Marvel Gets Its Stones Out

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If you visit Amsterdam, there's a sex museum that most people go to in which there are replicas of two giant cocks that you can sit between and have your photo taken. Like one of those giant cocks, the mad titan Thanos is a huge scary bastard with a big purple head who looks like he wants to fuck everything. Although in his case I obviously mean that in a destructive way, such as the time that U2 fucked our iTunes collection by having their latest shit album automatically pollute our phones with their unwanted twangly bollocks. For those who have been living under a rock then Thanos is the villain in Marvel's latest Avengers: Infinity War and who we've been warned has been coming for quite some time now. Which is another similarity to a giant cock I suppose. Although if you're not completely up to speed on the multi-franchise team-up, then good luck on following whatever the shit is going on in this movie because it doesn't really do much to help bring you in. At one point Peter Parker is sat on his school bus when he spots an alien invasion in the distance. Quick as a flash he web-slings the window open in order to escape and head over to it. If you didn't know he was Spider-Man, then you're essentially watching a young man fling his stringy 'substance' at a window, which is something you can't even get away with at an Amsterdam sex museum.

Black Heroes Matter

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Saying that there are too many superhero movies is a bit like claiming to be a “stable genius” in that the only realistic response to both should be to ask, “what the fuck are you talking about?” Both Thor: Ragnarok and Justice League are technically 'superhero' movies but do they have any real similarities? The former was like getting stoned and watching Masters Of The Universe through a kaleidoscope whereas the latter was like stumbling over in the dark and getting dog shit in your eyes... except in that case you kind of hoped you'd go blind. Black Panther is the latest film to be released within the Marvel Cinematic Universe and again it couldn't be more different from what's come before. I guess when people think of 'superhero' movies they think of a super-powered nobody putting on a mask to protect their identity before going out to fight crime. And I suppose Black Panther does wear a mask to fight things. But so do Mexican wrestlers and nobody seems to include them despite how many dwarves they defeat. Rather than tackling crime though, Black Panther is actually about a newly coronated king as he attempts to protect the throne of his advanced albeit isolated African nation from an outsider that's understandably bitter about colonisation and the treatment of his race. To dismiss that as 'just another superhero movie' would be like indiscriminately breathing in carbon monoxide on the grounds of “fuck it.. it's all just gas”.

When Netflix Treated Us To A Dump

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The Cloverfield Paradox reminds me of a present I got a few years ago for Christmas. Ripping the wrapping paper apart with eager anticipation I was forced to fake a smile when I discovered that the only thing that my Dad had got me was a fucking cheap plastic dinner tray. “Oh that's useful”, said my stepmum, “we didn't have a dinner tray but now we can use that one”. So not only did I have a shit present but it wasn't even a shit fucking present for me. Anyway, we all knew that a new Cloverfield movie was coming but I'm not sure that many people knew we'd be getting it quite as soon as we did. Expecting a cinematic release at some point in the year, it was actually announced during the Superbowl that the film would be available to watch on Netflix as soon as the game was over. As a fan of the first movie and an even bigger fan of 10 Cloverfield Lane, I felt the excitement hit me like I'd been head butted in the stomach by an angry dwarf. It literally did feel like Christmas day all over again but better because I wasn't in anyway obligated to see my family. Loading up my friend's Netflix account like the fucking leech that I am, I selected the movie and began to watch it. I appreciate that like it was a gift that was given to me out of the blue. But like the time I got the dinner tray for Christmas, I can't help but feel like what I really got was a slap in the fucking face.

