In its cybertronic ignorance Amazon.co.uk has placed Avatar: The Extended Edition on Blu Ray on my reccommendations page.
Avatar?
Extended Edition?
Really?!?
Who in their right mind saw Avatar and thought "Hmm, you know what? That film would benefit from being twenty minutes longer."?!?
That's like saying David Beckham doesn't get paid nearly enough or that Chris Moyles could do with being more fat, obnoxious and self important.
Amazon also told me that The Terminator (the original one, before the franchise collapsed under the weight of it's own stupidity) is due a Blu Ray release this year so I shall buy that when it comes out and watch that, Aliens and Terminator 2: Judgement Day and pretend to myself that James Cameron died tragically at his creative peak in 1992.
That's right, I didn't care for Titanic.
That film is an idiot!
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Banning Tatum
Lauren talked me into going to watch recent formulaic chick flick The Vow on Sunday. I figured that she sat through so many superhero films last summer (and she's got some serious numb bum time ahead of her with The Dark Knight Rises, The Avengers and The Amazing Spider-Man on the way) so with that in mind I can take one for the team.
Now while my taste in film is fairly gender typical I'm not opposed to a good love story. The 2006 indie Irish flick Once was a beautiful, honest and superbly acted tale of doomed romance, Punch Drunk Love was by FAR Adam Sandler's best performance (and by that I mean his only performance where I didn't want to hoof him repeatedly in the genitalia. More recently The Time Traveller's Wife made me genuinely well up and did a fantastic job of appeasing sci fi fans who hate romances and their girlfriends who love romance but hate sci fi.
Anyway, I went into The Vow with low expectations but something resembling an open mind.
After a highly risible trailer for the impending re-release of Titanic IN 3D!!!!!! and a whole load of hopelessly generic shit starring Katherine "What's My Appeal?" Heigl the film began in earnest.
All I can say is...
God, it was awful.
A fairly promising concept (a married couple are in a car crash, the wife suffers amnesia, she and her husband have to rebuild their relationship, they fall in love again, everyone goes aaaaaw) was mired by terrible dialoigue, a series of hackneyed cliches, a flat supporting cast and.... at the centre of all this a truly awful performance by Channing Tatum.
This was my first experience of Mr Tatum's work and I am prepared to commit violence to myself or others to ensure that it's my last.
Former male model, Channing Tatum has slightly less expressive capacity than your average wheelie bin. I've never seen an actor occupy so much screen time and make so little impact.
In fact I'm quite confident that if you held a loaded gun to Channing Tatum's head and shouted 'ACT MOTHERFUCKER!' he'd just stare absently at you.
Because that's his whole thing. Staring absently. Seriously, he looks confused all the way through the film. He acts like the subtext of hos each and every line is 'Have I let the gas on? I think I might have left the gas on but I'm not quite sure... Well it's nearly time for me to take my shirt off.'
For me, bad acting can really take me out of a film and if I don't care about the lead character then you're not going to sell me on the plot (especially one that feels absurdly contrived despite being 'Inspired by real events').
I never once got the feeling that Tatum's character was suffering any sort of turmoil at finding the love of his life replaced by a relative stranger. He strolls through lines and gestures like a robot designed to hit marks and spout dialogue.
Watching him act the only thoughts or feelings I could muster were along the lines of...
"That dude has a really wide neck. Seriously, he makes Matt Damon's look like a twig. Plus Matt Damon's a much better actor. Oh man, I could be watching The Bourne Identity right now. Thanks The Vow, for reminding me that I could be watching a much better film. I'd better get some serous brownie points for this shit."
It's very difficult for me to invest in a character played by a man whose only means of expression are staring absently, mumbling and intermittently taking his shirt off.
Right now you're probably thinking that the film isn't for the likes of me and this vitriol amounts to a bunch of sour grapes on my part because Tatum makes for a much better physical example of the male species than I do.
But I beg to differ. Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt and Ryan Reynolds have all enjoyed some sort of teen heart throb status and all three are amongst my favourite actors. I have no problem whatsoever with heart throbs so long as they can get some decent acting done while making girls dewy eyed.
Not only is Channing Tatum a dreadful actor but he brings the entire cast down with him. Rachel McAdams, whom I adore, is clearly doing her best with some terrible dialogue but her immense talents are wasted here and she spends the vast majority of the film looking adorable and having different hairstyles. New Zealand's own Sam Neil, whom everyone STILL thinks is British, is similarly squandered here as Ms McAdams' inevitable wealthy, domineering father.
Channing Tatum is, quite simply, an acting vacuum.
