Upon coming home from watching Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World my housemate, colleague and (if he had the correct genitalia) would-be lover Joe succinctly and eloquently summed up the film thus; “Visually the film is stunning. 10 out of 10 for the look. 5 star quality, fight choreography. The problem is…Scott Pilgrim is a film for wankers.”
This Bob-omb shell left me a little shook up. My diminutive friend’s opinion is usually bang on the money leaving me with a lose-lose situation. When watching Edgar Wright’s latest I’ll either be faced with the crushing disappointment of a film I’ve been looking forward to for a long time being a bit shit, or in the eyes of my good buddy I’ll be, “a wanker”.
This weekend sees the release of action spectacular The Expendables. Truth be told it’s a more than adequate, enjoyable, fun, balls to the wall action movie. But nestling in that, rather high praise for Sly and co’s latest, is a derogatory word. Movie. Not film, movie. Action has been, and always will be, placed into the bracket of ‘movie-dom’ by people, well, people like me. Yet there are examples of pulse-racing, sweat producing, explosion-exploding films that have every right to be put on a par with their dramatic counterparts.
Debates of what constitute a ‘film’ rather than a ‘movie’ (basically anything that a pretentious wanker like me can stroke their oversized beard too) and action (over 13% of the running time must feature gunny bits, stabby bits or explodey bits) could run for days but instead let’s just got on with the list that in no way denigrates the awesomeness of Die Hard, Terminator, The Bourne Films, Indy, etc. These are just my pick of action films with a little more…
And now, because it’s been a while, a quote from the Gospel of Hicks according to Owen. And yay Hicks did say, “I’ve noticed a certain anti-intellectualism going around this country; since about 1980, oddly enough…” and lo the people did realise that the 80′s sucked.
Sadly the people in Hollywood didn’t realise because the wave of nostalgia flooding through the projectors for that most decadent of decades is enough to make MC Hammer choke on his parachute pants. The A-Team, Karate Kid, Expendables, Predators, Hot Tub Time Machine, Pirahna, every single one churned out like a Soda Stream with no consideration of whether anybody wanted any of it.
I love you. I also love KFC. But this isn’t about my easy gratitude to readers of this site for giving me affirmation on my life or the amazing Colonel and his wonderful chicken, grease, salt combination, this is about the UK Film Council and it’s sad, premature demise.
Some of you may not know what the UKFC does. Some of you may know but not care. Some will be glad to see the back of, what some considered, an overly bureaucratic way of making movies. Some will already know and care deeply enough to have joined the Save The UKFC site) and filled in the petition.
For those that do not know, I’ll try to explain. For those that don’t care, I’ll try and persuade you that you should. For those glad it’s gone, maybe I can flip your opinion. For those signed up, well I’m preaching to the choir. But I do like to preach.
In a few months Facebook: The Movie hits cinemas. Now this sounds about as wank an idea as Robbie Williams replacing Noel in Oasis, but bear with us. Firstly it’s not called Facebook: The Movie but the much better sounding The Social Network based on the book by Ben Mezrich. Secondly it’s not about Facebook but rather the creation of Facebook and the surprisingly interesting tale of friends suing each other over who owns the rights and ultimately hating each others guts. Most noteworthy of all, it’s the new movie from David ‘Se7en, Fight Club, Zodiac‘ Fincher.
It’s also being scored by Nine Inch Nail‘s Trent Reznor and the trailer (which you can click on and watch above) features a Scala reworking of ‘Creep’ by Radiohead. Instead of tiredly listing rubbish wordplay based on Facebook vernacular, i.e. Owen ‘likes’ new Fincher movie, updating status to ‘chuffing excited’ or I’d like to ‘poke’ Justin Timberlake in the eye with something sharp, instead let’s use this as an excuse to look back on Radiohead’s back catalogue, as featured on the silver screen.
This Friday sees the release of the real would-be-sequel of Predator. We thought we’d have a look to see where the original stars have ended up. It would appear they’re all in one place. From the Predator Jungle to the Political one. Here’s a rundown of how the original Predator was a breeding ground for politics.
