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.
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.
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.
“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.”
Bill paces and looks around.
This Sunday sees the annual ‘We Love America More Than Ourselves’ Awards for outstanding contributions to the world of cinema. Or the Baftas for short.
In honour of this wonderfully British mentality of putting ourselves in second place (see also the Brits) here’s a fun game for all the family to play come the 21st of February.
Not only is Morgan Freeman possibly the greatest living actor, he’s also a very cool cat. How cool? With these easy to digest snippets of information, that I’ll bestow upon you now, you can put them into a coolness calculator and find out.
He’s approved by Nelson Mandela!
At a press conference to promote Mendela’s memoir, Long Walk to Freedom, someone asked Mandela who should play him in the movie. “And he said he wanted me,” says Freeman. Endorsement given, Invictus filmed.
Two unbelievable things have happened in Hollywood of late. Neither of them have anything to do with giant blue cat people from Pandora that give me the horn.
First, Sandra Bullock became the first actress to have a film reach $200 million at the box office based on her name alone (The Blind Side, the first female to do so. Second, and as recently as this weekend, Kathryn Bigelow became the first female to win the prestigious Directors Guild of America award for Outstanding Directorial Effort In Feature Film.
Is this the glass ceiling of Hollywood being broken? Don’t bet on it.
There’s a real danger in this article of me coming off like a deranged Daily Mail reader, shaking in fear that film and music and video games are not only responsible for the brokenness of Britain, global warming, the failing economy but also every war raged from WWII onwards. (Just look at ‘Call Of Duty’, surely the Reich took inspiration from this?!?!).
But that isn’t the intention. If anything, I strongly believe that film can used as an educational tool. Not in a ‘Triumph Of The Will’ propoganda, way but in the same way that novels are used to open dialogues about morals and ethics. But as I sit projecting the latest ‘Terminator’ film to children, who can only be described as knee high to a grasshopper, I start to think this 12A thing is getting out of control. (more…)
Well, it’s A question. I don’t know if it’s THE question. But it is something that’s been playing on my, admittedly small and untroubled, mind of late. Is the future of cinema three dimensions? Will it affect the way stories are told? Is it just a ploy to curb piracy? There is no guarantee any of these questions will be answered in any way, shape or form but hey, what else are you gonna do for the next five minutes? Watch porn. You dirty, filthy buggers.
For those that don’t know, I work as a projectionist. I won’t say in which cinema as I’ll either be pestered for sexual intercourse all day by my many, many fans (just look at that picture top-left, Jewish chic, phwoar!) or, more likely, I’ll be lynched by some Dane Cook worshiper for calling him a talentless, unfunny, example of what is wrong with this world. And as a projectionist, 3-D scares the shit out of me, for the following reasons. (more…)
I’ve been working in my local multiplex for over five years now. You get less time in prison for killing a baby. That last sentence has nothing to do with anything really, because I love my job. I get to be around movies most days, rarely miss a good one and as a projectionist I get a whole auditorium to myself when I ‘print check’ (watch the movie, make sure it’s not damaged, make sure it’s in order). This ‘private cinema’, though, has its downsides. Every now and again I’ll watch a film with ‘you people’, the general public. What a bunch of noisy, retarded fuckwits you are.
I’m not on a crusade to drum up cinema business, but to quote the advert, for me, it really is the only place to watch a movie. No matter how big your plasma screen is, how much gold-plated cable your HD has connected to your sub woofer via your donkey flange, it’s no match for 24 frames of 35mm on a screen the height of three buses with wall-to-wall speakers. So, and I know this isn’t just for me, here is a guide to how to watch a film without annoying your fellow man and inspiring tendencies of a truly homicidal nature. (more…)