Bloody Hell

I’m sorry.
I just *can’t* get over how good this is. Still.
Think it’s the fantastic dancing flames…

Highly inspirational.
“Higgins! Fetch the playdoh!”

‘How about this…’

Drive print by Claudia Varosio, available to buy here.

Oh my fucking Gosling, YES!

Knitted Gosling. I could hug this to death.

Right. That’s it. I can’t find a pattern yet, but I *need* to learn how to crochet now.
I know I’ve said those words many times before on finding Cthulhus, Pacman Ghosts and Star Wars posh gold robots, but bloody hell – THIS has tipped me over the edge. I want to form an army of these bastards. And embroider gorgeous gold-thread scorpions on their beautiful backs. Genius.

I know I should’ve written something Drive related by now, but it’s been so fucking hard. Very hard. All I have is an ever-growing spider diagram, a frazzled brain and a hammer dressed up with a pink bow. On the 23rd of Sembtember 2011, I went slightly mental. Not recovered since. Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling have a fucking lot to answer for.

Watch this space…

“Knot the droids you are looking for” etc, etc…

    

    

Star Wars Crochet patterns. Available here from Etsy seller Lucy Ravenscar.
AMAZING. The ‘gold robot’ is the shit! Need to learn to crochet. Now.

“Stop talking about production values, the Air Force is going to kill us!” Super 8 (2011)

“Bad things happen…but you can still live.”

So the whole J.J Abrams ‘I want you to fear the alien, but feel compassion too’ was a bit patchy, but overall? Super 8 was the shit. If only because it reminded me of the wonder years of those first childhood viewings of Spielberg alien features. Yes, I was the type of child who headed straight to the garden with a chair, a blanket and a torch to search for aliens under the hedge. In the bloody daylight. Idiot child that I was. Answered only to the name of Elliot for a whole day. Don’t judge me. I think I had problems. Ritalin may have been involved.

This was the spirit of Super 8. The innocence and possibility of youth beating at the centre of its heart. The kids were making their own zombie movies. They were sneaking out of their bedroom windows and worrying about production values. They didn’t think twice about jumping into the lair of a monstrous creature to find a missing friend. Fantastic. They went behind their parents backs and had fun! They didn’t give a shit! Which may have been what I loved so much about this film. Super 8 is like the bastard offspring produced during a night of orgiastic frenzy between The Goonies and E.T. – where one of the invading fucks from Independence Day got in on the action by bringing round some Amyl Nitrate and cheap cider.

Ice Dragon was always my preferred brand. I do hope the tentacled entity souped up Chunk and the wrinkled brown alien on that shit.

Back on track, the kids were amazing. I became rather fond of the cries of “Mint!“ from Riley Griffiths as budding director Charles. Joel Courtney was great as young Joe, the grieving child finding hidden strength on being thrown into strange and frightening new circumstances without the mother he adored. He is also the best advert I’ve seen for having children yet. Cutest child actor in years. If I ever finally go through with spawning a living creature from between my thighs, I want a son who looks like that. Making zombie movies and hunting aliens would be a bonus.

Some of the characterization may have strayed toward to stereotypical, but all for a greater purpose. The hectic and warm family dynamic of Charles’ home playing in contrast to the cold and uncomfortable home environment of Joe and his father, showing just how a bereavement changes every aspect of family life. The stoned development-shop assistant, who provides not only a bit of comedy relief, but also much needed transport. The science teacher with a hidden past that holds the key to the alien. The characters of the kids were very believable, and changes in their various relationships as the film progressed – particularly between Charles and Joe – were lovely. As a nice finishing touch, we also get to see the film the kids were producing before the alien mayhem hit, in its entirety. “TOTALLY MINT!!”

Schoolyard friendships, parental confrontations, visits from outer space. It all felt so reminiscent of the films I loved in the eighties. Kyle Chandler as Joe’s Dad, knocking out a member of the shady military forces to steal his uniform and escape from their clutches? Fuck Yes! I could watch stuff like this all day. Half for the harking back to classic family films, half due to a yearning for the years before 1990 when life was simplistic and went on forever.

*Can’t bring myself to repeat ANY line from this here* One Day (2011)

Way back when, in the bookselling days, I must have been one of the only members of staff who didn’t read One Day by David Nicholls. Quite sure this may have something to do with me not really getting the film. I mean, I ‘get’ it, I get the story, and the target audience, and the point of it…I’m just not sure I understand what all the fuss is about. Maybe it is because I didn’t read the book. Or perhaps it’s more likely that I’m a cynical bitch who more often than not hates this kind of bullshit?