And to the several dozen 17 year old girls who felt the need to say 'Aaaaw' at every line he delivers, I hope you're prepared for the inevitable, crushing disappointment of real life relationships.
Oh God, Channing Tatum really is awful. I actually feel soiled by how many times I've had to type his name.
I'm going to grab a shower.
Oh and you know who else is shit?
Sam Fucking Worthington.
Seriously, who did he blow to get so many acting jobs?
Now while my taste in film is fairly gender typical I'm not opposed to a good love story. The 2006 indie Irish flick Once was a beautiful, honest and superbly acted tale of doomed romance, Punch Drunk Love was by FAR Adam Sandler's best performance (and by that I mean his only performance where I didn't want to hoof him repeatedly in the genitalia. More recently The Time Traveller's Wife made me genuinely well up and did a fantastic job of appeasing sci fi fans who hate romances and their girlfriends who love romance but hate sci fi.
Anyway, I went into The Vow with low expectations but something resembling an open mind.
After a highly risible trailer for the impending re-release of Titanic IN 3D!!!!!! and a whole load of hopelessly generic shit starring Katherine "What's My Appeal?" Heigl the film began in earnest.
All I can say is...
God, it was awful.
A fairly promising concept (a married couple are in a car crash, the wife suffers amnesia, she and her husband have to rebuild their relationship, they fall in love again, everyone goes aaaaaw) was mired by terrible dialoigue, a series of hackneyed cliches, a flat supporting cast and.... at the centre of all this a truly awful performance by Channing Tatum.
This was my first experience of Mr Tatum's work and I am prepared to commit violence to myself or others to ensure that it's my last.
Former male model, Channing Tatum has slightly less expressive capacity than your average wheelie bin. I've never seen an actor occupy so much screen time and make so little impact.
In fact I'm quite confident that if you held a loaded gun to Channing Tatum's head and shouted 'ACT MOTHERFUCKER!' he'd just stare absently at you.
Because that's his whole thing. Staring absently. Seriously, he looks confused all the way through the film. He acts like the subtext of hos each and every line is 'Have I let the gas on? I think I might have left the gas on but I'm not quite sure... Well it's nearly time for me to take my shirt off.'
For me, bad acting can really take me out of a film and if I don't care about the lead character then you're not going to sell me on the plot (especially one that feels absurdly contrived despite being 'Inspired by real events').
I never once got the feeling that Tatum's character was suffering any sort of turmoil at finding the love of his life replaced by a relative stranger. He strolls through lines and gestures like a robot designed to hit marks and spout dialogue.
Watching him act the only thoughts or feelings I could muster were along the lines of...
"That dude has a really wide neck. Seriously, he makes Matt Damon's look like a twig. Plus Matt Damon's a much better actor. Oh man, I could be watching The Bourne Identity right now. Thanks The Vow, for reminding me that I could be watching a much better film. I'd better get some serous brownie points for this shit."
It's very difficult for me to invest in a character played by a man whose only means of expression are staring absently, mumbling and intermittently taking his shirt off.
Right now you're probably thinking that the film isn't for the likes of me and this vitriol amounts to a bunch of sour grapes on my part because Tatum makes for a much better physical example of the male species than I do.
But I beg to differ. Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt and Ryan Reynolds have all enjoyed some sort of teen heart throb status and all three are amongst my favourite actors. I have no problem whatsoever with heart throbs so long as they can get some decent acting done while making girls dewy eyed.
Not only is Channing Tatum a dreadful actor but he brings the entire cast down with him. Rachel McAdams, whom I adore, is clearly doing her best with some terrible dialogue but her immense talents are wasted here and she spends the vast majority of the film looking adorable and having different hairstyles. New Zealand's own Sam Neil, whom everyone STILL thinks is British, is similarly squandered here as Ms McAdams' inevitable wealthy, domineering father.
Channing Tatum is, quite simply, an acting vacuum.
And to the several dozen 17 year old girls who felt the need to say 'Aaaaw' at every line he delivers, I hope you're prepared for the inevitable, crushing disappointment of real life relationships.
Oh God, Channing Tatum really is awful. I actually feel soiled by how many times I've had to type his name.
I'm going to grab a shower.
Oh and you know who else is shit?
Sam Fucking Worthington.
Seriously, who did he blow to get so many acting jobs?
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Valentine's Awesomeness
A dozen roses.
Norah Jones.
Chinese Takeaway.
I did excellent romance last night!
Norah Jones.
Chinese Takeaway.
I did excellent romance last night!
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
Getting Better At Being Me
Happy Valentine's Day folks... Or as single people prefer to call it... Happy Fuck You Day!
If you're looking for a light,fluffy, sentimental piece about the significance of Valentine's Day... Then you really don't know me at all do you? Let's get back to talking about me.