Lifting Your Spirits

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Pixar's Coco tells the story of a Mexican family that have been dramatically let down by a musician, which is something that I'm sure we can all relate to. Especially if you're also a Morrissey fan and are finding it increasingly difficult to defend the mad-bastard comments that he keeps making. Here however they're simply hurt by a family member that picked up his guitar and fucked off to pursue his musical ambitions instead of staying to be with them. As a result the family has banned all forms of music from being enjoyed within their vicinity, which includes stifling Miguel, the youngest member of their family, and his dreams of playing guitar. All of this seems a bit harsh to me. Everybody gets fucked by something at some point but at no point did my great-grandmother ever ban me from being impregnated by a sailor with the clap. Despite this, Miguel still sneaks into the loft when everybody is asleep in order to practice guitar against his families wishes. Again.. what young boy hasn't hidden himself away during the night so that he can strum his instrument? Eventually his family discover his secret and in a moment of pure rage his grandmother grabs his guitar and smashes it against the floor. I actually got really angry at this bit. Miserable old knobhead. Miguel should have smashed something that she loves to teach her a lesson. Her fucking fragile bitch hips for example..

Oldman Does As He Must

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In many ways the problem with Gary Oldman's Winston Churchill make-up is how good it is. Because most of the time you stare amazed at how spot-on it looks, and then he takes his glasses off and you're distracted by the fact that Churchill is wearing Gary Oldman's fucking eyes. Obviously it'd be impossible to get the likeness completely perfect, but this film comes so close that whenever a minute imperfection appears you're distracted for a split second and reminded that it's all a performance. It's kind of like having a friend that's a reformed drug addict over for lunch and having the best time ever with them, but, despite how much you know they've changed their circumstances and who they are, if they were to even look at the medicine cabinet you'd get a momentary flash of them squirting Germaline into their gums and then burning the house down to hide your murdered corpse. As the hunched and bulldog-like Prime Minister paces through the shadows, you could be easily forgiven for thinking we were directly looking back through time at the real man. But then he'll lean too far forwards, his prosthetic jowls will hang slightly oddly and briefly you'll be expecting him to burst into song like Dame Edna's Goblin King from The fucking Hobbit.

It's Chaos... Be Kind

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The best sign I ever saw simply said, “I fucked Jackie Smith on these steps and up the arse. What a slag”. Well, it wasn't so much of a sign as it was a bit of graffiti scrawled on a wall in Birkenhead but I think we got the message. If you ever meet a girl called Jackie Smith then buy her a drink because apparently she's fucking cool! In Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri Frances McDormand's grieving mother has a similar idea on how to spread her message... except rather than being a scrawled and misogynistic review of some post-bummed tart, McDormand is fucked off with the local police for failing to solve the case of her raped and murdered daughter. To quote director Martin McDonagh's brothers film Calvary, “That's certainly a startling opening”. Apparently the French title for this film translates back into English as The Billboards Of Wrath which is clearly a better title than what it ended up being. Not least of all because I keep accidentally referring to this film as The Three Burials Of Melquiades Estrada which is a slightly forgotten Tommy Lee Jones western from about ten years ago. Not to go on about Martin McDonagh's director brother however but perhaps another fitting title for this movie might have been his War On Everyone because in this film and presumably like Jackie Smith, Frances McDormand's character does not give a fuck about who she shits on to have her way.

Freaks And Geeks

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“Do you want to go and watch that new Hugh Jackman thing?” I asked my mate. “The musical?” he responded, “Hell yeah I want to see that.. but where will we see it?” This question threw me slightly because we literally only ever go to the same cinema. “Err where do you think?” I asked. “Well..” he responded with slight irritation, “It's a musical isn't it so how the fuck am I supposed to know?” “It's still a film though” I stated whilst still confused. “Oh” he said with an obvious realisation that I was about to take the piss out of him. “Did you think it was a live show?” I asked whilst knowing full well that he had. “Well ..yeah” he answered sheepishly “But it's an easy mistake to make isn't it?!” ...“You thought that Hugh Jackman was doing a live musical show around here.. in the arse-end of nowhere.. and not only was I asking if you were interested the day before but that tickets would still be available for us to just rock up with zero notice?” “Yes” he snapped whilst now on the defence. “Well, I'm sorry to disappoint” I said remembering that he was the same person that once thought a double cheese-burger meant that he'd get a single burger with double cheese on top. “Do you still want to come?” I checked. “Yeah” he said, “But can you do me a favour? When you write about this film in your blog can you not tell people that it was me who thought I'd be seeing Hugh Jackman live?” “That's not a problem, Kris” I promised, “Nobody will ever know it was you”.

