looks a bit like a cheap Chow Yun-Fat action figure and really is a massive wanker. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but when someone practices archery by committing infanticide, I think it's safe to assume they're probably a wrong'un. In another horrendous scene we're introduced to a woman who has had her family killed, her tongue removed and all of her limbs chopped off by him. Simply because of his twatish whims, he's turned her into an orphaned, meaty, draft-excluder. On top of all that, he also likes to shag the occasional woman using the same favoured position as British personality Jimmy Saville. The immoral position of course being that there's nothing ever wrong with a good hard rape. So yeah overall, Lord Naritsugu Matsudaira is really kind of a rotten Japan-apple. Thankfully though, the noble Samurai are on hand to dole out their honourable justice which apparently doesn't require a trial or evidence but will result in an on-the-spot execution. So I guess they basically have a similar legal system to that of Texas.

The story from here on in is hardly complicated, which isn't particularly a bad thing. You don't exactly need a brain to be able to follow the plot of porn and I've got no qualms with that... Here, the first half is spent recruiting assassins and the second half is the inevitable showdown. This is all fair enough although I do question some of the manipulation used to convince people to join their dangerous mission. At one point a group of Samurai are told to fight on the grounds that, “he who values his life dies a dogs death.” Most dogs are peacefully put to sleep to avoid any more suffering when they've reached a fine old age. Kurt Cobain on the other hand had a shotgun in his mouth and then blew his fucking brains out. Unless the dog was Korean and given a choice I'd definitely go for the one that doesn’t involve Courtney Love faking my suicide.

Not that killing themselves would be a problem for any of these characters by the way. They all seem so eager to die that you could be forgiven into thinking that this film was the lucid hallucinations of fame obsessed teen girl. I'd hate to disrespect the Samurai traditions but the only time that I'm that desperate for death is when I accidentally catch a glimpse of Psychic Sally Morgans shrivelled face of bullshit. I'm usually not a fan of censorship but with its constant themes of suicide and honour, my suggestion would be that maybe we shouldn't show 13 Assassins in Bridgend. That's presuming of course that there's anyone there left to watch it anyway.

I've read several reviews of this film and the majority seem to be under the impression that the first half is a little dull. I think I'm going to have a disagree slightly but that might be a fault of my own more than anything. Admittedly it's a little slow and talky but I've not seen that many Samurai movies and so this was all quite new to me. I therefore found it all quite interesting, just as a glimpse into how that culture worked. I guess being able to see how somebody else lives is one of the great things about cinema. Another example like that could be something like City of God which brilliantly depicted life in the Brazilian slums. Oh, and there's also Lord of the Rings which taught me that all New Zealanders are hairy little midgets and also a tiny bit gay.

In regards to the second half of the film, there's no doubt that the action is both exciting and well handled. For a director more renowned for flicking body juice at the screen, the gore here is also admirably held back. In fact, there's more emphasis on kineticism and choreography than splatter and spaff. Personally, I would say that there's no doubt that here, Miike has drawn significant inspiration from legendary director Akira Kurosawa. 13 Assassins has an old school and classic feel to it that's more in line with Seven Samurai than whatever sex fuelled snuff films Miike usually seems influenced by. The final showdown involves the Assassins rigging up a town with so many traps that in the end it plays out like an ancient and lethal re-enactment of the tacky 90's game-show Fun House. If there's any mistake then it would probably be the inclusion of a herd of obviously CG'd cows that charge through the town. Having said that, it's nice to see that the herd have found work since appearing in the opening scene of Mars Attacks.

Another criticism could be that overall, the characterisation does at times seem a little bland. On Team Honour, there's thirteen individuals but only a couple of them have any memorable personality. The leader is your usual angry Obi-Wan and there's also some Japanese Brundlefly that falls out of a tree and refuses to fuck off. With long hair on top of a bald head, the rest really just come across as a gang of miscellaneous Easterners attempting mimic the look of musical comedian Bill Bailey. I realise that we don't have time to delve too deeply into every-body's back story, but as things stand they're all just a little too disposable. When people die I should feel emotion but here I just found myself ticking each new death off like a nonchalant Nazi reluctantly working the late shift in Auschwitz.

