Whats a shark?! MOVIE REVIEWS

Variety, as some chickens cluck, is the spice of life, and every now and then it’s nice to break routine and man off into one’s uncharted territory. So, just yesterday, no sorry the day before… one in which I DIDN’T hafta drag my tired hide into work, I figured I’d skip out on m' morning fluoxetine and bus into Carindale Plaza, to catch of slice of eye-pie what’s fresh outta Hollywood’s eazy bake oven. By arrival, I had a good twenty mintues before the movie started so I 1st wandered into the video store and made a quick purchase (to be discussed below). Elevator-ed my way to the Cineplex, fuck you escalator. The line was short, because the 12-17/y/o’s were in school, and the elderly evidently weren’t able to summon the will + fortitude to take to the two flight of stairs what led up to the ticket lobby, god bless ‘em. I got to show just as the curtains were unfolding, frozen coke in hand and ticket stub hangin’ out my back pocket. Well shit.. Note to self for future reference; show up to flick at least twenty minutes after scheduled start-time... Stuck amongst rows of bored lookin’ couples and dumb old ladies what can’t control their rancid hell spawn (please refer to tubal ligation ASAP), I was left to endure some thirty minutes of pre-feature trailers for the likes of “Hellboy II” (hey this looks pretty sick, actually) and an animated Star Wars feature. A cartoon fucking Star Wars; directed by that corpse-rapin’ nerd George “cocks sucker” Lucas. Fortunately I had my mp3 player w/ me, so was able to blast “Gospel Crusade” at full concentrate, much to the chagrin of the fat-headed trolls who’re cloggin’ the seats around my immediate perimeter. Fuck those asssholes, my bitta’ noise was but crumbs’a COOKIES compared to those gosh darn brats what we ALL had to deal with. This is one little mutant in particular proved something of a crutch to the whole movie going experience; whinin’ and waddlin’ up and down the aisles as a pertinent reminder of why many prefer the “I’ll just wait til it’s out on video” route.

THE DARK KNIGHT (2008) Dir: Christopher Nolan
Anyway, D.K. was the picture on show this afternoon, which for those of you who don’t care is the continuation of Chris Nolan’s revamped “Batboi” saga. It’s a good flick, and one entirely (and thankfully) unsuitable for toddlers, or most good-hearted souls for that matter. For depressive pricks like me however, it were more refreshing than the coke to see a superhero flick that isn’t afraid of feeling a little hopeless. Shit’s bleak. The two central characters which represent even a semblance of hope are killed off and/or tuned to villain. Gotham’s civilians are in turn either anesthetized drones bordering on lunacy or hopeless fools desperate for a “hero” or saving grace, and appear to be in about equal numbers as the city’s crims, vills and genuine psychopaths (one scene literally splits these two into separate factions, with neither group coming across as more respectable, stable or upright). There is a grim undercurrent to the entire film, certain scenes drip with a melancholic creep what’s accentuated by moody, swirling camera work. In spite of this the film is still rife w/ humor, whether intentional (civilian reaction to spectacular events ie; man dropping his hogey after batcycle springs forth from battank) or not so much (namely Christian Bale’s put-on “Batvoice”, which reminds one of the Lindsay Bluth character in Arrested Development during those episodes when her voice went to shit). Also, Alfie Caine’s one-liners never fail to invoke a kind of British limey cunt wit that some might find amusing.