They've Got Fun And Games

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Jumanji is an average film that people remember as being better than it was because nostalgia is a drug and we all love Robin Williams. That original movie involved playing a magical board-game in which animals spawned out of it and caused mass devastation on the real world. Although I'd argue that it still wasn't quite as destructive as the average game of Monopoly can be. We once played a game in which - I swear to God - one friend attempted to avoid going bankrupt by offering fucking blow-jobs around. Considering the popularity of the original film, it's odd that it's taken over twenty years for a sequel to come out and I have no idea why that might have been? Maybe Robin Williams was reluctant to return? Or maybe there was a sequel in 2005 called Zathura: A Space Adventure and everybody forgot it instantly? I guess we'll never know. To keep things fresh, this sequel decides to do things a little differently to the original. Rather than being about a board-game releasing a load of animals into our world, it's about a video-game that sucks people into its world. Just to write that again so you can take it in without shitting your pants.. this is a sequel that dares to do something new. Thank God it wasn't a Star Wars movie or people would be pressing rape charges against it for ruining their childhood about now.

Sharking A Lively Chum

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People say that the reason Jaws is scary is due to our fear of the unknown. When we're bobbing about on the surface of the water there could be literally anything below, and that's what terrifies us the most. I'd argue that, as true as that is, the other reason it's scary has probably got something to do with the giant fuck-off shark in it. I mean, look at those fucking things. They're basically torpedoes with teeth at one end, an arse at the other, and the black, soulless eyes of Piers Morgan. I'm told that Jaws isn't really an accurate representation of a shark's behaviour and has resulted in the poor wickle fishey's being demonised. Awe! It must be so hard being one of the most perfectly evolved predators on the planet and knowing that us tasty humans think that you're a bit of a twat. Literally the only way that they could look more like killers would be if they had a skull tattoo on their fin and just below their nose was the moustache of Danny fucking Trejo.

Why It's Good That People Might Hate This Movie

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A lot of people are going to hate Star Wars: The Last Jedi. But then a lot of people believe that it's good luck to be shat on by a bird as it flies over and so ultimately who even gives a fuck about what 'people' think? When reading about the latest Star Wars movie, it's always useful to know how a person already feels about the franchise in order to gauge the reason for their response and decide how much shite they're talking. Oh, you think Jar Jar is shit because he's for children, but the Ewoks are cute? Just give me a second to ignore almost everything that your nostalgia-cursed brain is about to crap out. Not that I'm defending Jar Jar of course. Fuck him. He literally looks like a racist person dreamed about that time a Rastafarian accidentally fucked a duck. To get you up to speed with me, I fell in love with the original films during the 1997 re-release at the perfect age of 8. When I was a kid, Han Solo was the coolest person I could think of that wasn't Roger Moore, and as a 12 year old I accidentally had my first wank whilst using my cock to pilot my imaginary X-Wing as I tried to blow up the Death Star. Who knew an explosion could be so life changing?! I was about ten years old when the prequels came out and, initially, I loved them, but as I became increasingly infected by common sense, I came to see them for the soulless husks of crap they are. Oh.. and to skip to the end.. I loved The Last Jedi with pretty much all of my cholesterol-choked heart.

How's Your Father?

