Quite why a Dutchman should concern himself with producing a wobbly picture of Paxman with a cat on his head I have no idea, but concern himself he did.
It reminds me of the animation I once did of Wim Kok with an ocelot up his arse: I must dig it out some time. (At least I think that was the title.)
Initial reviews of new German Nazi comedy Mein Führer – Die wirklich wahrste Wahrheit über Adolf Hitler (My Führer – The Truly Truest Truth About Adolf Hitler) are surprisingly poor. You’d have thought a comedy about Hitler made by Germans would be a hoot, but according to Damien McGuinness on Radio 4′s Front Row, the laughs mostly revolve around the Nazis being fat and falling over a lot.
Here’s the trailer so you can make up your own mind:
(There’s a YouTube video here that you won’t see on the RSS feed. View it on the website instead.)
Some of my greatest pleasure in life comes from the 1- and 2-star reviews of the Guardian film critic, Peter Bradshaw. The man’s inventiveness in the field of destructive criticism appears to know no bounds. I am therefore delighted to present the Blogrot Worst of 2006 Film Quiz. The object is quite simple: match the exquisite put down to the film at which it was aimed. There’s one 3-starrer in there too for good luck. All excerpts are taken from Peter Bradshaw’s reviews of 2006.
Excerpts
It is the biggest case of miscasting in history. Anyone, anyone, would have been better in this part. Steven Seagal would have been better. Janette Krankie would have been better.
This story could go on for 104 minutes or 104 aeons and it would make no difference.
One of the funniest and most astringent books of recent times has been turned into a film so embarrassingly awful I felt like putting a brown paper bag over my head and emitting a high-pitched keening sound.
Her final moments in this film are so hammy that any vegetarians present will come out in a rash. The prefix “over-” in “over-acting” doesn’t quite cover it. Her shriekingly tragic fate was something that I certainly won’t forget in a hurry. Many people in the audience had to be helped out of the auditorium, given a cup of hot, sweet tea and covered with those Bacofoil blankets. I myself will need years of therapy to get over it.
This treacly second world war drama is the sort of flaccid silliness that you’d expect to see on television with “ITV4″ in the corner of the screen.
There are some films so awful, of such insidious dishonesty and mediocrity, that their existence is a kind of scandal. [...] Just thinking about it gives me a headache.
These thesps look like the most terrifying water-based situation they have ever actually faced is when the Jacuzzi isn’t warm enough in their suite at the Four Seasons. XXXX, in particular, could do with a pair of waterwings, and he gives us every reason to suspect that his tummy scrapes the bottom of the pool when he assumes a horizontal position.
Chased for days and days, they do not need to eat or sleep or use sentences that ordinary human beings would use.
As the film continued, I personally began to bow my head in humility and self-knowledge. My pen slipped from my nerveless fingers and hot teardrops fell on my notepad, like a pure and cleansing rain, blurring the vindictive remarks I had scribbled. I was ashamed … ashamed … that I had ever given this incredible idiot anything approaching a good review.
One per cent of your time watching this may be spent being startled by some vivid and disturbing images. The other 99% will be spent thinking: what the hell is going on?
Never has a title been more horribly at odds with the way you’re actually going to feel while watching the movie.
Embarrassingly, she is made to say “loo” to show off some real limeyspeak. Perhaps she can be grateful she wasn’t given bad teeth.
Enough to make me want to put a brown paper bag over my head and whinny like a tormented pony.
As Sigmund Freud once said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a film with the silly but entertaining title of Snakes on a Plane, is just a silly but entertaining film about snakes on a plane.
Amazon should ban people from leaving comments and ratings before a product is actually available. This would seem to me to be plain common sense. I mean honestly, just look at some of this crap:
It’ll be amazingness unrivalled!
