Never forget what I told ya...

Which is a lyric from 'The Diamond Curch Street Choir' by The Gaslight Anthem on their album 'American Slang'. Last night, myself and my compadre Coates went to see the Anthem at Brixton Academy, which was the reason for a day of confusing ups and irritating downs. Really, odd day all around. Let's see if I can summarise how it all went a little.

Downs:
- The coach was nearly an hour late getting there (Greyhound SUCK)
- London was sweltering hot
- The price of a pint of coke in Camden is ridiculous
- The small rip in my jeans progressed across the day to go from the crotch all the way down to the knee
- The little pasta pot I bought at Asda in the morning didn't have a little plastic fork to go with it
- The coach going back wasn't at Victoria Coach Station (Greyhound still SUCK)

Ups:
- We got to walk around Buckingham Palace and St. James Park
- I found a second hand omnibus of the work of H.G. Wells in Camden Market for only £4, which was awesome
- I brought a spare shirt for the day because I figured I'd spill something on my white one, but ended up using it as a sort of apron to cover up the rip in my jeans
- The heat makes women wear less... whooo...

Of course, the one thing that completely tops the day was the fact that the Gaslight Anthem were unbelievably AWEsome. They played a kick-ass show with some serious passion. They were channelling some real Springsteen with this one and the crowd were loving it. I had to leave the front press after Diamond Street Church Choir because it was just so hectic, more intense than Sabaton, which is saying something! After that I enjoyed them from a variety of angles and distances, the Academy is a well thought out venue, I like it, even if it is £2.60 for a pint of coke. Oooooh, not at the Fat Cat, sir, not at the Fat Cat...

So yeah, it was a weird day, I knew this from the moment we stepped off the coach (half an hour late and in the wrong place), just had that feeling, but it was all worth it in the end.

In other news, my housemates are now both officially moved out (with an interesting set of escapades involving keys, of all things), so I am now alone at home. Well, until Dad arrives.

BROOKLYN'S FINEST.

This was a film I was quite interested in and managed to drag Marsh to at the last minute to catch an advanced screening at Vue in newbury, just before I left. Interestingly, it was also the first film of June... and this is the last post of June... which means I'm catching up to myself. Anyway, on about the film.

This is the first Fuqua film I've heard of in a while, the man has been laying low since the massive let down that was King Arthur. I think he was trying to recapture the mind-blowing greatness that was Training Day (which also starred Ethan Hawke) by going back to corrupt cops and the hateful world they live in.

It worked... but it just wasn't as good.

Don't get me wrong, I really liked this movie, it has excessive grit, great characters, moral dilemmas aplenty and very good acting... but it's not Training Day and I think that's what he was going for. You should never really judge a film compared to another by the same director, but unfortunately Training Day is the benchmark that Brooklyn's Finest has to live up to, so judged it will be.

Multi-protagonist dramas are always a little hard to pull off, especially if you minimalise the contact between all the characters, as they did in this particular film (there were precisely three scenes where they crossed over, one Hawke/Gere, one Cheadle/Gere and one Hawke/Cheadle, in that order) and in two of them they didn't even speak to each other. That being said, this film's heaviest point are the characters.

Hawke, Gere and Cheadle all give great performances, they're very believable in their roles and supported by a cool ensemble to make them more rounded.

In conclusion, I'd recommend this film to people who like gritty cop dramas, but not to someone who was looking to get into gritty cop dramas. That's still Training Day.

Next time: BAD LIEUTENANT

Residence Evil

Okay, that was a pretty lame title, but I've had very little sleep over the last week and I couldn't really think of anything better. From friday through to sunday, I've had three van days, where me and my dad and a whole bunch of furniture have resided solidly in a van, with some service stations in between.

So, with the flat in newbury now completely empty of all furniture, with some of it driven all the way up to Scotland and then the rest of it down here, with some in storage and some in my living room corner... I am no logner an official resident of newbury. That feels like a big deal to me, for some reason.

