There’s archive footage in episode 2 of this Netflix doc when post-Simeone lash-out you see hundreds of demented West Ham United fans outside the Man Utd team bus before a match going apeshit and baying for a public hanging.
You see in these moments how pathetic the masses can be.
That’s the big take from this series, which is beguilingly directed by the ‘Indian’ bloke from Short Circuit (1986).
Johnny 5 is alive.
I’m sure this was about something, and that something was something other than surface sheen and pyrotechnics, but it wasn’t something that interested me in the slightest.
So I won’t be bothering with a review other than that of Kenneth Branagh’s Russian ‘accent’, which receives a 0/5 from me.
Bye for now.
I expected something abysmal but instead found Mark Margolis, David Keith (not to be confused with Keith David), Vondas from The Wire, Joey Pants, the hulking Michael Clarke Duncan, and a possessed Colin Farrell having the time of his life, seemingly (“I want a bloody costume”). A colourful cast, folk that can act. Despite the unwatchable Jon Favreau (he is awful in everything), it’s not bad at all.
I was terribly entertained, and a sequel would have been at least pleasant. The movie has the standard silly one-liners and inevitable awkward attempts at comedy, but it’s suitably grim and grimy, and the story has some basis in a believable reality. I was also borderline shocked to see how much of this movie was appropriated for Batman Begins (2005), and the ending lifted verbatim.
Affleck is also fine in it. And the music is banging.
#WakeMeUpInside.
This movie is beyond masterpiece. Exquisite in all ways. It shows how awful, petty, cruel and overbearingly nasty folk are when they’re in a system built on dogma which makes no sense … it’s essentially communism in your nutshell. Imagine having to live within this horrid wee cocoon environment?
Anyway, big kudos to the hero who makes up shit and at the end of it all gets a wee book dedicated to him. Top lad.
And Gabriel Yared should score everything in life. The opening of a door or the emptying of a bin (any bin). I’d watch that with his tunes. He engulfs the mundane with tragedy.
A behemoth chimp with an affinity for sign language. It wouldn’t be the first time for such a revelation – Koko.
It’s quite average in a pleasing fashion compared with most of the shite you see from these Multiverse/Monsterverse/Whatever worlds. What remains is the excruciating dialogue.
A non-character/cardboard hiree offers an observation regarding a life-changing vignette and a lad (usually a lad) retorts by saying the glaringly obvious.
It goes like this:
“It’s an easy mission, a kid could do it.”
“I hate kids.”
That’s the nature of these loopy exchanges, the gems from the writing room. There is no reason for anyone to spiel stuff like this, but they still do. It’s all confusing.
Just have folk in these flicks not speak, and present them reacting all flummoxed to stomping monsters merely through facial tics.
Good stuff in it: the voice of Lance Reddick (beautiful), and a monkey fighting a lizard on an aircraft carrier was absolutely insane in its realisation.
Is that it?
Watch it for 45 mins and then have a nap.
You won’t remember this film.
Crimson Tide (1995) is fucking amazing, and it’s not just for the extended screaming stand-off between Gene and Denzel. It’s a film about an issue, a rather big issue, yet is shot with such electricity, edited and paced as good as any action-thriller, and with a Hans Zimmer score sounding like it was composed when he was conducting an esoteric shite. Even the intermittent pop culture references, weird as they are, kind of work, a way to relieve the unbearable tension.
You have five heart attacks watching this movie.
I didn’t mind it at all, and just watched it for the daftness and the epic tunes.
I’m not going to read much into a movie about dolls. I got the the whole intention of the male/female power-dynamic/divide or whatever. It’s nothing I’ve ever thought about. Or cared to. Or ever will in this moment of time.
Never seen a Barbie or Ken doll in my life, never wanted one, and have no interest in these creations.
I’m sure there is a massive yet subtle subtext to everything in this film, but I’ll leave that to the ‘professionals’.
It was entertaining. It has made a billion. Is that how easy it is? Movie about Bagpuss next. I want to see Bagpuss on a cocaine binge that Jordan Belfort would clap at.
Meow.
And ‘Barbie Girl’, THE tune of the ’90s, made an ‘appearance’. In a way ….
Talk about the transcendental. In its artistry and superior articulation of its themes, this really did remind me of the works of Yasujirō Ozu, and Toyko Story (1953) in particular.
It’s also a devastating watch and not something you’d stick on every year as it’s too accurate, too affecting, too profound. The ending is as haunting as anything I’ve seen.
It’s ranked 5th in Sight & Sound’s “Greatest Films of All Time” critics’ poll.
They’re not wrong.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 