I'm sorry.. I don't speak Spanish.

Bong Joon-Ho has go a new movie out soon, Mother. His earlier effort Memories Of Murder is one of my favourite films a truly unique police thriller.

To cut a long story short I was searching for his films on eBay and came across Barking Dogs Never Bite. I knew it was a black comedy but looked at the description for a more in-depth summary:

"Fierce as a mad" is properly definite to an idle part-tim college lecturer.During class while he was discussing,the yapping sound as dog barking annoyed him.It gets him nerves.He waits for a little while until he is certain that a dog wills never non-stop bark,so he decides to take a drastic action to a pity dog! Be warned,Pet lovers are going to be shocked and maybe outrage after seeing!"

Glad that's cleared up then.

Kirk Douglas is not the only Viking.

Oh hey there film industry! My name is Nicolas Winding Refn and I'm here to shake you up.

Mr Grumples Gets Monged Out.

Gran Torino. Gran Fucking Torino. What a stinker.

Although Clint Eastwood now looks like a shell-less turtle and sounds like Papa Lazarou doing an impression of The Dark Knight, he can still command the screen. A presence that could never dull due to the incredible body of work behind it, Clint still remains witty, intimidating and at times ferocious. And this is the problem, Clint is so good, he easily outshines the rest of the cast, spotlighting how incredibly bad their acting is. Are the Mong cast even actors, or just there because they're Mong? How Clint's character develops any kind of bond with the uncharismatic kid next door is beyond me. The dude can barely speak his lines, and please, look away when any emotion is required because you'll want to clench your teeth so tightly in embarrassment they'll shatter down your chest like tic tacs.

The ending is so disappointing, so easy and sentimental I honestly wondered if this was the same film everyone has been wanking on about. I know its an Eastwood joint, but I think people are getting 'effortless' confused with a film that just couldn't have any less effort put into it. What is the deal with everyone just accepting mediocrity?

Hamfisted ideas of 'why can't we all get along' are bludgeoned into our eyeballs, but it just doesn't work. I was going to say something about the scene where Clint looks at himself in the mirror and actually says what he wants you to think about the parallels and differences between his family and the family next door, but I can't remember what he says now, but look out for it as a total low point for movie subtlety. How can a legendary film maker responsible for some of my favourite films sink so low? If you want a film chock full of the complexities of awkward relationships, the notion of growing old and emotion that isn't from a Hallmark card, watch 'Thunderbolt and Lightfoot'.

The one thing this film does tell us, is that racism is funny. Think about it, what parts of the film did you laugh at? Yeah, that's right, when he said 'slope'. Funny.

3Mix

Britains first all asian boyband. Their debut single has been co-written by Ex-Blue member Lee Ryan. A fine pedigree.

3Mix's own manager had this to say to the BBC:

"Asians are long established in Britain - let's face it, everyone loves curry - but there is a perception that Asians are just not cool,"

Well done then 3Mix for subverting that perception.

Is it wrong of me to find both that quote and picture hilarious?

Fail

Apologies for the Tim Roth blog. It's badly written. You get the idea.

Tim Woff

It's such a shame when actors trickle off and begin to shun the exciting, fiery roles that they made their name with for more simple, easy fluff (I'm looking at you De Niro, yes I know you're the only one there that is why I am looking at you. Yes I am looking at you, I cannot make this any clearer). Tim Roth while never any ones favourite actor seems to be doing that with Skellig, a new fantasy drama on TV this Easter.
Can we all just get over these kids fantasy films please, they are all the same, and I'm getting pretty bored of them. In fact so bored I've written my own: Dinglefart Bumblecunt, in which a bullied little pissflap is magically transported to an alternate London, ruled over by Joris The Bonsen and his Kamaroo birds (they are a metaphor for cctv. What I did was take the word 'camera' and work back from there). Our little pissflap makes friends with a Hooded Mooslam named Dinglefart, a half Moose half human monstrosity that always wears a black robe (metaphor for a Muslim) and although at first scarey helps take down Joris through friendship and kindness and freeing the dominated populace at the same time. Pissflap is then transported back home where he finds he was just locked in hs garden shed and had succumbed to turps fumes. I'm asking Tim Roth if he wants in, because I recently watched both 'Made in Britain' and 'The Hit' and he is incredible in both and I know he can handle it. Both films show a raw, unpolished, utterly convincing Roth making full use of his terrifying sneery grin. I was going to write about them both in detail, but you should just rent them or something, the very least you could do is watch their trailers on Youtube you lazy git. Tsk, the things I do for you. Both films get 9 cockney hoodlums out of 10.

