Trailer Breakdown - Eat Pray Love

Brimming, toothless guru talks in fortune cookie messages whilst getting in on some palm fondling action.

Said palm fondling action induces a come-hither look from the smiling loon.

"Me curly-haired lothario man. Me make fire to fry tofu burgers on."

"Me unstable and psychotic woman. Me think long and hard as to where curly haired lothario can ram-jam his tofu burgers."

"Me curly haired lothario man number two. Me part of rebound relationship while curly haired lothario man number one is crying into his barbeque out of misery."

"Me all sad and shit now. "

ME. ME. ME. BLAH. BLAH. BLAH. ME. ME. ME.

Repeat until the end of film.

Favourite Female Characters: Sarah Connor

Sarah Connor

Transformed from the hyper permed squealing bar wench of the first film, into a walking, gun toting pair of biceps in the sequel, Sarah Connor unleashed the one-woman-army without slumping into the pouting, backflipping pin-up of a stereotype.

Huffing and puffing like the Marlborough man and scowling bitterly about the apocalypse, she opened up a full can of whoop ass onto the metamorphosising blubber of an android and gets all self-help book optimistic about the future of the human race. Aw.

The Girl Who Played With Fire

The Girl Who Played With Fire

Plot: Computer-hacking, fist-throwing goth with bull attire nose ring gets framed like a family potrait for three murders and unleashes her vigilante inner Monte Cristo onto the sex trafficking world.

Watch out for: The gratuitous lesbian sex scene, the wall-of-a-man archetype blonde euro-trash villain and the entirity of Sweden seemingly having the same ringtone.

Overall opinion: All in all, this film ranks as enjoyable.There's plenty of room for improvement, but I'd still rather watch a chain-smoking taser-toting vigilante than Ingmar Bergman's cape-donning death move his bishop to B3 for a few hours.

Playlist

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven claws

The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large-scale revolution until there's a personal revolution, on an individual level. It's got to happen inside first. You can take away a man's political freedom and you won't hurt him - unless you take away his freedom to feel. That can destroy him. That kind of freedom can't be granted. Nobody can win it for you.
                                                                                                                                       Jim Morrison

In the Heat of the Night Review

The first time I saw In the Heat of the Night, I was in my playdough-and-sugary-toothpaste years. Bearing in mind that at that age, my primary interests in life were lego, crayola pencils and satisfying my next sugar high, my soul shrivelled out of boredom faster than Usain Bolt on crack.

But having watched it again as the walking tantrum-throwing hormone that I was as in my glorious teenage years, I rather liked it actually.

Plot: Ray Charles scowls the theme tune. The uniformed peeping tom discovers a dead one decorating the pavement. Rod Steiger appears, chewing his gum so enthusiastically it has probably been churned to liquid. The peeping tom sets his sights on Mr Tibbs to scratch his police order claws against. Mr Tibbs turns out to be a Philedelphian detective just trying to slug his ass home after visiting his mother. Gets his arms wrangled into working amongst the as-inviting-as-a-locked-door Southerners to bust out the Sherlock on the murder case and wrench his way through a plentiful supply of greaseball rednecks.

Twilight Drinking Game

If you manage to squeeze even a nanosecond of pleasure out of the viewing, develop a lusting for the pubescent teenagers or start hoarding enough twilight memorabilia to stock a shop,  drink bleach.

Favourite Russian Film: They Fought For Their Motherland

Sergei Bondarchuck is a director most associated with his butt-numbing, insomnia-curing beast that is 'War and Peace'. But to give the third fingered salute to the masses, I count the cream of his celluloid crop not to be the money-guzzling Tolstoy extravaganza but the underseen and underated world war two film: 'They Fought For Their Motherland'.

With it's star speckled cast, intelligent and witty script, powerful blood-curdling scenes and a show-stopping oscar-worthy peformance from Vasiliy Shukshin...this is one of the rare Bondarchuk film that I can actually watch without forcement by gunpoint.

Music Playlist

A one-album god of a band. Anyone else think that Miles Kane looks like a leaner, indie-fied less-follically generous version of Puyol?

Favourite Female Characters: Part 1

Jackie Brown - Quentin Tarantino blew a wet one to the blaxpoitation genre and created one mother-effin thick-skinned diva in the process. Acting out the tired and desperate stewardess who refuses to shrivel up and weep like a leaking damn, Jackie Brown toots the girl-power horn and manages to outwit everyone left, right and centre.

In an industry where strong female characters are defined by knuckle-busting, leather-donning senoritas blasting out high punches and kapows,  Jackie Brown is breath of fresh air in a sewer factory. Whilst not squeezing her generous ass into an animal print suit and brandishing out the automated weapons, she's got more cojones than the combined total of Michael Bay's pouting car-grinding broads.

Rear Window - Stella

Because her wise-ass bowfull of wisdom character trumps the frills and ribbon of Grace Kelly's beauty. James Stewart can keep his belle of the ball - the luckiest chump of the film is whoever that female-yoda nurse donned the veil for.

Stella: Intelligence! Nothing has caused the human race so much trouble as intelligence.