The acting is top notch, if not expectedly wooden in parts. Bale portrays Bruce Wayne as an impulsive erudite billionaire, with that same kinda snarling cockiness that made his American Psycho character such an enduringly unlikeable prick, and he “fills out” the batsuit in a manner what puts that rodent Keaton to shame. Gary Oldman, one of America ’s greatest living assholes...sorry, actors imoh, is a proper HOOT in his role as pro-vigilante, gritty NYPD BLUE-esque police lieutenant turned commissioner (spoiler alert!). Morgan Freeman exudes the same world-weary dignity what he has brought to every semi dramatic role of his post-SE7EN. His token-black-mentor-with-voice-as-smooth-as-fine-aged-port schtick may get some folks’ collective goat, but the shoe doth fit, and who could blame the man for merely wearin’ it?! Maggie Gylenhall is perfectly adept as smart damsel drawn between two headstrong beaus, and is considerably better looking than Katie Holmes (am I right guys’?!). Not to blow smoke out a dead man’s asshole, but it’d honestly be a disservice to not make mention of H. Ledger’s bat-shit interpretation of the Joker as a daddy hatin’, vaudeville-styled anarchist; who was set loose by the mob to take out Batman but can’t in the name of proper lunacy do it ‘cause dude just seems to relish in fuckin’ w/ Batty’s mind as much as he does causing mass carnage via hospital explosions and televised death threats. “He just wants to watch the world burn”, Old-man remarks at one point. His sole motivation to plummet the city in a climate of fear + nihilism; and just fuck shit up in general. Makes for a genuinely threatening concept fer a psychotic super-villain, don’it?? Joke’s manic, twitching presence provides a wicked counterbalance to the melancholic grimness of Gotham, and when the two collide the film is splattered in an unnerving, deliberate psychosis. A role to die for? Maybe not, but one what sure makes fer good viewin’. The film looks grate, with Gotham coming across as a crushingly grim and oppressive environment in which nightfall apparently last some 20+ hours; the locale for a wealth of great ACHTUNG sequences what’re spread across various elaborate set-pieces. Throughout the film dialogue alternates between realistic yada-yada blah-blah and general comic-book rhetoric w/ a bit a weight ‘n truth to it (which is again, heavy on the negatory).

Sorry to persist w/ my musical geekery, but I just HAVE to make mention of the soundtrack, which was split between well done chiming drones in sync with appropriately tense scenes (not unlike Johnny Greenwood’s top work in “Their Will Be Blood”) and the orchestral dreck that you have to expect from a flick like this. Really though, who watches this shit for the score??

RETURN TO WATERLOO (1986) Dir: Ray Davies
Adversely, music is central to this next thing I wanna talk about, ‘ticularly that of the Kinks’ Ray Davies. That’s “Return to Waterloo”, referred to on the blurb as a veritable “cult classic”, and I’m right embarrassed that it have taken me so long to hip to it, having only previously heard of it in fleeting/passing. In any case, there she was, layin’ strawn out on top of piles’ve other forgotten titles in a wood crate labeled “STOCK MUST GO!” (evidently it wasn’t the most popular item in-store, as three previous price markdowns would suggest). A proper bargain methunk, but it weren’t w/o a nervous hesitation that I sat down to Ray Davies’ 1986 directorial debut, produced near two decades removed from the last decent Kinks LP (Muswell Hillbillies).

The film, much like Davies post-Muswell output, is a deeply flawed product; an existential (ughh..) study in societal dread (ughhh..) that mirrors some of the Kinks’ most pertinent lyrical discourse; sexual tension, social alienation + pressure to “conform”, personal nostalgia etc. If any of this reads as pretentious it’s because this film IS, incredibly so in parts, while others it is (unintentionally) fuckin’ hilarious, occasionally deeply disturbing and at it’s worst, just plain boring. Certain scenes will test both you sobriety and yr patience. In terms of plot, it follows a lonesome middle aged man on his return trip to Waterloo station, who may or may not be a suspected multiple rapist under a city-wide man hunt. Chance encounters are shown with a host of everyday London commuters, freaks (Tim Roth plays a punk what’s like a tamed down version of his “Made in Britain” character) and norms alike, as well as extensive vignettes which explore his own numb, tortured psyche and mundane past.

Much of the film is expressed through the soundtrack, which of course is comprised of tracks from Davies’ 1986 LP which shares the same title (I should make mention of the fact that the record is fuckin’ horrible, with old man Ray’s vocals what’ve aged like dairy product dribbled over bland R.E.M styled 80’s pop/rock and lame synthy wah wah), as well as spontaneous guest sing-along’s from the commuters, where much of the flix’ humor is derived. Cue copious yappin’ about the no good, stud covered “wave of the future” Vs. the good ole’ civilized working-class, in a manner what’s no more or less cloying here than it were on “The Wall”. Waterloo.. were filmed in a late-night-low-budget-Brit-TV kind of way, which is not helped by a notably grainy DVD transfer, and unmastered soundtrack. The overall effect is something similar to garage level (ha!), low cost digital television. In all cerealness, I’m having trouble trying to figure out whether this warranted its six dollar price (though I can’t say I weren’t duly warned), if at least on the strength of it’s sheer WHAT THE FUCK?! qualities. I seriously doubt I’d ever feel inclined to watch this “classic” again, least not alone and sober….

Delayed EAT SKULL review coming over the next few days.