I've resided in newbury since I was about six months old, I believe. My parents moved from swindon when I was at that age and I've lived there ever since. Even when I went to university in bedford and now down in southampton, I was still technically on a housing list in newbury somewhere. That's twenty five years of my life in that town and now... now I have no official residence down there anymore. I am free of it, I am now a 'sotonian' (although I don't care for that term, I think it should be 'southamptonite'). There is a chance I'll return there if this Vodafone Graduate Scheme works out of me, but for the moment, I'm no longer technically associated with newbury anymore.

Kinda sad.

Anyway, I've been having a weird time of it as it is, what with fresh bailiff notices, missing housemate keys and now plans for the new kitchen taking form in various minds... it's all just getting on top of me a little. I need to lie down and watch some Supernatural in my pyjamas. Yes, that's a plan.

PRINCE OF PERSIA.

Now... this was a film I wasn't fussed about seeing, but for some reason cropped up and seemed like a half decent idea the day after Robin Hood last month. So the gorup saddled up and headed down to view the swords and sandels. This is an adaptation of 'Sands of Time', the most popular Prince of Persia game and features it's powerful theme and story. The result?

A resounding 'meh'.

Don't get me wrong, it's pretty, it's flashy, there are some great action sequences... but there's just not enough meat on the bones of the story, it's all style and not much substence

Some of the acting was pretty good, Gyllenhall was okay but nothing special, Ben Kingsley is always a pleasure to watch and Richard Coyle was a genuine surprise to see. Molina, wha-hey.

Of course, the latest talentless vacuum of personality that every utterly thick male on the planet thinks is hot, Gemma Arteton, was about as convincing in her performance as I was at being an interested memeber of the audiance. It's bloody Megan Fox syndrome all over again. She's not hot, she's just well-formed. Actual hotness requires a glint in the eye symbolising life and more commonly known as a 'soul', which I'm not convinced either of these 'women' possess.

The problem I had with this movie was that it felt entirely like a Jerry Bruckheimer movie... which is playing it safe while trying to make it look like it wasn't. That's what Bruckheimer does, he plays it safe, hence why he could probably by a piece of Denmark if he wanted to.

The order of Assassins were pretty poor, the script felt like it had been changed halfway through in order to make a different person into the bad guy and there most certainly wasn't enough of the old runny-jumpy-climby. It was a visually good movie, but that was about it. Enough said.

Next Time: BROOKLYN'S FINEST

The Spoils of War (or Moving)

As if I hadn't done enough moving house. I've been doing it roughly once a year for the past three, but this promises to be the last for a good long while. It had better be, at any rate, because if I have to get in a car with a whole load of boxes one more time I'm going to snap and assume the foetal position while frothing at the mouth and gibbering quietly to myself.

They say that moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do, but that's mainly to do with the buying and selling process, as oppose to the carting around of furniture that may or not have a home (unless you employ Pickfords, of course, that'll always ramp up the stress). For me, however, I'm never really around in the buying and selling stage, just the furniture.

This coming weekend is going to be a fun one, me and my Dad have to get in a van on Friday for the TWELVE HOUR drive up to St. Andrews in Scotland from Newbury way down south. We then unload, get some sleep and drive back down about TWELVE HOURS. Then we load the van AGAIN and head for Southampton.

So I'm inheriting a whole bunch of ladder racks, odd shaped glasses, a few stuffed beagles and probably some kitchen stuff from this flat, which we haven't had for all that long. That was the point of the title, as it was, I'm getting stuff. Whoop. Spoils of Moving and all that jazz. Okay it wasn't a good title.

I should point out that this blog post has been co-authored by my mother, without her realising it. Credit where credit is due, after all.

So...

ROBIN HOOD.

I wasn't very excited about this movie. It kind of promised to be Gladiator 2, after it went about reuniting SIR Ridley Scott and Russel Crowe in a sword-tastic setting. This time it was, of course, Medieval England rather than Ancient Rome. Now, while I'm contractually obliged to go and see any film that SIR Ridley even thought about looking at, I thought that this film might actually be a step too far. After all, nobody really liked Kingdom of Heaven, since it was a film that was designed at the genetic level to appeal to me and only me.