In the end, 13 Assassins is a perfectly decent action flick set up by an interesting first half of exposition and off screen mutilation. Compared to learning what's in Auditions' sack, this might not be the most memorable of Miike's films but it's still worth the ride. Also, considering how many movies the show-off makes per year, it's a shame that only a handful leak out into the rest of the world. Beyond the fun of just watching the movie, this taught me so much about Japan that I didn't previously know. I've been doing a Newspaper round for about ten years and these days I'm a little lazy with it. I'm meant to deliver about three-hundred papers but in reality I think I post about two and then throw the rest in the canal. In comparison to my act of complacent efficiency, the Samurai take their job way too fucking seriously.

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Better The Devil You Know

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Skyfall Is Where We Start

Being the miserable cunt that I am, I'm obviously not a fan of special occasions. I could rant all day about my hatred of jolly, merry Shitmas but the rest are just as bad. All of the other yearly occasions were simply invented to make insecure people feel loved at the benefit of card companies. I hate to sound like a twat but if I have to pick a side, I'd rather be labelled as a 'cynic' than be a dead-eyed member of team gullible. Despite all that however, there is one thing that I look forward to more than anything else and that's the release of a new James Bond film. If commercialised affection isn't for me then you can damn well bet that watching a misogynist shooting a Russian in the face is. I think that everybody should also agree that after fifty years and twenty-three official films, the latest adventure to feature one of Britain's finest contributions to pop-culture really is something that should be celebrated. Given a choice between a birthday or 007's latest premier, I honestly prefer the one that doesn't make me feel a year closer to fucking death.

Because of this, Skyfall has a lot of expectation to live up to. Not only has it got several generations of film lovers eager to see it but it's been four years since the release of Quantum of Solace. I'm a punctual chap in general who treats lateness with such a level of fascism that for every minute waiting for someone who is late, I spend it planning the next holocaust. Considering that Bond has had me waiting for approximately one thousand, four hundred and fifty days, that suave cunt had better have a fucking good excuse. As it turns out, he bloody well does.

Skyfall begins with Bond trying to salvage a mission gone wrong. Somebody has stolen a hard-drive which contains a list of all known working field agents and M wants it back. Bond therefore gives chase in an attempt to prevent this sensitive information from being released. To be honest, the only thing on my hard-drive is hardcore pornography so I can empathise with MI6 here. God knows what I'd do if my computer was stolen because I'm seriously prepared to kill if anyone even glances towards my browsing history. 

After a destructive motorbike chase, Bond quickly finds himself fighting the thief on the top of a moving train as a fellow agent tries to snipe the assailant from afar. Under M's orders, Bond’s colleague takes a shot, misses the target and accidentally hits him. When I worked as a wedding videographer, the only way I could fuck my job up as much as this would have been if I was caught shaft deep inbetween the bride’s tits. The rest of the film is therefore M's attempt to repair the reputation of MI6, correct the mistake of shooting Bond and avoid the threat of a forced retirement. I don't want to call M incompetent but with Ralph Fiennes walking around, she also seems to have missed the fact that her department has been successfully infiltrated by Lord Voldemort using only a prosthetic nose as a disguise. What a stupid, useless bitch!

Considering that most people would feel short-changed if this was the end, I think it's obvious that 007 doesn't die in the first five minutes. Instead he decides to take a little time out to recuperate on a relaxing sandy beach. We rarely see Bond on holiday so it's interesting to watch what he gets up to. As it turns out he enjoys getting wankered, pissing about with scorpions and fucking people. I'm not a travel agent but I think that's called the 'Charlie Sheen Package'.
 

After an attack on MI6 headquarters, Bond decides to return to work. The stolen hard-drive from the beginning has come back to haunt them and the culprit appears to have some personal vendetta against M. It's not revealed why yet but I suspect it's probably that he saw the Judi Dench fingering scene in Notes on a Scandal. Unfortunately for her, 007 is now out of shape and needs retraining. Since being shot a couple of times, he can now only run several miles, do a few hundred sit ups and really struggles at a few measly pull ups. What a lazy, fat bastard he is!