Last half term was not a good half term. In fact I'd even go so far as to say it was the worst of my career. It was always dark, always freezing cold. Teachers were tired, kids were cranky and ill-behaved and I think there was hardly a member of staff or student who wan't roaming the corridors looking for someone to punch in the genitals (except perhaps the site team who have the patience of saints).
For the better part of six weeks I felt like a slug in a Dan costume.
Despite spending an average of twelve hours a day working I never felt any sense of accomplishment and that made me depressed and moody. My teaching was probably complete crap. I felt stretched so thin, my attention focused in so many directions, that I found myself unable to do anything well. This was compounded by coming down with a horribly coldy fluey buggy thing on Friday.
In summary, then, I was not feeling good.
I'm up in Northumberland now, staying with Lauren and the in-laws, grateful for a change in scenery and already I can feel my old self coming back drip by drip like coffee into a percolator.
Wonderful, refreshing, life-giving coffee.
Excuse me a second.
....
Back!
So, I spent yesterday doing all the stuff I need to be doing more of. I went into Newcastle nice and early, had breakfast at Starbucks, looked round some cool shops and went down to the quayside to pay a visit to the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art.
Andrea Zittel's exhibit 'Wagon Stations' was (and is) a charming ode to nesting instinct which feels like walking around a high concept Ikea showroom. Zittel has built, decorated and arranged a series of caravans that explore the different definitions of what humans need to survive (from improvised firepits to bookshelves). The caravans are built from a range of materials in a range of styles with a palette of uterine reds, earthy browns, rusty oranges and imperfect chromes that illustrate our tenuous relationship with our environment.
Also on show was a multi part video installation by Elizabeth Price which was equal parts impressive and bewildering. A quartet of short films across three screens which create a scathing attack on consumer culture through the medium of close ups of toy cars over the cheerful pop synth chords of Take on Me (no, I'm not joking).
So, just in case you were remotely bothered, I'm doing a lot of cool stuff and feeling a lot better about being me.
Now I'm off to put a dent in my endless pile of A Level coursework marking.
Toodle pip!
If you're looking for a light,fluffy, sentimental piece about the significance of Valentine's Day... Then you really don't know me at all do you? Let's get back to talking about me.
Last half term was not a good half term. In fact I'd even go so far as to say it was the worst of my career. It was always dark, always freezing cold. Teachers were tired, kids were cranky and ill-behaved and I think there was hardly a member of staff or student who wan't roaming the corridors looking for someone to punch in the genitals (except perhaps the site team who have the patience of saints).
For the better part of six weeks I felt like a slug in a Dan costume.
Despite spending an average of twelve hours a day working I never felt any sense of accomplishment and that made me depressed and moody. My teaching was probably complete crap. I felt stretched so thin, my attention focused in so many directions, that I found myself unable to do anything well. This was compounded by coming down with a horribly coldy fluey buggy thing on Friday.
In summary, then, I was not feeling good.
I'm up in Northumberland now, staying with Lauren and the in-laws, grateful for a change in scenery and already I can feel my old self coming back drip by drip like coffee into a percolator.
Wonderful, refreshing, life-giving coffee.
Excuse me a second.
....
Back!
So, I spent yesterday doing all the stuff I need to be doing more of. I went into Newcastle nice and early, had breakfast at Starbucks, looked round some cool shops and went down to the quayside to pay a visit to the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art.
Andrea Zittel's exhibit 'Wagon Stations' was (and is) a charming ode to nesting instinct which feels like walking around a high concept Ikea showroom. Zittel has built, decorated and arranged a series of caravans that explore the different definitions of what humans need to survive (from improvised firepits to bookshelves). The caravans are built from a range of materials in a range of styles with a palette of uterine reds, earthy browns, rusty oranges and imperfect chromes that illustrate our tenuous relationship with our environment.
Also on show was a multi part video installation by Elizabeth Price which was equal parts impressive and bewildering. A quartet of short films across three screens which create a scathing attack on consumer culture through the medium of close ups of toy cars over the cheerful pop synth chords of Take on Me (no, I'm not joking).
So, just in case you were remotely bothered, I'm doing a lot of cool stuff and feeling a lot better about being me.
Now I'm off to put a dent in my endless pile of A Level coursework marking.
Toodle pip!
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Losing the Plot?
When congratulating a friend on the birth of her baby daughter I said that I hoped the new arrival 'brings many hours of quality entertainment'.
I think I may have got babies mixed up with Sky Plus.
Is she going to punch me do you think?
I think I may have got babies mixed up with Sky Plus.
Is she going to punch me do you think?
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