Santa Esmeralda

Yeah, it's the theme tune to The Good The Bad And The Weird, deal with it.

We Love You Grandad

I haven't got a Grandad, a Grampy, a Gramps or a Pops. I see people laughing and sneering at me in the street, calling me 'Grampless' or 'Popnought' I try to ignore them but I hear them alright, their laughter chattering in my ears like cicadas.
I had Nanas but no Papas, they had both passed over (died, not turned gay) by the time I had cognitive thought. Now I'm doomed to see people my age skipping round the town centre with their Grampa's, rubbing it in my face, throwing boiled sweets into each others mouths and whittling pieces of wood and generally having tons of other pensioner orientated fun. I need to claim me a Grandad, and as it's my game I have first dibs. I choose Alan Whicker. No, not Forrest Whitaker, you weren't listening. Alan Whicker.
If you don't know who he is, then this time I'll forgive you as he hasn't been on TV for years. He's the old guard, a walking piece of nostalgia and a nod to a time when TV wasn't all Horden and Corne. He made television that was actually interesting; social commentary pieces documenting parts of the world most of the UK had yet to see. Always charming, effortlessly dressed in a double breasted suit, tie and matching handkerchief in his pocket (sometimes, if in a hot climate sporting a white panama) Whicker provided a gentle satire and a passage to the unknown.
Although now looking exactly like a melding of both Statler and Waldorf should they have tried out the matter transporter from The Fly, his quick wit and dapper manner have not left him. When two interviewees begin to say how much they love each other in his latest programme, Whicker calmly states 'I'm going to be sick'.
He is currently reviewing all his past documentaries in 'Whickers Journey Of A lifetime' on BBC2 and on the iplayer. You should check it out, it's like Louis Theroux without the faux ignorance, more panache and a damn site more panama hats. Plus he's my Grandad now, it'd be rude not to.

"Grampy, what did you do in the war?"

"Brought in a load of German SS officers in Milan, get over it."

Pretty Good.

Iggle Piggle

Iggy Pop may now look like a half deflated sex doll flogging insurance in a teeth grittingly irritating advert, but we can't ignore that at one point this man was pretty damn cool. Admired (to the hilt, alledgedly) by David Bowie, his powerful, feral stage presence often over shadowed his inquisitvie and dare I say it, intellectual mind. Pick out any past interviews and he always has valid, erudite points to make. Charming, modest and witty (even when toothless) he can only be described as a true Rock 'N' Roll icon.
Although The Idiot and Lust For Life attract the most attention, probably due to interest in Bowies production, it's New Values that I feel truly gives a balanced picture of Iggy Pop. New Wave, Punk and Kraut Rock all merge into a bizarre, laid back, jumped up sneering leering record that sounds like Lux Interior trying to seduce Talking Heads.

Good Video

Kasabian - Vlad the Impaler from Kasabian on Vimeo.

Shame it's for Kasabian. Looks a lot like the Bitchkiller vid, so I assume Dean Learner himself directed. I'm probably wrong, I usually am. Is it just me or do Kasabian sound like Chemical Bros circa '96?

Advertising

My day at work, like most people in front of a computer usually entails trawling through ebay and impulse buying anything vaguely of interest. The vintage clothes section is my jumping off point. Leather jackets are usually under the header 'fight club' or 'pimp' or some other illogical bullshit no matter the cut, but today I came across this young entrepreneur. He's cornered a niche market for selling leather jackets, which is to wear a ww2 Biggles helmet and hold a raygun under the banner of 'steam punk'. Fingers crossed for all those nerds still living in 1994, reading tank girl comics and discussing if Deckard really is a replicant to rush bid. Hats (biggles helmets) off to him for originality.