Safe to say, I don't think of Robin Hood as Gladiator 2. This film is far more Kingdom of Heaven 2. In fact, I think it's actually Kingdom of Heaven 3, he hasn't got round to number 2 yet. Since K.o.H. covered Salah al-Din's conquering of Jerusalem and the defence of Balian, ending with Richard The Lionheart en-route to the Holy Land to kick some ass and take some names, Robin Hood opens with Richard on his way home and his death in France. Some of his rather more rogueish soldiers make a break for it and head back to England in someone else's clothes.

Now, after this we have a somewhat complicated view of Medieval English politics (with a storming portrayal of Elanor of Acquitaine), a sub-plot about the Magna Carter and a sneak invasion by the ol' enemy, France.

All in all, this is quite a muddled film with too many elements all competing for attention, all the while having this guy called Robin wanderng around, WHO ISN'T ROBIN HOOD. This isn't a film about Robin Hood, it's a film before Robin Hood.

What I did love about this film were the actors, the portrayal of historical characters and the overall *feel* of it. This is a film that I, personally, have been waiting for for what feels like a long time. The history is incorrect in most places, but the soul of it is correct. No, there wasn't a French invasion at that time, but it fits the mood of it and Philip of France is a great character. No, Richard wasn't trying to get back to England, he lived full time in France and spoke no English at all, but Danny Huston was bloody good as the tired and worn down king. Man of the movie is split between Kevin 'I have no need of this horse!' Durand's Little John and the villianous Mark Strong. Max von Sydow, as always, grabs your attention, holds it by the neck and *makes* you respect him while Crowe and Blanchett do okay and Oscar Isaac's King John is simply frog-bitingly wonderful.

So moments of greatness swamped by myriad sub-plots, basically. Don't go in expecting a film about Robin Hood, because you won't get it. It seems that SIR Ridley has a thing about the Lionheart and the Third Crusade... so I know who to send my 'Servants of God' script off to when it's done...

Next Time: PRINCE OF PERSIA

Puppy!!

I don't get to see my mother often these days, she spends most of her time up in Scotland and I'm down in Southampton, so we couldn't really be any further apart. So whenever I get to see my mother, I always find myself a little guilty in that, while I'm always happy to see her, there's always someone with her that I get rather goofy and childish over.

I am of course referring to 'wee Basil', the adorable little beagle hound that spends all of his time following my mother around, being ridiculously cute and cowering at... well, anything. He's not the greatest nerve I've ever met, but he's certainly one of the most gentle souls I know. He's about three and a half now, but he's still simply *tiny*.

I've always, always, always been a dog person. I genuinely believe them to be better than humans, they are most essential to my sanity and I wouldn't have it any other way.

So while I'm still in newbury for the next week, I shall be cohabiting with the wee one, who is looking blankly at me from the end of my bed as I type this. Silly pup.

It was Cat Stevens (or Yusuf Islam, as I believe he likes to be called these days) that wrote a song entitled 'I Love My Dog'. He was a wise man, even if he couldn't decide on what to call himself. I think it goes something like this, if you'll imagine a simple guitar tune backing.

I Love My Dog,
as much as I Love You,
because I know my Dog,
will always be true.

And you know, more.

HOT TUB TIME MACHINE

If Four Lions of last week's review was an ideal comedy, something based in the real as oppose to the surreal, this is a very bad comedy. Overhaul, the film isn't all *that* bad, it's simply uninspiring, a right mess and rather predictable. There are some genuinely funny lines in there, playing on 80's fandom and how ridiculous it can be.

Basically, this is a pretty poor movie overall, and the main culprit is in fact the writing. First off, it failed to ascertain exactly what had happened the first time round in Winterfest '86. Without a map of what 'should have' happened, what 'actually' happened is a lot less important. Events seemed to be tacked on as an afterthought.

Second, the character of Jacob had no real place in the movie. He wasn't alive for '86, so why should he go back there? Third, very cheap humour in places. Fourth, the end. Now, I'm not one for talking spoilers, so let's just say that the end... turns out I can't do it without, so if you don't want any spoilers about the movie, that's all I can say other than the end was very unsatisfying for me.

