The King’s Speech
How did this win the Oscar? How? It is like a true movie. There are hardly any interesting camera angles and the bizarre ending which had everybody applauding and relieved as he managed a speech which ended with half of Europe dead. (I thought of it first Charlie Brooker, you coiffured dandy. Yes, that what you’ve become.) I saw the majority of the listed “Best films” and The Fighter, Black Swan and even Toy Story were more gripping films. Now, this munki is not saying it’s a bad film. Firth is good, although not compared to his outstanding performance in A Single Man. Excuse the poxy pun, but this film stutters b-b-b-bigstyle.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Plod, plod. It goes on and on. You either love it or hate or go “I’ve nothing better to do.” However, apart from the wizardry and sorcery and the bond villain that is Voldermort, the film was made for this munki by the ridiculously unintentionally funny scene where Hermionnnnneeee and Harrrreeee dance to a “O Children” by Nick Cave. Apart from the peculiarity of Nick Cave being in a swords and sorcery movie boggles the mind (Why not Dio/Black Sabbath/Led Zeppelin/Rainbow?), the sight of two pretty average actors being unable to dance was either a stroke of genius or bad direction. Still to hear the lines “They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor Of your broken little hearts” can only give the movie kudos.
The Illusionist (L’Illusioniste)
Sometimes, you sit down with reasonable expectations and get more or less what you expect. This animation was so beautiful and wonderful that tears didn’t flow, but thought they might. You realise what a fucking waste you have made of your life when you see inside the mind of a genius. Jacques Tati’s script is directed by Sylvain Chomet, who also did the Triplets of Belleville (Another classic). The story surrounds a French illusionist who goes to Scotland to work. The colour scheme and animation style was so vivid and old-skool that you wondered why Pixar bother sometimes. I watch this after The Expendables and rightly felt that some Hollywood producers should be given the Clockwork Orange treatment to see if they too could change into reputable members of society. As Satre says, “L’enfer, c’est Stallone.”
Eh. funny? I was locked. I heard it was good though. My inner brain told me.
The thoughts of this made this munki feel more excitable than Hermann Cain. I got an entire vat of crisps and beer and sat close to the screen and strapped in. Sweat dripped from my fur as I pressed play….then, nothing, nothing! Absolutley nothing fucking happened. Yeah, they were all in it. Yeah they all came atcha. But there was not one decent line in the whole movie. Jason Statham looked like he wished that heart-exploding device was real. I felt so ashamed of this film, that I didn’t pump iron for two weeks. If I had a ratings system, I would place this at “for fuck sake,” when “fuck yeah” was the high water line.
My mind bent inside and out and fell over the side of the couch and talke about me behind my back and led to a small stork, stork! I meant stroke. The plot is abour friends who build this contraption which may lead to time travel. After that, my brain bled and went for a walk. Watch it though, it’s pure genius as Danny Glover used to say.
Iron Man – Action movie, bit of fun, even Gwyneth Paltrow was stomachable. Iron Man 2 – like walking into a cubicle in work and seeing somebody else’s shit in the toilet. Disgusted, but wondering who would produce such a thing. Downey Jr needs his vodkatonics.
The reason this movie was made seems to be so that Neil Jordan could ogle Alicja Bachleda’s ass or have her in various states of undress for no apparent reason to do with the story. The wide shot and the anus shot are the order the day here. Colin Farrell excels as a character with a CARK accent doing an impression of an “actor with alcohol dependency issues” while in the guise of a smelly dirty fisherman. I’m glad this film was made, otherwise film board funding might just have gone to waste. Did that sound sarcastic? Neil Jordan and the child are good though. Why is the Irlanda film industry so obsessed with criminals, drug dealers etc?
From Paris with Love
For the first ten minutes of this movie, you kinda get lost in the Parisian beauty. Germ isn’t completely annoying and you long to live in his flat. His girlfriend seems nice (I mean he doesn’t feel the need to shoot her in the face yet). All is well, bon. Then JoJo Travolta shows up and everything descends into a pit of utter bullshit and bull-ets. After an hour watching this, I felt like purchasing an assault rifle armed with the knowledge that if I had shot first at JoJo, he actually would go down. Anyway here’s a spoiler. The best part of the film is when Germ shoots his girlfriend. Is it because she is a suicide bomber or is it because he really wants himself and JoJo to be the first two links in a human centipede?
Waltz with Bashir
Ari Folman’s account of interviews with Israeli soldiers involved in the 1982 invasion of Lebanon is mesmeric and heartbreaking at the same time. The lush animation is so perfect that you lose yourself to it, which makes it all the more disturbing when you are wrenched, at the end of the film, back into non-animated scenes of horror. Stunning and different look at the war genre.
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans
Werner Herzog’s magnificent resurrection of Nic Cage’s career. His best performance since Wild At Heart. Demented, rabid, funny. They don’t really make these kinds of movies at all, ever. Grannies being harrased, drug dealers, dope smoking Quarterbacks, gambling, Iguanas singing “Please release me, let me go,” drugs and drugs and drugs, a dog and Jennifer Coolidge, oh, and Val Kilmer. Two hours of fun; dark, abject fun. In the closing credits, it says “Iguana footage by Werner Herzog.” That really explains it all.
A movie that longs to be Intermission but doesn’t have the quality of I Went Down. Will always be remembered for Brendan Gleeson’s line “You’re a dildo, Kenny!” Rating: Entertaining with plenty of crisps and beer.
I work in a newspaper and yes you do drink a lot of coke like Michael Keaton and yes it is fairly frantic and yes your boss looks like a male version of Glenn Close and yes there was the possibility that your wife could have had a Caesarian and yes your main boss may have ass issues and yes your parents may look like they came out of a Getty Images catalogue, and yes Marisa Tomei even pregnant is hotter than George Asphalt and yes there is the possibility that one good journalist might exist to overcome all bad journalism and then Randy Quaid appears and y’think, “Fuck this”