PS: Of course, he's from Nottingham.

Night Of The Creeps

Night Of The Creeps is going to get a full dvd release this Halloween. The most underrated splatter film of the 80s is gonna get cleaned up, polished and buffed, rendering those bootleg eBay copies looking about as tidy as an Italian Village.

Grand Gnasher-nal

Although looking like a Bo Selecta mask herself, Clare Balding got in trouble over a remark made about Grand National winner Liam Treadwell's gob. Let's be fair he has a clear cut case of sweetcorn teeth, but this story reads like an Alan Partridge script.

Ahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

David Bowie's Teeth

Up next Brain Eno's hairline. Stay tuned.

Plans For A Better Life.

Step 1: Strip and paint myself in Marmite.

Step 2: Glue some flys to my eyelid and lip.

Step 3: Force out my stomach.

Step 4: Hope Madonna spots me and adopts me.

Four Mistakes Made By Topman

All these monstrosities were in the Topman 'new items' section. Someone needs firing. Hooded shirts? No. All over skull prints? No. Dungarees? No. Red leopard print? Good lord no.

Not Quite Hollywood.

Documentary films. My pet peeve about documentaries is they never usually have enough film/video footage of the subject they are banging on about. This has filmatists leaning heavily on still photographs and resorting to just moving a camera in and out of them, or winding around them trying to fool the viewer into thinking what they are watching is active. You can't fool me documentarists I'm onto you.This will not wash, so stop doing it. Luckily the film 'Not Quite Hollywood' doesn't have that, what it does have is an abundance of awsome footage of Australian exploitation films, the stories behind which are beyond bonkers. Stuntmen killed, girls bribed to strip, washed up actors brought over on the cheap, and lest we forget Dennis Hopper at his most crazy (late 70s Dennis Hopper, high, drunk and psychotic, marauding shoeless through a graveyard smashing up headstones.) Relaxed censorship laws allowed genre/trash filmakers to go nuts in 70s Australia heaping on the boob fondling bloodletting and injury baiting action like never before. Of course a few genuine classics slipped through like Mad Max and Road Games for example, but it's the crap like Fantasm, Stunt Rock and Turkey Shoot that provide the meat of this doc and much of the humour. Even the presence of Quentin 'I'll fucking steal anyones ideas me' Tarantino can't hamper this film. Seriously, check it out. My film of the year so far, I give it 9 floppy 70s tits out of 10.

My Love Lives In The Sewers

What the..?!?


Mi Amore Vive En Las Alcantarillas

Crackers. Absolutely crackers.

You Looky You Likey

Ricky Gervais

That cunt from Glasvegas.

Fashion Does Have A Sense Of Humour!

Merci French Vogue and also Jezebel!



As Jezebel points out, can you imagine the outrage if this was done anywhere but France?

The Mechanic : Murder is just killing without a license

Pff. No way can Bronsons 'tach even keep pace with Nicholsons. Charles Bronsons face looks like a shoelace drapped over a squinting walnut, completely out of the moustache race I'm afraid.

A mechanic is the Mobs term for a hitman by the way, the only reason I can figure for this is they give bizarre and vague pricing structures for a job that isn't as complicated as it might seem.

My favourite line: 'Yeah, I heard something like that sometime'. What?

My favourite scene: A bonkers house party with a fully dressed couple in a bathtub being watched by a pig on a dresser. Insane.

Although the storyline of up-and-coming hitman tutelage may seem like a prequel to Leon, it really isn't. There is no link to Leon in anyway, and you shouldn't trouble yourself thinking about it.

PS: Calm down dear, the film was directed by Michael Winner, no wonder it was dooples.