Yes, a lot of the locations used for shooting are rather beautiful, Anne Hathaway is as gorgeous as ever if you overlook the appalling accent, and Jim Sturgess pulls off a passable “I may be a suave and shallow bastard, but look at my deeply hurt puppy dog eyes! Look at them!” …but the overriding thought that kept buzzing within my brain throughout the majority of the film – like a thousand angry bees trapped in a bin bag – was simply: IF HE’S SUCH A FUCKING DICKHEAD, WHY DO YOU KEEP HANGING AROUND WAITING FOR THE PRICK? Twenty years? Twenty bloody years?

I mean, I know we all make bad decisions. We all make the wrong choices. The guy who wants you to stay single, while he hangs onto his girlfriend. The guy who waits until you’ve cleaned and redecorated his flat from top to bottom before dumping you. The guy who wants you to change your entire lifestyle in order for his mother to approve. The guy who would rather you didn’t go to college and get an education because you might realize there are better things out there than running at his every call. The guy who ignores the need to pay rent, but recognizes the importance of a spoon rest and a spice rack. The smooth cock who takes two hours to get ready and ruins the night by worrying how his ninety quid shirt looks in the UV light. The swaggering git who takes longer to do his hair than it takes you to cook a fucking three course dinner. The dreamer who books a deposit for a four month trip and then remembers you both have jobs. The one who only ever calls you when they’re lonely. The one who says they can’t handle commitment, who next month settles down and goes on to have three children. The oddbod weirdo who shits on your bathroom floor…

A handful of random examples – some from experience, some not. Unfortunately, the last one is all too true. I’m sure for both sexes, there are multiple scenarios. We all wait for the wrong person for way longer than necessary on occasion, but twenty years? Jesus fucking Christ. And come on, man. Surely the character of Emma Morley – if being played by Anne bloody Hathaway – could’ve done better than the pathetic wannabe stand-up comedian she got saddled with? There’s suspension of disbelief, and then there’s WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS WOMAN?

Twenty years, though. Twenty years for a cut-price Terry Christian who worries about his Calvin Klein underpants being stolen, and his favourite fucking deck shoes, or whatever the over-priced bastards were. Can’t even be arsed to go see his dying mother. What attractive traits the man has. Perhaps a lot of his good points have not made the jump from page to screen as well as his sexual conquests seem to, which is a shame. And this is why I wish I maybe *had* read the book, because having no previous experience of ‘One Day’, Dexter simply comes across as an utter bell end. A bell end who doesn’t deserve the attention, love, adoration and friendship offered to him by a beautiful, intelligent and warm human being. In fact, he deserves fuck all from anyone just for being an arrogant dick. That the friendship between Dexter and Emma lasts as long as it does defies logic. Well, at least the logic of how it is displayed here for a newcomer to their story.

One Day is almost over before – on hitting bottom – Dexter changes into a more likeable version of himself that gives a tiny bit of weight as to why Emma would remain in a state of perpetual doe-eyed unrequited love for so god damn long. Couple of scenes of nice Dex thrown in for good measure, and they get a few years of genuine happiness. Aw, bless. Must. Stop. Pushing. Fingers. Down. Back. Of. Throat.

However, those sickly sweet years of cute teeth-brushing in front of the mirror do nothing to make up for multiple offences. Including a cringe worthy café scene between a greying Dexter and the crappy comedian, the father and son heart to heart in matching pyjamas, and the ‘I gave him a job so I wouldn’t feel bad about stealing his wife’ number. I could go on. I can’t bring myself to. By the time Dexter is scurrying up a hill after his daughter, and telling her ‘tales of Em’, I remember there is a reason I haven’t read the book. Formulaic as fuck.

So all in all. A pile of shite. And not because I’m bitter and twisted, but because it made no sense to me. At all. If I learned anything from viewing One Day it would be: Don’t wait too long for anyone, or anything. YOU COULD GET HIT BY A FUCKING BUS TOMORROW.
Ka-zing!

“Are you gonna slap me in the face with your cock, Dale?” Horrible Bosses (2011)

Under four minutes. Yes. Under four minutes.
That’s how quickly I can get off on Charlie Day. This disturbs me no end. Christ, that’s speedier than Farrell, and a damn site more healthy than throwing a little bit of pain into the mix to aid the process, or indulging in some fucked-up sexual fetish.
I am at a loss. I really am.