In the twenty-three films released so far, it seems that there are two kinds of Bond film. There's the slightly more grounded ones like Live and Let Die and then there are the bat-shit crazy ones like Moonraker. I know every Bond film is technically a fantasy but there are obviously various degrees of it. 007 verses the drugs trade is quite grounded whereas Roger Moore riding a hover gondola past the double-take pigeon isn't. On a scale of zero-to-'what the fuck', I'd say that interestingly Skyfall is heading back into the more fantastical kind of Bond film. Personally I don't have a problem with this so long as they stay in control by continuing to hire respectable directors. Sam Mendes proved his credibility when he won an Oscar for American Beauty, a film which brilliantly depicted a man having a midlife crisis. Lee Tamahori helmed Die Another Day and has since been arrested for dressing up as a woman and trying to charge random men for a shag. No prizes for guessing which of those two had the better insight into the mind of James Bond.

One of the more fantastical elements of Skyfall is of course the crazed villain Raoul Silva. Played by Javier Bardem, he's a bit like a cross between Hannibal Lecter, The Joker and Quentin Crisp. I won't reveal too much about him except to say he's brilliant and proper full-on gay. As far as I know, there hasn't been a male villain who threatens Bond with sex since Grace Jones fucked him in A View to a Kill. Each Bond villain in the Daniel Craig films has had a disability and Skyfall is no exception. Again, I won't reveal it, except to say it's worse than Le Chiffre's bleeding eye but not as awful as Dominic Greene being French.

The other thing that I really loved about Skyfall was just how much of it was set in Britain. There's always been an odd relationship between Bond and Batman and there's no denying that this film borrows from The Dark Knight. The shots of Bond surveying London from the rooftops are iconically similar to Batman guarding his city of Gotham and there's a downbeat tone suggesting that not everyone will survive. Bond’s dead parents also get highlighted and used as the motivation for his life a little like Batman's always were. I think it's strange that being an orphan would make Bond want to become a spy as both my parents are alive and nothing could drive me to kill more than them. None of these comparisons are a criticism either by the way, as Nolan has made a career out of pilfering from 007 in the first place. To be honest I think if that fucker tries to take anything else from Bond he should be punished and forced to direct the next film in the franchise. That'd teach the talented little shit a lesson!

It was always obvious that Mendes would be able to handle the drama of a Bond film but the question was ‘could he do the action too?’ So far the closest thing he's done to this is Jarhead which follows a gulf war soldier who, in an act of pure visual cinema, didn't kill a single bloody person. I hate to reveal my own mental issues but if Bond hasn't fucked and killed some dumb broad within the first hour then I'm really not happy. It's not that I'm a sexist, it's just that he is and I'm a little afraid of any change whatsoever. Luckily however, Mendes knows this and so deals with the death and destruction in a suitably nonchalant way. At one point there's a game of 'shoot the bottle off a girls head' followed by a brilliant, cold-hearted and fucked up quip from Bond. To be honest I'm glad the quips are making a return as from 007's previous one liners, it's obvious that like Fatty Arbuckle, he's always going to be known for being more of a killer than a comedian. However nothing beats a man with a prosthetic hand struggling to remove a watch before Roger Moore angrily calls him a “Butterhook”.

The other great thing that Mendes did was bring over his regular cinematographer Roger Deakins. For anyone that doesn't know, a cinematographer is simply the guy who hangs the lights up and makes a film look all pretty and shit. In terms of the people doing that job, Deakins is one of the best and a genuine genius. Being a reserved and gentle Brit, he's also one of the better DoP's that's not stupid enough to slag off The Avengers and piss off the fanboys. His inclusion on Skyfall is an act of sheer brilliance with this clearly now being the most visually impressive Bond film ever. Thinking about it, I'd probably say that the Shanghai sequence was so beautiful that with it's neon lighting I swear they must have invented some brand new colours for us.

There's also a shadowy noir feel to Skyfall that creates a blanket of mood so heavy it could almost smother Bond himself. In fact, the end of the movie looks so gloomy and haunted that it almost becomes the Bond equivalent of Straw Dogs. Just for clarification though, I mean that in terms of style and tone and not the occurrence of a randomly indulgent rape scene. It took us long enough to accept a blonde Bond so I think it'll be a few more years before we allow him to become a full blown sex offender. Whether he gets consent or not however, I do think it's about time Q branch started supplying him with standard issue condoms. If they designed some of those novelty luminous ones, Deakins could probably control that too and make a sex scene look like some sort of fucking poetic lightsaber fight.

