Lovely wee comedy. It’s not hilarious or anything but it’s witty and clever. What happened to Alicia Silverstone? Was it Batman & Robin (1997) that robbed her of a career? Or maybe she just belongs in the ’90s.
A sad shame.
Clueless (1995).
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These soaps need to die.
I was watching a soul-splintering episode of such cretinous drivel earlier, this viewing not of my choosing, me the captive audience.
It entirely consisted of a ‘character’ with a stubborn point of view being talked into having an apostate opinion by another ‘character’ doing the convincing. This happened four times in varying damp scenarios in under half an hour, and the rest of the ‘drama’ composed of pratfalling village idiots faffing around with mugs of tea and biscuits, these additions to the narrative just a tiny step above the bracket of lobotomy IQ levels.
Absolutely fucking hideous, how these shows still exist is just depressing.
Alien (1979) pioneered the epic trailer.
It’s the original trailer for Alien (1979), and it is up there with the best of them:
Sometimes trailers are art. If you watch the Star Trek (2009) one, for example, with its Two Steps From Hell accompaniment, it’s more accomplished than the actual movie.
There should be awards for trailers.
Joker: Folie à Deux (2024).
Survived an hour of Joker: Folie à Deux (2024).
I understand, after much research, it’s a self-reflexive flick that draws attention to the audience’s alleged complicity in the villain’s crimes, or our fascination in them – hence the tedium, the daft singing, the proverbial strangling-the-cat. If that’s the point, what’s the point? If I want karaoke, I’ll listen to any pub in Edinburgh on a Saturday.
This film is one of the most painful experiences I’ve had to endure this year. I can rustle up a more captivating, less infuriating shitter with £500, and this wouldn’t even be an arduous quest. And I’m a fabulous singer compared to these two sawdust-throated failed crooners.
I fucking hate this movie.
Megalopolis (2024).
A barely cobbled together assortment of various grandiose ideas and sketchy performances, the acting is baroque, the standard mental stuff you get in a Baz Luhrmann film, except he generally makes interesting cinema. Some of the images here catch the eye, but they never coalesce into anything resembling a coherent narrative.
The characters have arguments you can’t even connect with or understand; they bicker for the director’s benefit, in a story based on the Catilinarian conspiracy but without any intrigue, political element, or a Cicero. If ever a movie needed an editor, or someone to just tell the director to grow up a wee bit, it’s this one.
I tried to give it a go as the lad has made some classics, but I was compelled to turn it off at 56 minutes.
Life is too short for this shite.
I’m off to watch Jack (1996) with a Blue WKD.
Quills (2000).
With its soft-focus palette of muted colours, this is a ravishing picture to look at, but the script doesn’t deliver on the talent or the favourable premise – the limits of freedom of expression, the extent to which life imitates art, these addressed through the last days of the Marquis de Sade.
Michael Caine plays it straight as the libertine’s nemesis, with no attempts on his part at scene stealing. He is the best for that, no petty grandstanding from Sir ‘My Cocaine’. Geoffrey Rush is fine, but what could have been a diabolically entertaining performance is squandered by the speed with which the movie descends into repetition and tedium.
It got so lightweight past the hour mark and the Phoenix character’s theological hang-ups served more of a distraction than anything else, shoehorned in with a Kate Winslet romantic subplot that trammeled what looked like a promising showdown between Messrs Rush and Caine.
A wasted opportunity, and it all ends with a whimper.
Gladiator II (2024) is an abomination.
Pathetic, absolutely futile cinema, I was convinced for a torrid opening 20 minutes that this putrid imitator was an AI … thing. Embarrassingly, it’s a verbatim rendering of the first one, with an added siege lifted from Game of Thrones season four, episode nine.
In what passes for a story, which is an appropriation of better material out there, characters do and say the most trite things; there is even a rip-off of that scene from Ben Hur (1959) when creepy Jack Hawkins licks his lips at Charlton Heston’s oar action.
It’s a fucking ridiculously stupid, cynical, pointless and rubbish film and I can’t believe it was made.
Why does anyone still have dealings with this director? He needs banned from making movies.
Shite.
Chopper (2000).
It’s still incredible and funny as hell. In fact, this may be the funniest non-comedy movie ever.
‘Why would I shoot a bloke – BANG – and then put him in the bloody car and whiz him off to the hospital at a hundred miles an hour? It defeats the purpose of having shot him in the first place. What’s more, it’s bloody insulting, it’s bloody insulting. I mean, am I the only bloody standover man in the country who provides a medical plan for some of these characters?’
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984).
The most captivating aspect of this asinine waste of celluloid is that it somehow ‘created’ the PG-13 certificate. Apparently it was too violent. The flick has a legacy, as without this story it’s a forgotten VHS. It’s not violent, it’s just a terrible movie.
There is no sense of wonder at all and it’s burdened by so much inconsequential, incessant bickering between the leads that I thought I was viewing one of those candid cameras in an Aldi, two rat-faced porkers going at it over the last remnants of a pack of bog rolls.
Anyway, I’ve never seen an adventure movie so dull. Or pointless.
Every antagonist is a witless archetype, every utterance an insult to dialogue. The pacing is relentless in its monotony.
I was more captivated reading about the production of this slog on Wikipedia than viewing it.
I hate this film.
Avoid.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 