Moustache Of The Week

The Last Detail sees Jack Nicholson in fine fucking form. And check out that creepy beauty slithering across his top lip. Any character with the nick name of 'Badass' has got my instant attention. Billy Buddusky I salute you and your facial hair. Watch your back though son, I'm watching The Mechanic tonight with Charles Bronson

Wages Of Fear

During my recent Delon sessions, I had a quick word with my Dad about other films he was in.

"The Wages Of Fear, definitely, he is definitely in that one. I'm sure. He's the suave one in it Will, I think you'll like it."

Well, I did like it, but it wasn't Alain Delon, it was another Gallic actor Yves Montand (resembling a flat topped Nick Knowles). You can tell he's French because he has the innate French quality of having a 99% smoked cigarette permanently hanging out of his mouth, be it laughing, talking, whistling or humming, that cigarette will remain stuck there without the slightest intention of dropping. I always wonder if there are reams of French film piled up on cutting room floors consisting of ruined shots because a cigarette has dropped out of someones mouth. I doubt it, they're too cool for that. Yves Montand while not as weirdly other-worldly as the young Delon is still a pretty smooth character, he can get away with wearing a fruity neckerchief without the slightest whiff of fruit about him. Good talent to have, especially if you insist on sporting one.

Now the film. Its set in a shitty little South American town (you know it's shitty because peasants occasionally trot past on donkeys in the back ground), work is scarce but European immigrants looking to earn a crust are plenty. French, Italian, German and English all congregate in the one saloon, beating animals and referring to the locals as 'savages'. Good times. The only work available comes from the local American oil company who need to drive highly volatile nitroglycerin across bumpy country roads. The pay is $2000, and everyone is desperate to do it to buy a plane ticket and get the hell out of there. The four characters who are lucky enough to get the opportunity to risk their lives are, Yves Montand, his ex-gangster mate, a fat Italian stereotype who's dying of lung cancer and a German (who looks totally Aryan super-race but tells of how he was tortured by the Nazis, I didn't understand that bit.)

The second half of the movie consists of the group pootling along in two trucks full of explosives, petrified they will blow up at any moment. Tense. Super tense. Hitchcockian tense? No Clouzot tense. Hitchcocks European rival and the man who snaffled the rights to Les Diaboliques before old wobble chops could get them, prompting him to up his game and make Psycho. If you have never seen Les Diaboliques, you really should, it's totes awesome and really does have an ending that should not be revealed. Really. Do not google anything about it, just get it and enjoy. Clouzot seems to dabble in endings where the viewer feels like they have just been totally sucker punched. Thoughts, of 'What? No! Really?Jeez.' scamper through your mind. Always good in my opinion and Wages Of Fear has a doozy.

Although the grimness of reality is nothing new to us in this day and age (thanks 60s film revolution), I can't imagine how audiences felt 50 years ago. I doubt there were many movies were a guy would purposely run over his friends legs, screaming as they snap and leave him face down in crude oil, just to finish a job. High fives to Clouzot for that. Themes of friendship, bravery, greed and who we think we are all come to the fore in the movie. Mental and physical limits are tested and although character development is a little languid at the start, the second half really steps it up a gear. Though not perfect I give it 8 sobering slaps to the face and screams of 'calm down you'll kill us all' out of 10.

The Black 'Falling Down'

When I heard they were doing an urban version of Falling Down I thought man, this is going to be off the fucking bog-chain! Mad gangsta slang spat at the white mans system? Turning a notoriously kinda racist(ish) film (it really isn't) on it's head, this I gotta see. Fuck the system, fuck society, and fuck Ronald McDonald. I couldn't wait to see that scene where D-Fens shoots the place up with an uzi because he can't get a Mc-breakfast or whatever. This is gonna be some real shit. Turns out, it's just embarrassing.

