It's been a while since we haven't been to the cinema to not watch films we don't think we'll like so we thought it was time we got our act together, put some time aside and not watch some movies. Then talk about them.
First up is...dun..dun...duuuuuun...
Charlie St. Cloud (psh).
(Dir. Burr Steers).
There are two very fucking stupid things about this film that are alarmingly clear right off the bat. Firstly, the name; Charlie St. Cloud. That is a fucking dumb name for a person. Do you know any St. Cloud's? No, because anyone with that last name is a prick and you don't associate with pricks. Do you? The 'St. Cloud's', honestly.
Now, we know it's based on a book, but good god how are you supposed to sympathise with a lead character named Charlie St. Cloud? Say it out loud a few times, try it on for size, now imagine what that person looks like. And now you hate them.
The only thing dumber than the name of both the film and lead character, played by the roguishly handsome Efron (look at his fucking arms! Kablamo!), is the name of the director. Burr Steers. That is the name of a coked out porn producer who sometimes likes to neck a bottle of Limonchello and then get all nasty in the action in front of the camera. Probably. At least the other name is made up. This is either a stage name, which means he chose it and that makes him a real jackass, or someone gave him that name, therefore making him the product of cruel and unusual parents. Either way, it's a stupid name. He did however direct Igby goes Down, which was pretty good.
Anyway, by the looks of it the film is about some dead kid stopping his brother getting laid. Then Ray Liotta is all 'get some ass son, you gotta' work that shit on a sailboat'. Then Zac Efron is all 'Yeah, alright. Fuck my dead brother, he's behaving like a real knobber'. Then by the looks of it he gets his nuts in. Real deep (sorry). That's a review.
Rush: Beyond The Lighted Stage.
(Dir. Sam Dunn, Scott McFadyen.)
You know how you love Rush? Yeah us neither. Can you name a Rush song? Yeah us neither (the film title maybe?). That being said they are apparently fucking massive, selling ass-tons of records and gleaning hordes of fans, who by the looks of it, are pretty wet for them.
The concept of the film seems to be rich people in gigantic shit bands talk about how much they like Rush while everyone watching talks about how much they don't give a shit. What's the point here? Rush aren't big enough and people need to know about this cult underground sensation that's going to change the face of music forever? No. Rush are underrated and deserve their place in history as a cultural force of music? No, look how many people are at their gig (it's not a gig, it's a merchandise stall with music and fireworks). IMDB gave this nine stars! Nine stars! How good can this be? Rush? Really?
(Please bare in mind we have never heard a Rush song)
Splice.
(Dir. Vincenezo Natali)
Adrian Brody has a gross baby (no surprise there). Adrian Brody is boring (no surprise there). Adrian Brody is charmless (no surprise there) Adrian Brody makes another terrible career move (classic Brody). Then he probably kills the mutant. Or shags it. Or both. KNOB THE CORPSE BRODY, KNOB THE CORPSE THAT IS YOUR CAREER OVER AND OVER AGAIN LIKE YOU SEEM TO do WITH EVERY MOVIE YOU MAKE (Darjeeling Lmt. was alright).
African Cats.
(Dir. Keith Scholey, Alastair Fothergill.)
This film already exists. It's called The Lion King.
Hakuna Matata bitches.