I'll admit, this wasn't my first choice of film to go see, I pretty much only went to see it because I wanted to hang out with at least one of my newbury friends on my previous visit and Ade had already seen Robin Hood (earlier that day, it happens), so it was this or nought. I thought that this would be the last film I saw in May, but turns out I was wrong. As it stands, just one thing... Do you really need work this much John Cusack?! You're one of the best, the nerdiet, the weridest comedy actors there is, what were you thinking when you signed up for this?!?!?

Next Time: ROBIN HOOD.



*SPOILERS*

Basically, it gives them everything on a plate. Our heroes, after returning from 1986 discover that the guy they left behind, Lou, has remoddled the future to make sure that they're all rich, successful and happy. But it just feels so damn hollow. They haven't had to do anything to earn it, so it's worthless. It's just delivered to them and 'wham', that's it. A far better ending would have been to give the characters the perspective to know *how* to change their lives... then give the opportunity to go for it, no matter how risky it might be. This ending was too safe, too pansy, basically. Very, very disappointing. Nice gag about Motley Lou, however.

Stress

My mother has always said about me that 'if he were any more laid back, he'd be horizontal'. Most of the time, this is completely true, I couldn't give a flying monkey's is there were odd goings on, I keep my calm around me in most situations and I value above all other virtues the ability to chill no matter the situation. At the moment, I'm finding that rather difficult.

As I alluded to in my previous post, my fniancial situation has just become less favourable. Now, it's my dad that's recieved the short end of the stick, definately, but since he's still secure and will be forever more, it's more me that I'm worried about. My contniued faliure to make something of myself, have a reasonable career or win the lottery... I still rely on him a great deal.

Obviously, I should be on my own, I should be fully capable of standing on my own two feet by now, I'm twenty six after all. But I'm just not.

Problem is that I don't really have an excuse. I could be working in a bank or in an office, for which I'd have to hand in my soul and wear a tie.

But I don't.

I should be trying to work hard and make something of myself, but... I can't give a flying toss. Why should I? What's the point? I've got one thing I want to do and I doubt I'll be able to do it. I'll give it an honest go, but I'm not expecting miracles. I think I've said this all before, but basically I'm screwed and it's pretty much my own fault. Ah well.

FOUR LIONS.

Four Lions is, without doubt, the best film I've seen this year. I don't know if there'll be a film to match it. It's one of the two films I've seen twice this year, the other being Iron Man 2. It's so brilliant that I barely have words for it.

Basically, Four Lions (a slightly deceptive title) follows the exploits of five comedically inept suicide bombers in Sheffield. That's it. That's all there is to it. It's one of the most simple and yet compelling movies I've seen so far.

Most comedies don't really do much for me, they're pretty and they're funny and they've got some decent lines, but I'll forget them within a week and then we'll be back to gritty films with dirty cops or the end of the world or something. But this one really struck a chord because it's properly topical.

The writing is hilarious, the acting is not only masterfully improvised in some places but joyous to watch, the story itself is so wonderfully absurd that it almost couldn't happen, but you know that somewhere it could. That's the best comedy, to me, from the real, not the surreal.

Basically, there's not much I can say. This film is a triumph of humour, political awareness, British talent. If you're a Brit, you have a duty, folks. Go see. Or probably now wait for the DVD, but hey, it's all good. I should mention that the second time I went to see it was with Ad and we saw a live satellite interview with Chris Morris (the increasinly disturbed creator) and the cast, which was absolutely hilarious. Not often do I indulge in such strange little activities, but for this film, most definately.

Next time: HOT TUB TIME MACHINE

Insecure Future

So I have just discovered that my father has been made redundant by his company. This is not as bad news as it sounds, since he was planning on retiring from the private sector next year anyway (and panning on going to the ultra-private sector of contractor work if he decides he needs some extra spending money) and his redundancy package pretty much covers what he was looking at earning from them as it was. This sort makes it all 'equal out' in the grander scheme of things, but...