Arnold Schwarzenegger – (Republican)
The most famous star in both film and politics, The Governator first ran for election for the Governorship of California in 2003 in a (total) recall election. Winning the remainder of then Governor Gray Davis’s term (inator) Arnie was re-elected in 2006 for a full-term.
This year could see the Austrian Oak run for the United States Senate. The Presidency, however, is one step too far. Having not been born in the US of A, he is inelligable to run…unless he makes them change the constitution. If anyone could.
We’re all very lucky. We live in a world brimming with lovely tits. All the shapes, sizes and shades imaginable exist somewhere in the glorious diversity that is the human genome. Viva la boobie! Whilst I’m of the opinion that all tits should be celebrated on merit of their existence alone (imagining the immense evolutionary chain stretching back over the eons from simple milk dispensing teats, through sexual and natural selection to form the modern homosapien mammary is the closest I’ve come to “know the mind of god” (:Hawking: “A brief history of time”.) There are of course notable exceptions that require special appreciation. Which leads me to the main point of this essay, the tip top, or top tips if you will. Pam Grier’s.
I can see in my mind’s eye, your brain racing, synapses firing full throttle trying to think of a superior pair and maybe you can. Or at least you think you can. I intend to prove you wrong.
It’s easy to knock Noel Clarke. The first reason, being the bright young thing of the UK film scene, he most probably has Danny Dyer’s mobile number on speed dial having starred with the feckless wonder on two occasions. Secondly, walking amoebas like Peter Andre cite him as “a hero”. Thirdly he won the Orange Rising Star BAFTA, sandwiched between unworthy victors Shia The Beef and Kristen Stewart.
So it’d be easy to knock Noel Clarke. Easy, but wrong. Look beneath the rather attractive surface and he’s actually the definition of a grafter. The youngest looking 35-year-old on God’s green Earth he has the whiff of a meteroic rise about him even if the facts speak otherwise. Stints in British shit TV staples such as Casualty, The Bill and even Doctors litter his early career until he pulled himself a Good Will Hunting and decided to write a film based on his life experiences. Success, both financial and critical, swiftly followed.
Kidulthood will have it’s detractors. It featured “Nah wat I mean bruv?” dialogue that usually ushers a reply of “Well not really my dear” from anyone outside of London who wasn’t talk to speak English via SMS and it featured the kind of dramatic teenage years that even Skins script-writers may consider a tad far-fetched. It was, if nothing else, refreshingly different.
In 2004, Ben Mack put together a website entitled WhatWouldBillHicksSay.com. The idea was that fans would post their thoughts on Bill’s take on current events. It received over half a million hits.
The idea itself was met with a certain degree of cynicism, the main argument being, “Who the fuck are you to put words in Hick’s mouth?”. I agreed. What kind of a self-important, arrogant dick thinks he knows what a dead man thinks?
So I wrote my own piece. Because I’m a self-important, arrogant dick. But one that hopes you enjoy these words…
WHAT WOULD BILL HICKS SAY? MONOLOGUE FOR STAGE
A large framed man, 33, dressed in a bright white trench-coat, bright white jeans and bright white cowboy hat emerges into a spotlight. This is the late BILL HICKS.
He stands on a vast open stage. A single bar stool sits next to a table with a glass of water on it. He walks over takes a sip of the drink and places his hat next to it.
BILL
“I used to be a comic. I used to be a dark little poet. I used to be a preacher. I used to be a blowtorch, an excavator, a soothsayer some would say. Richard Pryor said I was a dangerous and brave truth teller. He told me that again yesterday. That kinda thing could give a man an ego. Here, I’m just another douchebag with some opinions.”
Every so often you’ll turn on the TV and see some actor bitching about how they’ve been type cast or how Tom Hanks steals all the good roles. Ninety eight percent of the time this actor is not very good. The other two percent of the time you’ll be watching an interview with Gary Sinise. Even now, when movie stars seem to be ten a penny, there are very few true renaissance men. Woody Harrelson is one such man.