It’ll be impossible for it to be bad – this is Harry Potter we’re talking about, guys, haha … it’s going to be GREAT! No question.
of course its going to be good
I know of many other people who are sure that Harry Potter and the ???????? will deserve five stars, to find them just type “harry potter fan fiction” into google. I got 1,950,000 results and its probably still growing. click on any harry potter fan fiction site, an look at the lists of authors. Probably every single person there is of the opinion that book 7 will deserve 5 stars and will rate it accordingly as and when it comes out.
the end…
I’m very tempted to give five stars to it, because it’s bound to be great, but it wouldn’t be ABSOLUTELY honest, would it? So i tried just not to rate it, but that’s not allowed. SO, i have to resort to giving it 5 stars…
And just for balance:
dont get me wrong
the book will get five stars from me it will be awsome but the title will get zero
Grade-A nuts, the lot of them. They should be taken out and shot, or at least taught how to spell and punctuate.
Update:More Potter lunacy, this time from Royal Mail. Don’t be surprised when you hear your local post office is closing down this spring. The postal services have spending priorities just like everyone else, it’s just that theirs are informed by the logic of a madman.
I’ve just finished reading You Ponce by Lenny ‘The Fuckles’ Maguire. I’ve always poo-pooed those books by gangsters in the past but that was clearly snobbery on my part as it’s actually surprisingly well written. The guy has a peerless grasp of metaphor, for example often using the word ‘machete’ where you or I might say bon mot.
He was clearly trying it on so without further ado I cut him down to size with a well-chosen machete.
I thoroughly recommend the book to anyone as it’s a jolly good read. Next up: ‘Ave That You Twat by Jimmy the Hatchet.
Went to see the infant school Christmas play this morning. The director was clearly a classic surrealist in the tradition of Dali. Anyone who can introduce Mr Incredible and a team of scorpions into the Christmas story without so much as flinching has to be some kind of genius.
Not that I’m taking anything away from the performances, mind. The guy who played Scooby Doo really made the role his own.
Ho Ho Hobgoblin! Santa on his sleigh as re-imagined by Year 2
A day of looking at Mrs Osbourne’s evil witchy face (or even just half of it) was too much for me yesterday. Something had to be done.
The girls were more interested in watching last night’s Strictly Come Dancing and were pretty resistant to coercion, but once I hinted that Father Christmas might get involved I soon got some cooperation.
He also has a £14,000 letter from WWI, special healing hands and Miss World for a daughter. I’m telling you, this guy puts the RRROCK! back into rock star.
Rumour has it that Chris has written a special version of his hit song Lady In Red for his little alien, entitled Lady in John Hurt:
Lady In John Hurt
I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I’ve never seen you shine so bright
Mm-mm mm-mmmm
I’ve never seen so many men have to hold me down while I died
With you bursting out from inside
Then running off to hide
I have never even really noticed
How you look just like a horse’s cock with teeth
You’re beyond belief
The Lady in John Hurt is hatching in me, little freak
There’s nobody here
It’s just you and me, and-some-blokes-and-Sigourney (Weaver)
But I hardly know this beauty in my insides
I’ll never forget the way you made my chest burst open and all my blood squirt out
I didn’t say it was finished yet but it’ll be done for Christmas.
That’s the title of my forthcoming book, a sort of “what if?” confession to a crime I was accused of in childhood but always denied. My accusers have never accepted my innocence but this way I’ll have the last laugh. In the book I reveal that, had I been the actual perpetrator of this incident, I would have made sure the evidence got properly melted down, wouldn’t have left those gloves covered in bits of Meccano in my car, and would never have engaged in a high-speed pursuit with my Dad like that on national TV.
I would say more but my publicist has urged me not to before the book is out and I’ve been on a few chat shows.
I just signed up for MySpace – not for one of their poxy horrible “blog” things, you understand, purely for experimentation purposes. Anyway, you’ve got to admire their efforts to keep the web free of colour blind people. Just imagine that – the colour blind preying on your kiddies and everything. It’s enough to make the flesh creep.
Update: It’s all a con! Celebrity colour blind Dairy-Arse is on there! I take it all back: MySpace is a nest of vipers. The colour blind are EVERYWHERE. Be vigilant.
Dairy-Arse hatching his evil colour blind plans online yesterday.