Consider that a divorce!
A blog about film, tv and culture. And whatever other random thoughts I recall.
A blog about Film, TV, Culture and whatever else that distracts me during the day
I know what you're thinking.
Yet another blog. Yet another frustrated soul crying out for someone to recognise their voice and deem them worthy. I bet he's in his late 20s/early 30s, probably holds some sort of journalism degree, which is completely redundant in his day job, and judging by the title of the blog probably retains an adolescent fascination with Arnie films.
Henry Rollins circa 1990...taking offence to a mirror.
A couple of weekends ago, in the company of some very good folk, I had the pleasure of seeing notorious punk rock front man and spoken word artist Henry Rollins at Belfast's Empire Pub, part of his latest UK tour.
Henry Rollins is a name I've been familiar with for a few years, mostly from his occasional acting roles in films like 'Johnny Mnemonic', 'Heat' and TV series 'Sons of Anarchy', but not being a big punk rock fan, his origins as a frontman for both 'Black Flag' and 'The Rollins Band' were unknown to me as were his numerous spoken word gigs and recordings that he's performed over the past 20 years.
Rollin's raucous reputation, stemming from his punk days when he would occasionally get into scuffles with over-eager fans and police, is backed up by his appearance, short crew cut hair, well-built, and clad in black.
Within minutes of the show starting, infront of a 150 or so people, it becomes apparent that Rollins has lived a very interesting life, doing anything that's offered to him as a self-confessed "whore for work", as long as it intrigues him.
He's also calmed down and the image of the angry, vitriol spitting punk legend is no longer entirely accurate. Although still angry, especially at the George Bush Jr presidential legacy (which he eviscorates in a review of Bush's heavily ghost-written autobiography 'Decision Points'), the absurdity of many of the things that piss him off are ripe for a humorous telling.
Wardrobe costs kept to a minimum.
Riffing on his life on the road with Black Flag during his formative years, trying to get through gigs without shedding too much blood and getting paid enough to buy a candy bar or two, to his most recent trips to India (cooking and eating rats guts for the viewing pleasure of National Geographic), and appreciating the comprehensive approach of the Indian aviation industry to inflight security, tormenting his state-approved guide in North Korea by picking holes in the face of wall-to-wall propaganda , and even the disparity in effort made by Belfast's male and female sexes to going out on a saturday night. The central link is the man himself and the random opportunities he finds himself being offered.
Audience interaction is kept to a minimum, so there's no fear of being picked on in the front row (which was lucky as we were right by the stage), and the most interesting parts of the spoken word were the observations on US culture drawn from his visit to supermarket chain Costco, and the quantity of irritation Rollins mines to good effect. It's scatter gun in its content, with Rollins jumping from event, but the conviction he puts behind his observations keeps you with him.
If you've a chance to see him live in the future, I'd encourage taking the opportunity. This isn't 'stand-up' but one man's thoughtful views on his career, US and international culture and all the things that still make him mad after 50 years. 19mins of the Belfast gig below for those interested.
It was with a troubled brow that I took myself to the cinema on Monday past, and availing of the belfast telegraph's free cinema ticket offer (which I heartily endorse to the Norn Iron folk) sat down to see Conan The Barbarian 2011.
Based on the Robert E Howard novels from the 1930s, the original
Conan The Barbarian holds a special place in my heart, and despite
being almost 30 years old remains a classic fantasy film that introduced
the world to the 'Austrian Oak', unless you're one of the lucky 6
people to have seen 'Hercules In New York'...
Aside from the obvious oscar worthy performance of Arnie, the
original's cast included some fantastic character actors in James Earl
Jones and Max von Sydow, who really bring 'the acting' to the production
and invest a certain gravitas, and it is to director John Milius'
credit that he ensures such performances don't jar with the fantastical
setting. A truly wonderful soundtrack by composer Basil Poledouris also
plays it part in carrying the film from beginning to end, that is simply
epic in its scope.
It's cheap looking in places (witness the monstrous 60ft snake,
made out of papermache, that Arnie 'battles' in a sacrificial pit) and
it's politics, heavily influenced by Nietche's 'that which doesn't kill
you, makes you stronger' philosophy, have been interpreted as a right
wing salute to the benefits of having a bigger sword than your enemy.
However...Arnie does knockout a camel, whilst acting 'drunk'. Wonderful.