If I have a criticism with Sam Mendes's usual team here, then it would probably be with the hiring of composer Thomas Newman. It's not that the music wasn't good but rather it was possibly too obviously his own. Half the film sounded like American Beauty and then every so often the Bond theme would unsubtly kick in. There was scenes in which Bond was talking to Silva and it genuinely felt like Chris Cooper was going to walk in and shoot them because of his own repressed homosexuality. Having said that though and because I'm really, really cool, I've just spent the last few hours repeatedly listening to the score and it does sound great. Maybe it just felt a little jarring at first because I'm used to the sound of regular Bond composer David Arnold being here. Like I said before, I'm not a fan of change so maybe this will be a grower. I know that the film isn't perfect but I'm genuinely struggling to find anything negative I want to say about it and that was the closest I could think of…

Daniel Craig's ears looked particularly massive but that's not really a fault of the film. If anything they'd probably even help Bond as a spy by acting as a pair of huge, meaty satellites. In fact you know what? Fuck it. The film is genuinely fucking brilliant and probably the best thing I've seen this year. I've been a huge fan of the franchise ever since I was old enough to support the weight of my own head and so this film was as enjoyable and appealing to me as pregnancy is to underage trailer-trash. It's nice to see too, that Craig is settling into the role with the kind of comfort that's going to ensure that every one of his successors will be one day compared to him. Judi Dench was also so stupidly good in this that she's officially become the first and best Bond Woman. She plays the vulnerable but confident surrogate Mum to both Bond and Silva with the two brothers fighting to protect and kill her. It's nice to know that the plot of Skyfall is kept very British and is clearly an adaptation of The Jeremy Kyle Show.  

In a way, Skyfall almost feels like it could, in an alternate world, be the reboot film that Casino Royale turned out to be. Its basic theme seems to be looking at how relevant Bond is in this modern world and then asking if we could get by without him. In fact that the whole set up can be summed up by Bond and M's first exchange in Goldeneye. She accuses him of being a, “Sexist, misogynist, Dinosaur. A relic of the Cold War!” before admitting that, “If you think for one moment I don't have the balls to send a man out to die, your instincts are dead wrong”. To her cold hearted credit she at least can't be accused of being two faced!

Skyfall spends its duration subtly and lovingly hinting towards 007's past films and upbringing and then like a twat, rather bluntly burns it all to the ground. By the end of this film, Bond is as complete, fresh and attachment free as Sean Connery's was at the start of Dr No. As far as last scenes go, Skyfall's is almost fifty years in the making and has created a level of excitement not felt since Batman Begins revealed the Joker card. The franchise has being going for half a century and the line; “He'll see you now” has ensured a freshness of direction that makes the sequel just too exciting to think about. Is Bond still relevant? Relevant's got nothing to do with it. Bond has an unexplainable and ingrained sense of loyalty to his country and so do we, to him. It's a similar relationship that fatties share with cake and lard.

For as long as they make films, Bond will be around with each new adventure being treated with the excitement and sense of occasion that they genuinely deserve. Perhaps the character has been a little lost since the Cold War ended, but finally with Skyfall he knows where he is and has found his place in our world. That's definitely more than can be said of hairy man-tit David Hasselhoff and he's still got a career. Five decades since the first film and I'm already looking forward to being in the queue for Bond 24. If there's two things us Brits love, it's a Bond movie and a good queue. Throw in a cup of tea and some repressed sexual urges and you've got yourself a perfect Saturday night. Is Skyfall the best Bond? Maybe- I'm just glad that we've now got twenty-three to choose from and there's a chance that it could be.

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You Call That A Knife?!

Steve Irwin was a conservationist, and a proper fucking nutcase, who spent his entire life caring for animals and then doing his best to piss them off. There's no denying that the man knew his stuff although even I'm aware that most creatures don't like being poked in the eye for fun... and higher ratings. I don't mean to insult his television shows but should an animal documentary really have so much in common with Jackass? The only thing missing from The Crocodile Hunter was a beard of pubes and a cast of bruised ball-sacks. I presume Irwin's risky method of teaching was intended to prove that animals aren't simply monsters and so won't just kill for no reason. Unfortunately however this lesson seemed somewhat undermined when one of them decided to freak the fuck out and left him for dead on a beach.