I can't quite shake a niggling feeling of worry. My dad will essentially be retired. He has consistantly been the source of all income in this family and I've relied on him financially beyond all reasonable expectation for my entire life. So now he's retiring and that big security blanket is kind of receding. It may be a late revelation (and one I kinda knew already) but I really am going to have to fend for myself pretty soon. If not right now. The problem is a simple one:

Not sure that I can.

I've got very little work drive when it comes to the actual world of shitty day-to-day employment, I've got unrealistic expectations about my lifestyle and I have absolutely no idea how I'm ever, ever going to pay him back for any of the money he's probably going to be relying on in the future.

This world, basically, is a completley non-fun one when you get down to it. We go to work (which with this recession is becoming less and less likely with every passing day), we probably hate what we do, we come home, pretend to be something else on the internet and then we get ready to do it all again.

What's the fucking point?

Why do we live like this?

We don't really have any other choice. There's no revolution, there's no other way for us. Any other country in the world is pretty much just as rubbish, only with a higher percentage of being murdered (I promise, no jokes about the Cumbria Shootings, no matter how tempting they might be). But then there's all the 'you can do whatever you want to do' and 'be positive' talking going on, we apparantly have to look at the bright side of things in this increasinly rubbish brown/grey world we live in. Thing is, all the things that I'd actually want to do? Pretty inaccessible, since most other people I know want to do them as well. How many jobs for television writers are there, and just how many hundreds of thousands of people want to fill them? What are my chances? That doesn't mean I shouldn't go for it, which I will endevour to do... but it does mean I have to look at the realism of it all and consider what I'm actually going to do with myself while waiting for that miraculous call from the BBC.

Barwork?

Teaching?

I don't know. It's a scary realisation, but the WORLD IS CRAP. And we have to live there. I just wish it were slightly less crap, but then if wishes were horses then we'd all be eating steak (to quote Firefly).

All in all... we just need to find something that we can do, something that'll pay the bills and something that we can use to distract ourselves from the grey monotomy that we are forced to live in. Go us.

Anyway:

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET.

I went into this movie hoping that with the recent wave of horror remakes (most of which I haven't seen, but some of which actually peaked my interest), this film would be halfway decent. Friday 13th was decent, it was fun and not all that demanding, but probably could have been better. Last House on the Left was my Film Of The Year 2009 before District 9 showed up and pointed out it was the best film ever.

But lo, the magic didn't strike again. This was a pretty bland film in my admittedly not-all-that-geared-up-for-horror opinion. I found the characters to be pretty uninteresting, the setting to be under developed and the main thing that's supposed to make horror films interesting (suspense) to be kinda pissed away pretty early on in the narrative.

As Mark Blake taught us (overly handsome, funny and intelligent man that he is), showing us the bad guy makes him less scary. In this film, you get to see ol' Freddy Kreugar (more on him in a sec) within the first sequence of the movie. Kinda early, if you ask me, a lot could have been done to postpone his entrance or coneal his face or anything... just to make it look like the director knew what he was doing. Which he didn't.

However... Freddy.

Freddy in this film is depicted by Jackie Earle Hayley, who might actually BE the best thing since sliced bread. This man of very odd appearence is a bottomless pit of talent, he reeks of anything he wants to, be it fear, awe, sickening hatred or spooky innocence. He is the single best thing about this movie and I cannot believe that the writers and director let him down as badly as they did by giving him this utterly bland platform from which to establish himself as the new face of one of horror's defining villians.

Even though it's a remake, this film feels like it's shamelessly ripping off the original (which just feels odd to watch). I quite liked the first outing of Freddy, way back when Dave got me to watch it one night, huddled on a sofe with a sleeping bag many, many years ago. So to see some of the classic set pieces (the claw in the bath, the bodybag being dragged by nobody...) get used again kinda feels like it's cheapening them.

All in all, this film didn't have anything going for it apart from the awesomeness that is J.E.H. (the power of three first names is with him).

Next: FOUR LIONS