Que comedic face dunk into soup bowl
This remake has been on the cards
for over 15 years with various script being passed around Hollywood,
varying from King Conan in 2003, which would have brought Arnie back to
the role as an older Conan, weary of power and presumably wearing a few
more clothes, to a PG shot-for-shot updated remake of the original film.
Which brings me to Conan (2011). The film starts reasonably
strongly with the birth of Conan (Jason Momoa 'Game of Thrones') on the
battlefield, with his father (Ron Perlman 'Hellboy') forced to carry out
what can best be discribed as a medieval caesarian operation in order
to save his newborn. The symbolism is sledge hammered home. Conan is
born for battle. Year's pass, Conan is shown as young boy, a born
warrior/psychopath, whose wildness his father struggles to temper.
Morgan
Freeman of all people narrates random sections of these opening scenes,
but is neither heard or seen from again after the first 15 minutes,
presumably to go cash the cheque for a new summer house, this glorrified
voiceover paid for. I sound bitter, but even after 'The Bucket List' I
still somehow associate Morgan Freeman with a certain quality of film,
and his involvement is like sticking a Ferrari badge on a Fiat Panda.
At this point the plot follow's the original fairly
closely, Conan's village is attacked, his father murdered by evil
warlord/sorceror Zym (Stephen Lang 'Avatar') and he's left to wander the
land as a bandit for 20 years until the opportunity for revenge becomes
apparent. The plot is wafer thin, Zym is weak and even when he
*spoiler* finds the magic mask of doom that he murdered Conan's father to find, it doesn't actually empower him in anyway, and if anything, makes him completely useless. Lang can do better, as he proved as the war-mongering general in Avatar
or the psycho serial killer in the excellent Michael J Fox/James Woods
buddy-buddy flick 'The Hard Way' (which is well worth watching as the
chemistry between the two actors is excellent, and James Woods manages
to swear at a prodigious rate throughout!)
James Woods would have improved Conan immensely.
The representation of the character is admitedly closer
to Howard's creation, but there's no charm to him, which Arnie's version
had despite or, perhaps because of, the ludicrous accent and Mr Olympia
physique. Momoa has also tried to do something different in that he's a
rogue, but comes across as a bit of a weasel, who only looks to avenge
his father because of circumstance, not by desire.
This film is unbelieveably gory, to the point that it's
actually
off-putting, with each scene attempting to outdo the previous one, with
arms, legs, heads and noses all being lopped off, throats slashed and
skulls smashed against marble floors. The director Michael Nispel,
responsible for remakes of 'Friday The 13th' and 'The Texas Chainsaw
Masacre', has produced a brutal, one-dimensional rehash of the original
film, that fails to build a story around the opening section of the film
and settles instead for mindless brutality.
Even if you have no desire to ever watch either version of this
film, due to a lack of Jimmy Choo shoes or period costume (unless you
count loin clothes and horned helmets), you should check out the
ingenious 'Conan The Musical', which brilliantly summarizes the whole story in under 3 minutes, incorporates actual dialogue and is just a damn good musical number.
And if you liked Momoa better than Arnie..."then to hell wit you!!!"
It's been a summer of comic book adapations, over-long sequels to films based on Disney rides or 80s kids toys, and bro/ho-mance flicks, with a distinct lack of quality cinema fare. To date the one genre woefully malnourished this summer has been the action thriller, as more kid-friendly films have dominated the cinema listings.
Last year saw Stallone rage against the dying of the light, with 'The Expendables', which while not great, at least provided some entertainment from over-the-top explosions, cheesy dialogue and a close-up study into the effects of human growth hormone (HGH) on the human body (seriously check out Stallone and Micky Rourke's massive, claw like fingers).
Mickey agreed on theclear resemblance of Sly's fingers to a pack of Denny's pork sausages
Slightly higher up on the 'brow' scale, 'Inception', directed by the excellent Christopher Nolan (The Dark Knight) also proved that a smart story didn't have to be sacrificed in order to add more squibs, and was one of the highlights of last year for me.
In contrast, this year we've had the stupid blockbuster action film in 'Fast Five', yet another 'Fast and Furious' sequel, notable only for having almost-but-just-not-quite action stars The Rock and Vin Diesel stare each other down repeatedly in full on homoerotic fashion. Nothing wrong with that, but you wouldn't catch Arnie engaging in such a display...
...'cough'.