Anyway, I’m saving that thought for later. When the whisky has taken hold and the noise from the neighbours gets too much to bear – it’s the weekend, therefore loud pumping bass, children’s cries and some type of xylophone/tambourine hybrid reverberates throughout the walls. Not long to go…

Horrible Bosses then. Jasons Bateman and Sudeikis, along with a jittery Charlie Day deciding to join forces and off the banes of their lives – a trio of bosses from hell. Jesus, I must have been a lucky bitch so far. The closest I’ve got to a boss from hell was a drunken night around 1998 when one tried and failed to hit on me in the worst nightclub in town. Been a good fucking bunch since.

The whole thing was amusing, if it did indeed suffer from having some minor character defects. Mainly the unlikeable part for Sudeikis and Bateman being on autopilot. Kevin Spacey was thoroughly underused in the part of ‘evil psycho’ Dave Harken. Had expected more when they had the man who made the world’s worst boss in Swimming With Sharks. A bit of a let down there. Also deserving of further screen time and exploration was Colin Farrell as cokehead dickwad Bobby Pellit. Okay, I’m biased – and you know that – but Christ, there was a layer of pure gold just waiting to be mined with that crazy bastard. Too little. Jennifer Aniston was okay, but they should have pushed the boat out more on the harassment. Maybe I’m thinking in terms of my own enjoyment, but hey. The squirming and mad-eyed hysteria of Day was fun to watch. Jamie Foxx was good as the money-grabbing Mother Fucker Jones, and there was a great little moment for Ioan Gruffudd as the ‘Wetwork’ guy. Okay, you could see the joke coming a mile off, but it still raised a smile from me.

Major highlight was most likely the entire sorry episode in the home of Farrell’s greenbelt, kung-fu fighting, comb over-sporting legend. From there on in, when the white powder took hold, Charlie Day became my hero. Ah, the memories…

So yeah. It wasn’t epic film making or anything new, but it brightened up my day, gave me more fuel for getting rid of pent up frustration and proved that a comb over on the right man can be sexy as fuck.
Thanks, Seth Gordon. I am more than sure I could fit Day under my bed, or in my pocket. For that, I may forgive your lack of this:

In other news: for every low, there is a high. Ride it bitches. Never had so many ideas flow like crazy in the space of 24 hours. Bring it on, August. Bring it on.

“If you got a problem with it, take it up with Liberace’s ghost.” Scott Pilgrim vs The World (2010)

I put off watching this for so god damn long. Partly because I’d heard so much bad shit about it, partly because I knew watching Ramona Flowers would make me long for my crazy hair again. So I waited till the Cherry Bomb dye made a comeback…

Surprisingly, I didn’t hate it half as much as many people told me I would.

So, it’s far too late in the day to review this shit. What’s the point in that? You’ll either love it or hate it. So instead, here’s thirteen things I learned from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. Thirteen isn’t unlucky, it’s the number of rebirth. Don’t ya know…

1. Kieran Culkin is by far the greatest thing about the entire film.

2. Chris Evans is the shit. His eyebrows ARE SPECTACULAR.

3. It IS possible to dream about someone before you meet them. Found an old dream diary yesterday. Fucking hilarious. Maybe a little heartbreaking too but time will tell, eh?

4. Vegans have special powers. This is true. Only met a few, and they’ve been fucking amazing. Helped out on a short film this year and saw THEE best lighting technician in action. A joy to watch work. A vegan. I rest my case. Maybe I should alter my diet…

5. Female drummers are the fucking bomb.

6. Bollywood devil-women and their master are highly cringeworthy.

7. Jason Schwartzman is sleazy as fuck. No amount of soft focus images of him in that cupcake book I love can ever erase Gideon Gordon Graves. Gideon is still, however, a very good name. My imaginary friend shares the moniker. No shit. He resurfaced last week. Man, I need that crazy spectral Sandra Bullock-loving bastard. Have to start drawing him more often.

8. It is unfortunate that guys sometimes tend to fall in love with their picture of a woman, instead of the actual reality. Likewise, women map out their perfect guy and hate the crap that can often come with them. The tendency to idealise is far too common. Don’t run from it though, deal with it and embrace it. It’s worth it in the end. Even if you have to battle through the evil exes or assorted other demons. If you do really care about someone, it’s worth doing everything within your power to make it work. You just have to remember what started it all in the first place and refuse to let the shit get in the way. Just don’t lose yourself in the process. Keep track of your own life. Self respect, man. Remember that shit. If you don’t have that, it ain’t worth it. Neon swords, bitches.