The irony of course was that of all the creatures that he annoyed, the identity of his killer was both surprising and anti-climactic. The man made a living from dry humping Crocodiles and pissing about with snakes and yet in the end he was murdered while paddling with a stingray. No offense to that odd looking fish but if the sea had vaginal flaps, I strongly suspect they'd look alike. The fact that Irwin was killed by the ocean’s equivalent to a meaty cape just goes to prove one thing- Australia is fucking dangerous.

Wolf Creek was a 2005 horror movie telling the story of a group of tourists who went missing in the Australian outback. The film is allegedly “based on a true story”, which technically isn't lying but only in a Bible-y sort of way. They're both completely true unless you're after any facts or honesty at all. It's sort of like how The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is based on the factual story of Ed Gein who didn't live in Texas and didn't massacre anybody with a chainsaw. Not that this is a problem by the way. Due to the films content, if it was based on a true story, Wolf Creek would be horrifically exploitative and as morally sinister as R Kelly offering to child-mind with a full bladder and a throbbing erection.

In a way, Wolf Creek is a film of two halves with the first section being spent getting to know our three main characters. The group consists of two British girls named Liz and Kristy and an Aussie, surfer type dude called Ben. Liz and Kristy are played by two Australian actresses who are about as convincing as Brits as George Lazenby was when he played James Bond in OHMSS. In 1969 the only way 007 could have seemed more Australian would have been if he'd killed Blofeld with a boomerang, drank a can of Fosters, committed infanticide and then blamed it on a dingo.

Accent aside however, Liz and Kristy are genuinely believable characters that I completely bought throughout. It's a credit to them too, that after thirty minutes I also very nearly stopped staring at the freakishly large stalactite chin attached to Liz's face. I don't mean to make a big deal out of it but there was one point when, despite all evidence to the contrary, I convinced myself Liz might actually be played by Bruce Campbell. The third character of Ben was an Aussie played by an Aussie so it's hard to criticise him. He's a bit of an idiot but not in an unlikeable way- more in an adrenaline junkie kind of way. It's not that I dislike people who surf in an ocean infested with sharks, it's just that the term, “adrenaline junkie” is clearly the polite way of saying someone’s a knob-head. Oh and by the way, did I mention Liz's huge chin? Honestly if you stuck a nipple on the end of it, I reckon she'd have herself a pretty sexy face-boob.

Anyway so like I said the first half of the film is all set up with the three tourists having decided to take a road trip into the outback. We learn the dynamics of the characters and watch as Ben develops a crush on 'Liz the chin'. During their journey, one of the sites that they intend to stop off at is a giant meteor crater known as Wolf Creek. For anyone unsure, a meteor is basically a giant rock that falls from the sky and not, as my friends genuinely assumed, a type of dinosaur. After I corrected them they laughed at their mistake and then informed me that they'd actually gotten it confused with the dinosaur known as a Minotaur... I need to get myself some new fucking friends.

As soon as they get to their destination, things start to go a little wrong. Their car mysteriously breaks down leaving them stranded and alone in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere. Considering how dangerous that country is, with its venomous spiders, massive snakes and boxing kangaroos, if I were them I'd have accepted my upcoming death a lot more quickly. It's at this point that the main villain of the film finally arrives and in the form of a friendly, old-school style Aussie bloke called Mick Taylor.

Played by John Jarrett, Mick may well be my favourite horror character of the last decade or so. To my mind, his only main competitor would probably be Jigsaw from The Saw series, but in honesty he really pisses me off. He preaches to everyone about savouring life and yet spends all of his time building torture chambers instead of going to chemotherapy. Although even beyond the stupidity of his motives, I think what annoys me most about Jigsaw is just how much of a pretentious, bald cunt he is. Mick on the other hand is a great laugh and if it wasn't for all the killing and craziness, he'd make great company down at the pub. Being an Australian archetype, he's kind of like a cross between Mick Dundee and Jack the Ripper. He's a violent crazy bastard but fuck it at least he's having fun. I guess it serves as a good reminder of Australia's history as a giant prison. Even the friendliest of people there are descended from a British convict and so shouldn't be trusted… kind of like scousers.