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You might not think it at first glance but Lethal Weapon and Daddy's Home 2 actually make a pretty good Christmas movie double-bill. The first film begins with Mel Gibson sticking a gun in his own mouth and the second one ends with you wishing you could join him. I don't know if you saw the first Daddy's Home film but I hope you did because this sequel certainly fucking assumes that you have. Without offering any context Daddy's Home 2 shows Mark Wahlberg and Will Ferrell obsessing over each other, worrying about each other, and doing their best to make sure that their children are happy. I had to explain to my friend who was new to the franchise that the two men were step-parents to each others kids and not as this film presents them; a gay couple designed by the fucking Stepford Wives. The set up for this movie is that the two men have decided to combine their families and spend Christmas together. Except, to avoid it descending into an exact replica of the first film, they've also decided to invite both of their own fathers, John Lithgow and Mel Gibson, to join them. And then later on John Cena turns up too as somebody else's Dad for some reason. Essentially this movie is like a festive set remake of Multiplicity except instead of a load of Michael Keaton clones you get a conveyor belt of shit Dads turning up instead.

The Faulty Tower

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The Dark Tower tells the story of a teenaged boy whose parents are worried about the fact that he's constantly having strange dreams about a huge tower and a man with a big gun. No guesses as to what all that symbolises. Rather than accepting their son's obviously repressed homosexuality however they decide to send him to a psychiatrist. Or maybe it's because of his obviously repressed homosexuality that they've decided to send him there? This is America after all! I should point out that at no point does the film actually deal with the issue of homosexuality in any way, shape, or form. But if the kid came to me and explained that dream to me then I don't think I'd be blamed for giving him a pat on the back, telling him that it doesn't matter, and then hoofing him out the door for an impromptu holiday to Brighton. Anyway - so the kid's dreams come true, he travels through a magical portal into a far away world, Idris Elba protects him from monsters, and Matthew McConaughey tries to get him to scream down a tower that's protecting our planet from a demon attack. You'll notice that I didn't add “and he got the girl” in there. Hmm...

They Deserved Justice

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Despite my better judgement I was actually looking forward to Batman V Superman, and so you can imagine how silly I felt when it turned out to be a shit-spackled slab of cinematic dross. You can probably also imagine how silly I felt when, after having seen it, I again found myself getting excited for its Justice League sequel. Had I already forgotten about Jessie Eisenberg's performance as Lex Luthor which was more annoying than a wart on the gooch? Surely I could remember the 'Martha, Martha, Martha!' scene which made less sense than Donald Trump's pubic knots? Well, despite all of this, I had a small lump in my heart that Superman would no doubt claim as 'hope'. On retrospect it was probably just mounded cholesterol because, in the words of the great George W Bush, “Fool me once, shame on.. shame on you. Fool me... You can't get fooled again!” Without trying to mince my words, I am unhappy to report that Justice League is load of total wank.

Life Is Unbearable

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I remember playing in a park when I was a child, when a friend casually dropped her pants and took a shit on the ground. I don't know what game she thought we were playing but it made finding her during 'hide and seek' a hell of a lot easier. Her public dumping seemed odd at the time, except since then the rest of the world seems to have turned to shit too, and so what the hell difference does one extra turd make? At one point during Paddington 2, Julie Walters' character declares that “all actors are evil”... She only says that too because she saw an actor trying to steal something. Wait until she gets backstage with Kevin Spacey; then she'll see what they're really capable of. As I write this now, the comedian Louis C.K. has just had to issue an apology for forcing women to watch him wank off, because the entertainment industry apparently only hires rapists, perverts, or Piers fucking Morgan. Over here in Britain, we're shooting ourselves in the cock with a little project called Brexit that allowed xenophobes to pretend that they actually have a deep and complex understanding of the economy. Oh and let's not forget the game show host in the White House that's attempting to start a nuclear war over Twitter to compensate for the fact that the only thing lower than his I.Q. is his droopy old-man balls.

