Let's get out of this fucking film

So I started this blog with a review of the strongest contender possibly ever for the accolade of "what a shit film"; well last night I had a first hand encounter with another competitor despearate for the title of "AWFUL THING" (note, not even film, just THING).

Yes, last night I went to see "PREDATORS".

Now I love these sort of crappy action films so really I am not being entirely honest. Don't get me wrong, this film was terrible, but it was still very entertaining, so it will never topple Sex and the Shite 2 from it's mantle, so well done to the makers of Predators.

So I was in no way dragged against my will, I practically dragged my friend if anything. But I was under a mis-conception. Having only recently seen the originial "Predator" and never any of the sequels or predators fighting aliens fighting twilight vampires etc etc, so I had presumed this was just a remake of the original. When someone asked me why I was going to see Predators I had the ultimate response - how could it not be like the first one, but 3 x better!
My reasons are as follows:

1) The first one was great, granted, but Arnie is basically a block of wood with a german accent, therefore this one would be like the first (ie great) but without a talking block of wood - hurrah!
2) It wasn't made in the 80s
3) Predators = MORE THAN ONE PREDATOR

So it wasn't set to disappoint. Unfortunately, it did.
Things started to go downhill in the adverts - every advert was either for lucozade, other sports drinks and generally MAN THINGS, all nicely seperated with one "Nivea anti-ageing cream", it was about as out of place as a pork pie at a vegan conference.

Then the actual trailers, none of which I can remember apart from one, PIRRANAHS. I won't ramble on about this suffice to say that I left Predators talking more about how much I wanted to see Pirranahs than the film Predators which I had just seen. It looks awesome, basically lots and lots of mini Jaws-esque fish reaping havoc. So like Jaws, but with pirranahs. I for one, can't wait, and nor can this blog.

So already I had resigned myself that however hard Predators tried, this film wasn't going to be as good as Pirranahs. Still, I'd paid my extorinate ticket, I would stay.

Well these hopes pretty soon disolved when I placed the main guy (as in major beefcake, talking 3 ocataves lower than his normal voice, reallly sounds like he needs a good phlegm) as the emancipated dude from The Pianist. Well that sealed the deal. From then on, whenever any of his other moronic "why the fuck are we stuck on this island dude" companions asked him what he did in his real life I was forever expecting:

"I'm a pianist"

Also, whenever he said something really hardcore and manly like:

"I'm going to kill this motherfucking alien" this seemed like it should be followed by "and then I'm going to play the piano"

Just too confusing for me. Too many conflicting genres in one action film.

There were also many irritating inconsistencies for a pedant like me. Without giving away too many details of the extraordinarily complex plot there was one point when the pianist, sorry, I mean beefcake basically asked the Predator for a favour. This irritated me. I mean, he really took a PRETTY BIG FUCKING GAMBLE on the presumption that this alien from out of space understood English. Fortunately for him, it seemed to, but I still maintain if he'd chucked the odd 'lol' into the chat he would have really livened things up a bit. Or maybe even drawn a smiley face on the ground, with a stick.

Also there was the standard plot twist of classic, good, likeable character suddenly turns bad and how do you know this? Oh he changes his voice. Of course, the mark of an evil person, the change in voice from teeny high school musical timbre to one which implies that I'm going to stab you repeatedly. What a life lesson I was taught. I now know that if someone can change their voice to something bearing no resemblance to their actual voice... well the chances are they're a psychopath and they want to kill you. I would recommend running away.

Well this really summed up the many many stupid points of this film. However, despite its many many flaws, I surprsingly didn't find myself too bored (impressive for me, I have the attention span of a gnat) so for that reason when the final impressively badly written line of:

"lets get off this fucking island"

was uttered, I wasn't too disappointed that this signified the end but I wasn't too relieved either. It hadn't lived up to my expectations - but it had brought my closer to my new goal, Pirranahs. Can't wait.

Lets all drink to the death of a series

Last night I went to see Sex and the City 2. I wish I hadn't. I can now add that to the long list of 3 hours of my life which I want back, but have despondently resigned myself to accepting...I just won't.

I was not, totally unprepared for this though. I have read my fair share of the reviews and so was half expecting it to be, abysmal. I was holding out though; I liked the last film, it made me laugh, it was witty it maintained the essence of the show, I was a fan. And I, loved the tv series. It was a staple feature of my school days and I still watch it now, and always enjoy it. Regardless of what anyone says, I stand by my opinion that it's a good show. The writing is witty and the characters are not just 2 dimensional lonely women with a side of nymphomania. Plus it was frequently bloody funny, and yes, it talked about sex, but frankly, honestly, and really, realistically. The characters talked about sex the way millions of women everyday across the world talk and think about sex and discuss it with their friends. Good stuff, in my books basically.

So the first film was perhaps a little long, and Carrie did scream quite a lot (standard), but it also did generally manage to maintain the majority of the best things about the series. The second film however, did not. In fact, it was rather like at some point during the production of the second film, they had gathered everything representing the series and the first film, burnt them, buried its ashes and then directed dogs within a 100 mile radius to repeatedly shit upon the grave, legacy and memory of them. I mean, fuck this film was this awful.

Although it did have amusing moments, at which I duly laughed these in no way came anywhere close to redeeming it. Without giving away any of the plot (I use the word plot in the loosest sense of the word) the entire film gave you an incredible insight into what happens when writers and producers attempt to cack-handedly deal with a sensitive issue (in this case, Muslim and Middle-Eastern culture), give up, mid pathetic attempt and instead repeatedly trample over them instead. Painful. It basically featured, 4 middle aged women (who suddenly have become so one-dimensional I could have sworn at one stage Miranda turned sideways and literally just DISAPPEARED), running around the Middle East, lamenting why they can't talk about sex, why they can't wear that one thread of fabric they paid over $9,000 dollars in child labor for, and why does no one else dress like them? They are after all, FABULOUS. Oh sorry, I meant were.


So apart from Carrie's annoying voice overs and several severe cases of mutton dressed up as lamb it held practically no relation to its predecessors. Ironically enough, this is what I find myself clinging to though. In order for me to watch and enjoy SATC at some point in the future (after a grace period of recovery), I need to remind myself that this second film, was really like some mutant cousin born out of wedlock. It exists, but lets pretend it doesn't, for the greater good.