Author Archives: Ben Gould

Ambulance (2022). The pain of watching this was real.

Always thought Michael Bay was/is a phenomenal visual stylist and technical master – he just requires a good script. 

Before he made Pearl Harbor (2001) he wasn’t just Mr. Hit & Miss, and The Island (2005) is a riot. The rest of his oeuvre is admittedly pish. And Ambulance (2022) is the last title for a film I’d imagine being made by the chieftain of mayhem. And fucking hell is it terrible.

It went on and on and on and on and an hour in it felt like the length of a David Lean picture but without any of the talent. This was ambulances, sirens, bullets, screeching, whizzing, more bullets, dreadful dialogue, shoddy acting, cop cars, choppers, more bullets, more noises, zero characterisation, and more noises. And all tied together with a jarring pointlessness, like, there is no bloody point to anything that happens. I’ve also experienced more captivating shites and once watched a French Bulldog lick its own balls and this was more absorbing than Ambulance.

I turned it off and then even gave up on the Wikipedia plot. 

What a load of wank!

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U-571 (2000).

It is tremendously well made, never boring, nothing special, and no Das Boot (1981), but what ever could be? 

And I have no idea what happened to Jon Bon Jovi in this movie, or why he is in it. 

It’s a mystery but not that much of a mystery that I will commence an investigation.

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The Revenant (2015).

The outrageous pointlessness of The Revenant (2015) annoyed me the most.

It borders on both the bathetic and pathetic, a twin cannon of self-imposed misery propped up with needless sequence shots for the sake of aping some Cobacabana club. But here the aesthetic is redundant as the story is a nothing matter and there are no characters for the duration. A bear makes an appearance and it’s the most colourful personality.

Such a terrible movie. It’s cold out there and the wilderness is cruel – we get it. 

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Fair Play (2023).

Protagonists you wish to hook in the face here … with Gazza’s fishing rod. 

How relevant this is, a tiny coterie of tech geeks manipulating your usual stock-trading inverted universe. Always despised goblins like this, their nauseating patter and lack of manners. But that’s another wee spiel.

As vexing as the encroaching-upon-a-sledge-hammer set-up it is, we do have here depicted a relatable workplace malice, and nights out that segue to a tumbleweed on a Monday morning.  

The shagging scenes were embarrassing to watch. I’ve never seen such painful, smug foreplay and failed pumping in a movie. It would have been marvelous if Mr. Blobby stomped in and jizzed on the pair. 

Anyway, this aside, it was mostly splendid and for long periods it was 86% fully intriguing, a throwback thriller with thoroughly loathsome characters. 

Michael Douglas should have been in it.

And the impeccable Eddie Marsan features. He’s one of the best working today, ever since Paul Bettany fed him a butty in Gangster No.1 (1999).

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World War II: From the Frontlines (2023).

No revelations but the footage is immense.

It’s not The World at War (1973); it’s you experiencing the war as much as is possible from your sofa.

And the voice of Orson Welles makes an appearance.

The Kitchen (2023).

This was almost captivating for 15 minutes and might have presented itself as a candidate for entrance into decent short movie territory. 

But it was shite. 50 mins in, it was starting to descend into being even worse than shite, which isn’t pleasant, really.

So I turned it off. 

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Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014).

Billed as Gary Oldman and some apes, this mostly entails having to watch the insufferable Jason Clarke and his begging antics at the feet of simians. It’s an okay movie despite this monumental bore of an actor.

I turned it off at 64 minutes. I couldn’t see it getting any better and frustration was starting to kick in.

The hairy fellows aren’t much different from denizens of certain areas of Edinburgh. The difference here is that the chimps can speak properly. 

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Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F (2024).

Happy times with Eddie.

This is either going to be absolute shite or okay, i.e., tolerable for nostalgia reasons, on a level of not being shite. Either way, they really need to stop making these things and just create something approaching brave material. Leave good movies alone, stop fiddling with them, cease from converting their original intent into a contemporary, i.e., pathetic, cultural minefield of human beings identifying as staplers.

But it’s going to get way worse before the baloney ends.

Fucking cretins.

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Belfast (2021).

What a talented director this lad can be. 

I didn’t know he was from Belfast and always assumed he was born in the Old Vic, such are the depths of his Shakespeare. 

Decent movie. Nothing in it annoyed me.

It wasn’t rubbish. And that’s all that matters. 

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Tom Wilkinson was the best.

In almost everything, he quietly steals the show. No histrionics or chewing the scenery, but an impeccable talent to convince in every role – mob boss, downtrodden miner, creepy CIA handler. I suppose that’s acting. He excelled at projecting an inscrutable authority, rarely perturbed, but you can see that he’s seething.

Go-to performance, a remarkable gig in Todd Field’s quite brilliant In the Bedroom (2000):

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