They're like Frosted Flakes, he said

…and how anyone could have looked at Nicholas Hoult’s Beast design and say it doesn’t look like shit is beyond me.  There are two things which (just barely) keep this movie afloat: Kevin Bacon as villain Sebastian Shaw and Michael Fassbender as villain in training Magneto.  Fassbender is one of the grooviest actors of our generation and never phones it in, managing to elevate every poorly written and constructed scene in which he appears – which is pretty much all the scenes he’s in.  And Bacon is simply sumptuous as the energy absorbing former Nazi and all around mean guy Shaw and provides a desperately needed spark of, hmmmm, life?  Character?  Anything worth watching?  I’ll have my Kevin Bacon with an order of pancakes and a side of eggs cooked over easy!  Bacon does it again!  Notice I didn’t say James McAvoy elevates things because he was a daft, dank and damned dirge of a disenchanting dull Professor X.   

I challenge anyone who truly believes they liked this movie to watch it again and to think about a couple things: If there had not been four X-Men related movies prior to this one then would it still be anywhere near as enjoyable?  If this movie had come out in 2011 and had been the first X-Men movie would it have launched a franchise which now has 7 movies?  Is there anything about this damn movie that doesn’t seem like just another paint-by-numbers ultra-dull origin story where basically nothing happens and we watch for over 2 interminable hours just so we can see Professor X end up in a wheelchair and Magneto put on a fucking helmet?!  I hate this movie!  I have no qualms whatsoever calling X-Men First Class the worst in the franchise by a large margin.  I would watch X-Men Origins: Wolverine a thousand times in a row before daring to watch this once more.  I hate it so much that I’m going to eat a big bowl of Trix cereal with whole milk!  You only want me for my acres!  Honestly, if anyone reading this has the brass balls to go watch this movie for a second time and tell me they still liked it and explains to me why I will give them five dollars American currency on the spot!  I truly believe everyone who ever said this was a good movie was suffering from kind of psychogenic fugue and failed to notice the complete absence of engaging, well developed characters, interesting story developments or even a vague attempt to weave dozens of disparate and frankly cheap looking scenes together.  And that’s not hyperbole either!  Anyone who said this was a good movie is objectively, factually wrong and anyone who said they liked it was not operating under a clear frame of mind and would think differently upon a second and sober viewing.  Bad, bad movie.    

I have found you and I fail you on what sometimes feels like a moment by moment basis.  There is such anger and hate which festers inside of me and sometimes even for people whom I claim to love. 

What am I doing here?  Please someone shoot me please someone shoot me please someone shoot me please someone shoot me!  What is this thing in my lap? 

Alain always breaks my heart.  How happy I am for this discovery. 

I was happier than a dog rolling in a steaming pile of pig shit to learn that a sequel is currently being made to RZA’s 2012 flick The Man with the Iron Fists.  As I have stated previously on this very blog the first film is such a lovingly rendered homage to classic Shaw Brothers kung fu movies that I could literally feel the passion oozing out of my woefully inadequate Vizio widescreen television set and covering me from head to toe.  I don’t know what this newest installment will have in store (though I suspect it won’t diverge too wildly from the original or their inspirations) but I await it with bated breath.  The fact that this second chapter will almost certainly be a direct to dvd, video on demand or extremely limited theatrical release flick actually fills me with greater anticipation since in recent years these humbler action films have been amongst the most intelligent, creative and interesting and a blissfully far cry from the increasingly bloated and boring messes Hollywood churns out. 

As I re-watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy I am continually struck like a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself by how much more I am enjoying them these days in comparison to my initial viewing so many years ago.  Of course they nearly bored me to death so many years ago so exceeding my original expectations slash appraisals is not in and of itself a great leap.  That being said, it has thus far not simply been a case of increased tolerance but genuine active enjoyment. And though there is still a part of me dreading the seemingly endless The Return of the King what with its roughly 37 tacked on endings it most assuredly is not the palpable bite-my-tongue off, please knife me in the gut type of dread which it would have been this time last year.  

The Two Towers was a predominantly enjoyable romp though its natural state – at least in cinematic form – as something which does not quite have a beginning and most definitely does not have an ending leaves me feeling a bit unsatisfied but I admit I am likely in the minority on this.  There are also things which pop up throughout this trilogy which baffle me with their inclusion and sometimes drive down the respective movie in a shocking way. The constant use of Gimli as comic relief with the mirthless and endless parade of short jokes and competitive jibes with the sleep inducing Legolas was already grinding but it comes to a stunningly awful apex in the climactic battle of Helm’s Deep scenes where the two start counting how many of Saruman’s drones they’ve slaughtered to see who can get the highest number.  I half expected them to start slapping fives – down low! – and pop open a couple of brews (preferably PBR) while in the thick of this supposedly heated battle.  It just kept destroying the tone and nearly all semblance of tension when the scene would cut from an ultra-serious and on point Aragorn fighting for the lives of the humble townsfolk and their king and then jump to these jokers merrily giggling their way through the fray and surfing down the stairs.  Just thinking about this scene right now is getting me steamed!  It was like something from a Pirates of the Caribbean movie and that is never a flattering comparison to make.  

The talking trees also bring the movie to a screeching halt every time they appear with the payoff of their storyline at the film’s end hardly seeming to justify their repeated inclusion.  I truly believe you could have shown the two lesser hobbits meeting them once and then simply include their burst-into-battle-to-attack-Saruman’s-tower scene at the end and no one would have been crying out for those additional thirty minutes of talking trees scenes.  I could be mistaken but they would seem to be even more arbitrary given that particular storyline’s culmination complete lack of significance in Return of the King (if tortured memory serves).  And as much as a great many of the FX of this flick – and indeed the trilogy as a whole – should be praised the trees just look so ridiculous and their dialogue so droning that I knew I would shortly commit a serious act of relief inducing self-mutilation if they did not cease.  Though I admit I did find it cute when the tree who was set on fire put himself out in the freshly unleashed dam water, it was a subtle comical touch and far funnier than most of the other forced shoehorned in humor.  But still, Two Towers was infinitely more enjoyable this time around! 

There are going to be some people reading this who will find it a sacrilege that I prefer The Man with the Iron Fists to any of the Lord of the Rings movies.  If I ever meet those people I will happily strip naked and dance a ballet for them.  It is those glorious differences of opinion that make this world such a wonderful subjective place.  As David Bowie says, “and there is no hell like an old hell”.  Without David I would have seen my brains splatter all over the off-white walls of my posh flat many moons ago.  I consider ending it all at least once an hour – typically on the hour and in accordance with my Azimuth brand watch which keeps excellent Swiss quartz time – and it is almost always the voice and words of David which hold me back.  Perhaps in that respect he is actually doing the world a grave disservice through his art but all the same I cannot keep myself from listening. 

I knew my gun had no bullets when I pointed it at the piano player.