A Pleasant Enough Ride

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Murder On The Orient Express tells the story of a large moustache as it's forced to participate in a murder investigation by its detective owner. Hercule Poirot is everybody's favourite Belgian detective after Tintin's dog, with this film telling the story of his inability to travel from one point to another without tripping over another corpse. Even when the fucker is off duty he manages to find himself in the company of a murder victim and for some reason the police never seem to even suspect that he might be the killer. I mean, even the simple villagers only believed the boy who cried wolf a couple of times... Poirot, it seems, could literally be unloading his balls onto a corpse and the police seemingly wouldn't even question him. Anyway, the story begins here when Poirot boards a train in which a sinister chap played by Johnny Depp is murdered. Although considering that we now live in a post-Weinstein world, the story could almost have skipped the murder altogether and simply had him try to work out which of the A-List cast wasn't a sexual predator. As Poirot prowls the train he claims to be the worlds greatest detective and yet this is a case that seems to stump him. I don't mean to brag but it doesn't take the worlds greatest detective to solve the case of the dead Johnny Depp. Just check who might still be the beneficiary of his life insurance and then point the fucking train in the direction of Amber Heard's house.

Gerard Butler's Best Film Yet?!

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Geostorm begins with a sub-Sarah Connor-esque voice-over in which we're told that we should have been nicer to the planet before it began fucking us over with the weather. But who cares? I live in England. We've been getting fucked by the weather since time began! In fact the more extreme the weather gets, the happier we secretly are, with a good moan being one our favourite things to do after making a cup of tea and indulging in some casual racism. Anyway don't worry about all that global warming shite because Gerard Butler has designed a satellite-thing that floats around in space and can manipulate the weather in order to prevent any potential disasters. And let's face it.. if Gerard Butler can solve the problem then any old prick with at least a couple of opposable thumbs and a rough grasp of how to walk upright will probably be able to manage it. The problem is that things have started to go wrong with the satellite due to the sinister interference of somebody intending to fuck the weather up and wreak cheap CGI destruction on the planet. Butler has therefore been sent up to solve the mystery before things get worse, which is despite the much bigger mystery at the centre of this movie of... how the fuck does the 'actor' Gerard Butler still get work?

Waititi's Lightning In A Bottle?

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Thor movies are a bit like taking a massive fart. When done with the right amount of humour there's a good chance that you'll get away with it and everything will be okay. However, and as was the case with Thor: The Dark World, if the thing feels as though it's been forced out for the sake of it then, like a fart, there's also a definite possibility that you'll be left with something 'a little shit'. It also seems that the best films within the MCU are made by directors of note. Shane Black's Iron Man 3 was his typical Christmas-set story of a wise-talking crime fighter that gets wrapped up in a Hollywood conspiracy. Joss Whedon's Avengers was his usual group of weirdos coming together to form a surrogate family with each other as they battle supernatural-esque forces. With Thor: Ragnarok we see the comedy genius of indie director Taika Waititi as he makes what he drunkenly described in an interview as being “about a guy just trying to get home because there's a burglar in his house, and he's stuck with this giant bi-polar guy who gets angry all the time, and a drunk chick, and an annoying brother, and that's it. But with spaceships... and Jeff Goldblum”.

Kick My Brains Around The Floor

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Atomic Blonde's stench is so thick with the intoxicating funk of the 1980's that it feels like you've fallen asleep on a post-rave David Hasselhoff and then suffocated to death on the fumes of his hair spray. From one half of the directing duo behind the unquestionably brilliant John Wick, you might assume that this film will equally be a Charlize Theron-shaped kick to the bollocks. And you'd be right. However Atomic Blonde is also a German-set espionage adventure that takes place as the Berlin wall looks as likely to fall as a piss-head on a pogo-stick before he slurs the condemning phrase of, “wanna see something cool?” As such the story here isn't quite as streamlined as John Wick's “get the fuck away from my dog” simplicity with this sister film including a hint of John le Carré to go with its kick-ass John Woo-iness. Theron plays Broughton, an MI6 agent tasked with retrieving a stolen list containing the names of every single undercover agent that's currently on active duty. Or as the script, in our post-Mission: Impossible, Post-Skyfall world should probably have said, “insert cliched MacGuffin here”.

Is The Blade Runner Sequel A Benefit Or A Hazard?