9. For every Ramona that gets the guy, there is a heartbroken Knives left to pick up the pieces. Yes, love hurts, but I hope to hell she moved on quickly and made a go of it with young Neil. He was a cute one, wasn’t he?

10. Everyone has baggage. Deal with it. That shit doesn’t go away, no matter how much you’d prefer to stick your head in the sand, stick your fingers in your ears and make ‘lalalaaa’ noises.

11. You will always be your own worst enemy. The biggest demon you ever have to face in this world is most likely to be yourself. Beat that fucker down and make peace with it. Manage that battle? Done deal.

12. You know what? Nothing is perfect. Take a fucking chance, walk through that door with someone you don’t entirely know and see where it goes. What’s the worst that can happen?

13. Fuck Scott Pilgrim. When can I have my own Stephen Stills?

Sure there’s much more I should be getting from it, but that shit was fun. Hate me for it if you will, but I loved it. As to the source material? There is only one direction I will point you in:

From Looking Glass Hearts Forever by David Allison…
“…the ability every one of us has to accept the distance between what we feel we need and what we know that we will end up getting from any given person is both sad and wonderful.”

“I’m life, Annie! And I’m biting you in the ass!” Bridesmaids (2011)

“We can watch Cast Away. It’s like Forrest Gump, but on an island”

Bridesmaids then. Nothing like I expected. Nothing like the trailer made it out to be. Overall, a nice fucking surprise of a film. Paul Feig has done something wonderful with a female comedy that has REAL female characters. Written by women, for women, Bridesmaids is a joy.

Centred around Annie (Kristen Wiig) – failed business, failed relationship, money worries, the threat of moving back in with her mother hanging over her, selfish cad of a fuck buddy – the film instantly throws this flaky mess of a woman into the hell of wedding organisation. Out of her depth, and losing grip on a lifelong friendship, Annie falls apart in spectacular fashion. Her sense of unworthiness and self-loathing impacting on everything without her realising. Even when given a chance of happiness, she manages to fuck it all up. You’d be forgiven for wanting to shout at the screen, if she wasn’t so god damn likeable.

That’s where Bridesmaids wins. Everyone knows an Annie. She’s far too fucking real. Hell, many people watching it will get half way through and realise they *are* Annie. Christ, let’s all get bladdered and scream out Wilson Phillips together while our lives fall apart in front of our eyes, eh? Screw that, let’s all find a Megan for a best buddy. Crikey, that woman has more balls than half the men I know. She’s fucking fabulous.

Seemingly perfect women with perfect lives are what make Annie feel like a failure, only for the cracks in these ideal worlds to come out when the shit hits the fan. Funny, smart and touching? Didn’t expect that at all. Bridesmaids is much darker than you think it would be, with all the bitchiness and disappointment of real life left bare for all to see. There is a particularly memorable moment when Annie – having lost her bakery – bakes and ices one single, beautiful cupcake. Only to look at it sadly before eating it. Nothing needs to be said, you see all the effort this woman put into business only for her hopes and dreams to crash and burn. Bridesmaids is full of these moments for Kristen Wiig, be they flashing looks of hurt and betrayal, or blatant insecurity in the presence of those she deems better than herself. Yeah, it’s billed as a comedy, but often Wiig’s facial expressions are quite heartbreaking.

Light relief is provided by Melissa McCarthy as Megan – bolshy, sure of herself, and ready to climb the nearest single man she sets her sights on “like a tree” – and the drunken revelations of Disney Princess Becca (Ellie Kemper) and Rita (Wendy McLendon-Covey) as they bemoan the state of their marriages. Rose Byrne is on great form as Helen, new best friend to bride to be Lillian (Maya Rudolph), pushing Annie out of the picture and outdoing her at every turn. The type of woman you’d want to punch, but first ask where she got her hair done and make sure you found out what foundation she used.

It’s somewhat life affirming to see less-than-perfect women struggle through friendships and relationships in the way they do. Yeah, maybe it’s a bit harder to watch when you know you’re the fucked-up one with the disaster of a life in your particular group of friends – but that makes it all the more enjoyable. Because even after all the shit you’ve been through, they’re still your friends. They forgive you for being a dick, they don’t care that you’re always broke, and they never judge you for your disastrous relationship choices. Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo get that. They nailed this shit. Interested to see what either of them write next.

I have a new hero. Annie Walker. If she can fuck everything up so badly, hit bottom and still find a happy ending? There really IS hope for us all.

Until then? Sing it, bitches!

There used to be a lot of stuff here.