The clever thing about the film however, is that Mick never quite becomes an anti-hero. After meeting the three main characters at Wolf Creek, he proceeds to take them back to his home and torture them. However, where other films have fallen in love with their villain, at no point here do you find yourself on his side. An example of this sort of character could be Hannibal Lector who started off as a creepy cannibal before evolving into a loveable, dapper gent with an insatiable taste for face. Despite Mick being such a laugh, there's a moment where 'Liz the chin' points a gun at him and all you want her to do is blow his fucking head off. This is probably due to the films genius of allowing us to get to know the victims in the first half. Now that we've formed a bond with them, it's less enjoyable to watch them die. That's coincidentally also why in reality I never learn the first name of any whores.

In a way, the difference between Wolf Creek and most other slashers is the same as the difference between Saw and Saw 2. Rather than being presented with a gang of talking meat, we are watching likeable humans who we want to see survive. In Saw 2, the conflict isn't how are the victims going to get away but rather how are they going to die. The traps are too complicated, the characters too weak and the investigating detective is Donnie Wahlberg. If I was being held hostage and my only chance of hope was a member of 'New Kids on the Block', I'd probably leap eyes first into the pit of needles just to save time.

The point that I'm starting to drag out is that for the viewer, watching the violent scenes in Wolf Creek is actually less of a sadistic pleasure and more of a masochistic endurance test. Just to clarify, an example of sadism would be the derivation of pleasure from burning Piers Morgan for his corruption with fiery copies of the News of the World. Masochism would be like forcing yourself to wank with a knife up your arse whilst staring at a picture of Britney Spears's snaggletoothed vagina.

The very first torture scene in Wolf Creek is voyeuristically shot through the crack of a broken window. Like the cupboard scene in Blue Velvet, this isn't done to titillate the audience but rather instil a feeling of helplessness, fear and realism. There's no close-ups or kinetic flourishes to remind us that this is actually a movie. Instead it's filmed amateur-porno style with a handheld grittiness that's more reminiscent of a news story than a Hollywood film. By underplaying everything that happens, it really helps to highlight the nihilism of our world and the pointlessness of life. Mick kills for seemingly no reason at all and does so apparently free of any civilised consequences. There's probably not a God and the loneliness and pointlessness of Mick's killings really do highlight just how little everything really means. However, as depressing as that might sound don't forget that Wolf Creek is still a righteous chucklefest in comparison to the grimness and cynicism of the genuinely evil Sex and the City 2.

However it's not all just doom and gloom as visually, the film looks genuinely phenomenal. This is mostly down to the gorgeous scenery that the Aussie landscape has to offer, although its vastness does still highlight how insignificant we all really are. I guess as a country, Australia is a bit like Ted Bundy- there's no denying that it is fucking dangerous, but it can scrub up well when it needs to. In fact it could be argued that the whole of Wolf Creek is simply about the clash between civilisation and the wildly uncivilised. In a way, Mick is the face of the outback with his final shot almost highlighting his connection to the uncontrollable wilderness. It seems that he feels as genuinely comfortable in that environment as a drunk Lindsey Lohan does when facehugging a camera lens with her vagina. I suppose everybody just has their natural place in this world.

Wolf Creek came out during the height of the 'gorno' craze and so was unfortunately and wrongly placed into that category. The only thing that Hostel did was spend ninety minutes chopping its characters up and then boring my tits off. This is something that was proved to me when I had a girlfriend who told me how genuinely clever Hostel Part 2 was. The fact that she also once asked me, “Where about in England is Down South?” may indicate the level of intelligence required to enjoy that crap franchise.

In the end I'd say Wolf Creek is actually a lot closer to something like Jaws than any of that 'gorno' bollocks. Both are less explicit than you might remember with the camera actually instead focusing more on the suffering of the victims than the actual injuries they've sustained. In the way that Jaws has put me off ever going back into the sea Wolf Creek too has ensured I'll never go backpacking anywhere ever. Not that I had any plans to visit Australia anyway. Beyond all the murderous wildlife and psychotic loners, you've got to question the morals of a country willing to inflict Kylie Minogue onto Western civilisation. I know I enjoy the masochistic pleasure of enduring Wolf Creek, but listening to that Aussie midgets hollow, pointless warbling is just a pain too far.

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