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Like the sky being blue, two and two equalling four, and Piers Morgan being a rancid cock of a man, there are some things in life that simply can not be argued with. The status of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner as a masterpiece is also one of these things. Few works of art have gone on to influence so much in their wake, with Blade Runner being directly responsible for everything from the design of almost every sci-fi film since its release to the simple fact that even my fucking phone is now 'more human than human'. When asked if he was nervous about entering Ridley Scott's world with his sequel Blade Runner 2049, director Denis Villeneuve responded, “of course. I had to find a way of not being like a vandal in a church”. Well, it turns out that the talented prick need not have worried because in the way that his film focuses on the mystery of a miracle, it seems that he has delivered one of his own. Not only is he not a vandal at the church but he's taken a sledge hammer to its back wall and discovered a secret cathedral hidden behind. If Blade Runner is sci-fi's holy grail then in the way that this sequel maintains its core themes and mysteries whilst also expanding on them and exploring its own agendas, Blade Runner 2049 is the holy grail but with added bells and tits on it.

The Times They Aren't A-Changin'

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Kathryn Bigelow's latest film Detroit deals with the race riots of the 1960's, with particular focus on the horrors of one particular night. Whilst staying in a cheap and shitty hotel, several innocent black characters and two white girls find themselves lined up against a wall by the police who then proceed to beat, humiliate, and occasionally murder them. Suddenly I don't feel I can moan about how crap my night in a Travelodge was, even though there was a bit of shit on the shower curtain and some snot on the pillow. Some people might wonder why Bigelow chose to make this film now. After all, slavery was abolished over 140 years ago and, bar a few minor blips like this film depicts in the 60's and 70's, I think more or less everything has been plain sailing for black people since then. I mean, sure, they're still getting shot by the police in America for having done literally fuck all, and the leader of the free world does seem to be a racist fuck-wit that's supported by a group of small-dicked Nazi's that he refuses to condemn. But you know, “there's blame on both sides”; black people for understandably desiring equal rights and opportunities, and racists for having the IQ of a dying skunk's stagnant faecal matter.

The Golden Circle Of Life

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A little while ago I heard an interview in which director Matthew Vaughn said that he'd dreamt up a scenario for Mark Strong's character in his Kingsman sequel that was so batshit and insane that he'd have to ask the actor's permission before committing to the idea. Considering quite how insane the first movie got in which Pride And Prejudice's dashing Mr Darcy fucked up a church full of arse-holes to the sound of both 'Freebird' and a lisping Samuel L Jackson, this seemed like quite a statement for Vaughn to make. Having now seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle I feel I can confirm too that his idea was literally off the charts in its insanity. So off the charts in fact that I actually have no idea as to what it might have been because presumably Mark Strong told him “Err.. no”. From start to finish I spotted literally nothing in this movie that Mark Strong's character did in which you'd assume the director would need permission before writing it into the script. Especially when you consider that Strong only recently appeared in the shite film Grimsby in which his character had to hide up one elephant's vagina as another elephant stuck its cock in, started the special cuddle that people in love do, and then finally jizzed all over him.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

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There's a knock at the door, Javier Bardem's man of the house opens it to reveal a stranger and for some reason his wife, Jennifer Lawrence, doesn't divorce him straight away. If somebody I know knocks on my door then I dive behind the sofa as though a fucking shot has just been fired through the window. If it's a stranger knocking then not only am I not going to answer but I'm one fucking step away from setting the dogs on them. Luckily for them that one step is actually owning some attack dogs, but even if I'm not having these wannabe-guests ripped apart, then I'm still certainly not going to invite them in. Alas this is exactly what Bardem does when Ed Harris's stranger comes a-knocking and despite the fact that they don't know each other from fucking Adam, it's decided that the guest can stay the night. Not that Lawrence is especially happy about this because not only is Ed Harris a stranger but he's also Ed fucking Harris. Nothing good ever happens in movies when Ed Harris shows up. Hey, do you remember that movie where Ed Harris turns up and they all live happily ever after? No! Because it never fucking happens!