Bawownk Bass

Delon'd out my noggin

After the smoothness of Alain Delon in girl on a motorcycle I needed confirmation that this was not a one off. I plumped for Plein Soleil and by Jove he only went and out dapper'd himself. Made in 1960, six years previous to girl Delon was only 25 and still resembled more of a boy than a man (I'm thinking this is because he is pipe-less the entire time), oddly looking like a walking doll than a real human being (I also think he's one of those men who only has to shave under their nose, like once every two months). It's odd from a distance he's kinda James Dean-ish, I'd like to think without the propensity for getting bummed while having cigarettes put out on him, crossed with Zack Efron (who I totally would believe likes to get bummed while having cigarettes put out on him, though this has yet to be confirmed). By 'from a distance', I mean when he is framed in a long shot, not that I went into another room to squint at the TV.
The story is the same as The Talented Mr Ripley with Jude Law and Matt Damon, but the gay undertones of that version are pretty much muted here. Delon is only after one thing, rich pussy and the playboy lifestyle. And by rich pussy I mean killing his super rich friend, framing him for a murder, stealing his identity, writing a will to his grieving, not rich girlfriend making her super rich so he can sneak in, do the old concerned friend trick and pocket the cash. A bold plan. Good plan in fact, except things don't go at all tickety boo. I won't spoil this one for you, but it has some amazing little directorial touches where you're kind of like 'a-ho-ho-ho nearly Delon, nearly got caught you little murdering scamp'. Good job Rene Clement, have an onion on me! Man, I've written a lot. And not about Alain Delon. My point was going to be he wears a suit like a fucking champ, and his hair is immaculate (again). He also seems to have invented that rolled up trouser, deck shoe thing that I keep reading so much about lately. It does help that he gets to swan about the Mediteranean, bronzed by the sun, fag lolling out his mouth and not trudging around TK Maxx deciding whether a McDonalds would be OK because you still have that chicken breast in the fridge, but you had chicken for lunch and it's boring to have it twice in one day, but it really needs eating, perhaps you could make some pasta and cut it up and pop it in with it because there's also half a jar of Dolmio in the fridge too, yeah have pasta, sorted. Delon doesn't think like that, he thinks, 'man I wanna nail that girl, how could I do it? Perhaps murder her boyfriend? Yeah, think I'll do that'.
I'll tell you what is a bit of a mind fuck though, French actors, playing Americans, in Italy, talking (dubbed) English, writing French and spouting Italian phrases. Don't let that put you off though, it isn't that confusing, you can handle it I'm sure. Umm' I'll wrap this up by saying I wish we all dressed like Alain Delon, and not like Rodney from the first series of Only Fools and Horses (plaid shirt, drain pipe jeans, short back and sides, plimsols). The end.

Jaded

I don't know if you are aware, but Jade Goody has died. It's a shame that a woman who consistently shied away from public view has passed on with the minimum of fuss. She helped create a better world for us all, she was our princess. It's hard to put your finger on exactly why she was a hero as there are just too many selfless works to choose from. The mind becomes clouded sifting through her actions and thoughts to actually pick out one instance that deserved her amassed fortune and a grieving nation (mostly just Essex though). Thank goodness the Prime Minister stepped forward and has given his thoughts, I was dying to know his opinion and he hasn't got much on his plate at the moment, so why not take time out to reflect on the importance of Jade Goody? He praised her for all her efforts in bringing awareness to Cervical cancer. It's funny that, because before she contracted it, I didn't hear a peep from her on the subject. Perhaps just getting cancer now constitutes bringing awareness to it. I just hope Gordon Brown will be offering condolences to each and every single woman in this country that dies from cancer and praises their efforts to bring awareness to the disease.
In all fairness anyone dying young is a tragedy, especially if they have children. But let's all just calm down. This woman was a fucking idiot and nothing more. When we laughed, we laughed at, not with. But she's gone now, so let's just move on, I hear Jeremy Spake has got Parkinsons and Kinga got a bottle stuck up her shitbox after another drunken session.

