In short, this was a bit shit.
In slightly more words...
The movie opens with the standard disaster movie technique, the mysterious Exciting Incident.
You've not got a clue what's going on, so interest is piqued, what's going to happen next?
Unfortunately what happens next is another standard technique, the words "Fifteen Hours Earlier".
I want to see aliens trashing LA, not the chattering of rich, unsubstantial and above all tedious folk.
When the action does return to alien pillaging fun it's a messed up mix of Independence Day, The Matrix and War Of the Worlds, taking all of the best bits of the action but none of the charm of any of the characters.
I believe I saw a smile being cracked at one point, though possibly just a muscle spasm as a result of an alien death ray.
One of the stars was Donald Faison, Doctor Turk on Scrubs. I had far more fun imagining JD attempting to bond with an alien gribbley than actual watching the film.
It's a movie that has the look of a big budget. I'm all for curbing the excess of the Hollywood crap machine, but couldn't they have made a better film?
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Gordon Ramsay, pet lover
So Gordon Ramsay has written an open letter to his mother in law imploring her not to cut off contact with his family after a slight spat with her husband (he fired him).
Details here: http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23896008-dont-cut-off-my-family-gordon-ramsays-plea-to-mother-in-law-in-sacking-row.do
This is an early draft dictated via the new version of Dragon NaturallySpeaking, with built in profanity filter.
Dear Mother-in-law
Puppies.
Puppies you.
Puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, kittens, puppies you.
I apologise. Getting emotional here. I puppies mean it.
You are the greatest puppies mother in puppies law a puppies chef could ever puppies have.
For puppies sake, please, puppies, please, don't take the spat between myself and your shetland pony cute bunny husband out on your daughter and your four grandchildren.
Yours puppily,
Gordon Puppies Ramsay
PS: Your old man is a complete and utter total fluffy bunny piece of candy floss pie wrapped around a sack of useless rotting yellow ducklings
Details here: http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23896008-dont-cut-off-my-family-gordon-ramsays-plea-to-mother-in-law-in-sacking-row.do
This is an early draft dictated via the new version of Dragon NaturallySpeaking, with built in profanity filter.
Dear Mother-in-law
Puppies.
Puppies you.
Puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, kittens, puppies you.
I apologise. Getting emotional here. I puppies mean it.
You are the greatest puppies mother in puppies law a puppies chef could ever puppies have.
For puppies sake, please, puppies, please, don't take the spat between myself and your shetland pony cute bunny husband out on your daughter and your four grandchildren.
Yours puppily,
Gordon Puppies Ramsay
PS: Your old man is a complete and utter total fluffy bunny piece of candy floss pie wrapped around a sack of useless rotting yellow ducklings
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Her name was Lola
So I meet this cute girl called Lola.
Like the song, I say.
That's right. She smiles at me. And I'm a bit of a showgirl too.
I run through the lyrics in my head - the champagne that tastes like cherry cola, dancing in the club in old Soho, the squeeze so tight it nearly broke the spine.
Are we thinking of the same song, I say. You know, Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.
Her smile fades.
She says to me, The song about the transvestite you mean?
Like the song, I say.
That's right. She smiles at me. And I'm a bit of a showgirl too.
I run through the lyrics in my head - the champagne that tastes like cherry cola, dancing in the club in old Soho, the squeeze so tight it nearly broke the spine.
Are we thinking of the same song, I say. You know, Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.
Her smile fades.
She says to me, The song about the transvestite you mean?
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
A love story
There once was a beautiful young hand maiden to the Queen. With the face of an angel and a laugh that set fairies to dancing she caught the young prince's eye. But alas! He was a prince, and she a mere hand maiden; his love for her could never be.
Daily he would travel to the mountain lakes and leap naked into the icy water to cool his ardour. Unfortunately this caught the eye of a local farmer who sold the pictures to a sleazy newspaper. Soon the image of his pasty white body was all around the tiny kingdom, and he, a laughing stock. People stopped to point their fingers and laugh, and it didn't matter how much he protested that the lake was freezing, they would still snigger.
The King disowned the Prince - the laws on public nudity were very strict at the time. He was now a common man, just a serf, like the hand maiden. His love could be!
Before he left the castle he went down on one knee to her.
"I love you, with all of my soul. Come with me?"
And the girl with the face of an angel looked at him. Where once he had dressed in the finest of silks and his hair was sculpted with the smoothest of Brylcreems now he wore sack cloth and his hair was slicked back with cooking oil. He wasn't that good looking either.
She said to him, "So you're not a Prince anymore, and you're not rich. You don't have a fancy house, or a big horse, and I've seen the pictures. I think I'll stay here in the warm, if it's all the same to you."
Daily he would travel to the mountain lakes and leap naked into the icy water to cool his ardour. Unfortunately this caught the eye of a local farmer who sold the pictures to a sleazy newspaper. Soon the image of his pasty white body was all around the tiny kingdom, and he, a laughing stock. People stopped to point their fingers and laugh, and it didn't matter how much he protested that the lake was freezing, they would still snigger.
The King disowned the Prince - the laws on public nudity were very strict at the time. He was now a common man, just a serf, like the hand maiden. His love could be!
Before he left the castle he went down on one knee to her.
"I love you, with all of my soul. Come with me?"
And the girl with the face of an angel looked at him. Where once he had dressed in the finest of silks and his hair was sculpted with the smoothest of Brylcreems now he wore sack cloth and his hair was slicked back with cooking oil. He wasn't that good looking either.
