A boring prologue that goes on and on. Just cut to the chase, eh. I almost turned it off. But I didn’t.
The ‘fun’ begins at the hotel, and thank fuck for Rowan Atkinson. He’s Basil Fawlty surrounded by hideous cauldron experts. You’ve got the quite brilliant effects work and the director rolling with the lunacy of the premise.
And Bruno makes this movie. “Well, I’m not too keen on being a mouse.” – Bruno.
I hope a witch doesn’t turn me into a mouse.
A.K.A. Rain Man with a Jeff Daniels Dumb and Dumber (1994) haircut indulges in some video games and all hell breaks loose.
This was so fucking atrocious, like … a verified stinker. It has some good ideas (for its era) going for it, but it’s just too unintentionally funny to not be godawful. It’s a right crapper that takes itself seriously, so seriously. Probably the only bad David Cronenberg flick not directed by David Cronenberg.
Pierce thinks he’s onto a winner here. The movie made quite the sum and most likely paved a road for Brosnan to be the (not deserved) victim of Mrs. Doubtfire’s exemplary fruit chucking, and then the Greatest Bond of All Time, so there is that ….
And Hank from Breaking Bad is here.
Not with a lawnmower.
This was fucking awful. And so without worth.
It’s pointless. It’s a sort of desperate black comedy with no laughs, and entirely populated by irritating cunts. And I have nothing else to add to this.
Avoid.
On the Waterfront (1954) is a silly, preachy film with a garbled message but it has a sweeping score and I didn’t know it was a Leonard Bernstein work.
Quite the kerfuffle surrounded Maestro (2023), cooked up by the usual whining lot – the lead actor doesn’t share the same ethnicity as the real-life musician(!). Such hysterics are par for the course these days.
The movie:
All the sycophantic wee groupies grinning away pissed me off, as did the constant smoking; it was tiresome even if accurate. Bit too long, torporific pacing, quite boring.
But I recommend it merely for showing a time when famous people were exemplary talents who had something that most mortals couldn’t do.
These days we venerate the mediocre.
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!
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 