Lily Allen

There are some pop stars that you just like. Everything about them should be totally repugnant to you, but then that little voice in your head says 'come on now, give the lil fella a go' and against all your bodily control you let go, shake out the hate and embrace the three minutes of care free moozak parped into your ears. A smile drags itself like a legless D-day soldier scrounging for his shins across your lips and you forget how utterly shit your life is for that brief moment thanks to that burbling moron on the radio. Lil Chris and his genius two singles a few years back were a case in point as is generally anything Timberlake moonwalks across. Lily Allen is not one of those pop stars. I hate everything about her, starting with her Pug Dog face, sassy tell it like it is attitude (she does not care. I mean it. She doesn't care, really. No. fuck off, she doesn't, get out my face yeah?), and lets not forget she came from Keith Allen's scrotum. Her twee pop tunes coyly fluttering their eyes in a pink tutu innocently eating an ice cream while hiding a darker truth about relationships and life, yeah, make me want to perforate my own eardrums with knitting needles so I was horrified to find myself enjoying her new video. I don't feel too bad, because the song itself (her boyf needs some Performa dunkies or think about piles of bodies being shifted after the holocaust or something) is shit, IE her involvement, while it's more the video itself, the filmatismisticness that was better. Its a trick done before, making the video look as though it was made in the 70s or 80s with muted colour and cleverly crap editing, both the Strokes and Arctic Monkeys have done it previously, but damn it works well. Like the formulaic structure of pornos, what you see is nothing new but it doesn't mean you won't enjoy it. I just wish when a promo director gets a good idea, to not waste it on someone whose audience isn't going to appreciate it. Snobbery, I hate it but y'know, do as I say not as I do.

Villains.

As great as the Red Riding series was, it highlighted the dangers of having a well known actor playing the part of a villain whose identity is meant to remain a secret until *gasp* an astonishing reveal. As soon as Peter Mullen turned up with his ruddy whiskery face and gargling lava voice in episode one, it was obvious that he was going to be the/a main man. It was no surprise come paedo-geddon that he would be first in line for a right ol' shotgunning. Why would an actor of such renowed calibre (not by me, I reserve the same amount of unqualified loathing for him as I do Judi Dench) take anything but a key role? The same can also be said for the BBCs recent grimathon Wallander (starring the corpse of Kenneth Brannagh), when in the episode entitled 'Sidetracked' we had a fleeting glimpse of Nicholas Holt (played by the drummer from White Lies). Why would the star of Skins accept such a tiny role, surely he's the killer? Correctamundo. Ayyyyyyyyyyyyy! This is an easy concept to grasp; any actor who has had national recognition should not be a character who is suspiciously kept offscreen and is a) hiding something later to be revealed or b) the killer in a mystery. I'm trying to think of other examples as I've ranted about this shit before, but now I can't think, hmm maybe Patrick (Swayzdog) Swayze in Donnie Darko? You catch my drift, now beat it.

The Girl On A Motorcycle

I just watched the movie girl on a motorcycle. Its always good when you expect to hate something then find out you know what, it's not that bad. I'd read a lot about the movie, it's always referenced in fashion mags and the posters are pretty sweet but I had dismissed it as simply style over substance. However my tiny brain had got it all wrong, it's the style that makes this film. Particularly Alain Delons. Dude makes smoking an old mans pipe sexy, no mean feat. There used to be a lad in Nottingham who'd turn up at clubs smoking a pipe when he was like 25, there are only a few people who can carry a pipe off, number one being Delon, number two being Sherlock Holmes, and he's a work of fiction, you can't even compete. Especially if you sit on your own looking wistfully into the distance in a nightclub puffing away like pop punk Werthers Original advert. But I digress, back to Delon. He's boned Marianne Faithful and she keeps day dreaming about the perfect French reamings she's recieved from him while razzing around Europe on her bike. I think the bike is meant to represent sexual freedom, or something like that as close up shots of her ass and crotch bobbing up and down on it are interspersed with the Franco-rut memories. Who cares? Certainly not Delon, he's more interested in spouting post-coital gems like 'love does not exist' read: 'get out'. I don't think I'm ruining it by saying theres a pretty sweet crash at the end (chill out this is not Usual Suspects) and the moral seems to be; don't cheat on your husband even if he is a nerd. Anway, I'm losing the point here, what was it? Hmm oh yeah, you should watch it if it's on TV or something. I give it 7 shrugging French men out of 10.