She said to him, "So you're not a Prince anymore, and you're not rich. You don't have a fancy house, or a big horse, and I've seen the pictures. I think I'll stay here in the warm, if it's all the same to you."
Monday, 20 September 2010
Got wood?
This year my home folly is having a wood burning stove fitted. Not because I care about the environment. Not to save money, or even for the cosy glow that only real flames can give you.
It's because I like to burn things.
Wood mainly, and possibly a Euro 2012 wall chart when England get knocked out in the quarter finals.
Today it was the joy of quotes from installers. An endless parade of air sucked through teeth, of hushed mutterings about "building regs", of opinions delivered in a firm voice that totally contradicted what the previous guy had to say.
One guy made a great play about having to use scaffolding to get up the two storeys to the roof.
Another guy was blase about it - "just a ladder job mate".
Someone else is coming this afternoon - I'm guessing he'll favour some kind of circus based trampoline system to get up there.
I've set aside the whole of tomorrow morning to have a good mull.
And then I'll pick the lowest quote.
It's because I like to burn things.
Wood mainly, and possibly a Euro 2012 wall chart when England get knocked out in the quarter finals.
Today it was the joy of quotes from installers. An endless parade of air sucked through teeth, of hushed mutterings about "building regs", of opinions delivered in a firm voice that totally contradicted what the previous guy had to say.
- You have to insulate your flue mate
- You don't have to insulate.
- You HAVE to have a liner mate
- I ALWAYS fit a liner, even though you don't have to
- I recommend a liner
- Fuck lining your chimney. You got a baby's bedroom mate? I'll just vent the stove into that
One guy made a great play about having to use scaffolding to get up the two storeys to the roof.
Another guy was blase about it - "just a ladder job mate".
Someone else is coming this afternoon - I'm guessing he'll favour some kind of circus based trampoline system to get up there.
I've set aside the whole of tomorrow morning to have a good mull.
- Which guy made the most sense?
- Who seemed the most knowledgeable?
- Do I go with the young and dynamic but slightly wide boy, or the more solid older guy?
And then I'll pick the lowest quote.
Saturday, 11 September 2010
Out for a run
"Oy! You!"
The cry went from the yellow Saxo.
"Yeah, you. You run like a Springer Spaniel!"
It was already pulling away, so time only to smile and give a thumbs up.
The car slowed.
"Like a Spaniel with its legs broke!"
The mocking sound of tyres screeching as it sped away.
But he showed them how he ran, and he only fell over once before he caught them at the lights.
Then they showed him how they could open all four doors simulataneously when someone shouts, "Hey, dickheads!"
They showed him how well they could loom.
They all watched him for a while, before agreeing he had more the lolloping gait of a Golden Retriever about him.
The cry went from the yellow Saxo.
"Yeah, you. You run like a Springer Spaniel!"
It was already pulling away, so time only to smile and give a thumbs up.
The car slowed.
"Like a Spaniel with its legs broke!"
The mocking sound of tyres screeching as it sped away.
But he showed them how he ran, and he only fell over once before he caught them at the lights.
Then they showed him how they could open all four doors simulataneously when someone shouts, "Hey, dickheads!"
They showed him how well they could loom.
They all watched him for a while, before agreeing he had more the lolloping gait of a Golden Retriever about him.
Friday, 10 September 2010
I like fish
So I'm in Tesco and this guy who sort of looks like a guy I went to school with is on the fresh fish counter.
What do I do?
Where once we were equals now here I am filling my trolley with fresh olives and parma ham, and he goes home smelling of haddock.
Should I roll on over there and just pretend like I don't recognise him?
Fifth time around, and this could be a little awkward.
I could just roll on by, but I really want some Swordfish loin, and God, I've not had any dressed crab for two days.
Three circuits of the store later I come up with my genius plan - he's a jobbing actor. He's making his way to the top by taking any old crappy job in between acting gigs. This isn't a dead end, it's a mere stepping stone to a brighter life.
Full of gay abandon I march back to the fish counter, only Possibly Stuart is gone. There's some old lady serving there now, and that's okay - she's on the wind down path of her career, pulling a few shifts to buy Christmas presents for the grand kids.
Making a mental note to not say this kind of thing out loud I pick my fish up from the floor and head for the checkout.
It's a lovely sunny day. Birds are singing, and I have seared yellow fin tuna for tea.
In the car park Could Be Colin is collecting the trolleys.
What do I do?
Where once we were equals now here I am filling my trolley with fresh olives and parma ham, and he goes home smelling of haddock.
Should I roll on over there and just pretend like I don't recognise him?
Fifth time around, and this could be a little awkward.
I could just roll on by, but I really want some Swordfish loin, and God, I've not had any dressed crab for two days.
Three circuits of the store later I come up with my genius plan - he's a jobbing actor. He's making his way to the top by taking any old crappy job in between acting gigs. This isn't a dead end, it's a mere stepping stone to a brighter life.
Full of gay abandon I march back to the fish counter, only Possibly Stuart is gone. There's some old lady serving there now, and that's okay - she's on the wind down path of her career, pulling a few shifts to buy Christmas presents for the grand kids.
Making a mental note to not say this kind of thing out loud I pick my fish up from the floor and head for the checkout.
It's a lovely sunny day. Birds are singing, and I have seared yellow fin tuna for tea.
In the car park Could Be Colin is collecting the trolleys.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