With neither The Rock or Vin Diesel delivering, it may just take a woman to do 'a man's job' with the first trailer for 'Haywire', an upcoming action film starring MMA fighter/legitimate badass/extremely hot Gina Carano, which looks, quite frankly, fantastic.
That the main protagonist for an action film is female isn't exactly new, Cynthia Rothrock carved out a name for herself as the 'female Chuck Norris' in the 80s/90s, and even Angelina Jolie has tried her hand at the genre a number of times, most recently with 'Salt'.
The difference I see with 'Haywire' is 1) Unlike Anglina Jolie, Gina Carano has the martial arts background that adds authenticity to her moves and to the physicality needed in an action film as opposed to numerous stunt doubles and, 2) This film is directed by Steven Soderbergh, director of OSCAR winning 'Traffic', 'Oceans 11' and 'Erin Brockovich'.
In short if this man could get a award-winning performances out of Julia Roberts and Catherine Zeta Jones, then he for damned sure can get a passable performance out of Carano!
The support cast includes the likes of Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas (with a quite frankly tremendous beard) and the great Bill Paxton. That is too good a cast to be wasted on your typical, straight-to-dvd action film, and with Soderbergh directing, there's every reason to be hopeful if you're a bit of an action junkie.
Check out the trailer and let the old school gravelly-voiced voiceover guy lead the way.
'Haywire' is scheduled for UK release in January 2012, and will be well worth seeing, if only for Banderas rocking the beard.
Personal hero (except for the rabid cocaine use and spousal abuse) and 80s action star Jean Claude Van Damme is continuing his career rehabilitation in time honoured fashion, appearing in a new Coors Light campaign. The ads, which poke fun at JCVD's eccentric character and his image from halcyon days (right down to the Hard Target mullet), are aimed squarely at the 25-40 male demographic with a penchant for watery beer!
I was drinking the Coors, but I was thinking of Chimay
While I may not think much of the product (The true benefits of globalisation are clearly imported Chinese, German and South American bottled beers), its nice to see JCVD not taking himself too seriously. His other recent projects include yet another Universal Soldier film and his own UK reality TV show called, imaginatively, "Van Damme Behind Closed Doors" where he leaps around film sets, gets pissed in night clubs and beats his daughter's boyfriend with a bamboo cane. Compelling viewing.
When it comes to random celebrity alcohol endorsements though, Van Damme doesn't quite reach the levels of strangness achieved by his fellow action heros, especially the legendary, honorary patron of this wee blog. I don't know what the Japanese put in their minature booze, but if they can do this to Arnie, I'd avoid the bingo clubs in downtown Tokyo... The governator's open approach to Japanese imports was most welcome
I was going to use the blog today to lament the sad news of the separation of this blog's patron saint, Arnold Schwarzenegger and his wife Maria Shriver. The timing of which shows an eery prescience to the beginning of this blog. I'm not saying I'm a prophet to be worshipped. I'm just saying.
What's knocked me off this irreverent train of thought? A wall mural on the Newtownards road area of Belfast. A bloody wall mural.
To those of you who have visited Northern Ireland, the wall murals in and around the traditionally loyalist and republican areas of Belfast (and other towns) have become a tourist attraction, which thousands of visitors coming to take pictures of the ominous, shadowy figures clutching their machine guns tightly whilst proclaiming fealty to their particular religio-political cause. For a generation it's been almost impossible to drive anywhere in Belfast without passing a handful of these, as each mural signified the affiliation of that area to a particular terror group, or the presence of its members within it.
Since the IRA and UVF/UDA ceasefires in the late 90s and throughout the (comparatively) peaceful 2000s, many of the aggressive murals depicting gunmen and celebrating the violence of 'the troubles' have been replaced by many inoffensive, pro-active, cross-community designs hinting at a brighter future ahead for the province.
One such mural celebrated the victory of local Irish League club Glentoran, over the Detroit Cougars in 1913, winning the Vienna Cup. I've passed this mural countless times in the last 6 years, and have always thought it a very positive celebration of the football club, which has deep roots in this part of east Belfast.
It ain't pretty but consider the subtle shades around the Goliath crane
Coming home today I noticed that the design of this mural has changed somewhat, with less emphasis on international football, and more focus on blokes with guns.
I'd have got a better picture if it hadn't been for those pesky masked loyalist painters!
On the opposite side of the road, two masked men were busy painting another wall with a similar 70s gunman motif, on top of a gantry, in broad daylight, on a busy road. This may not ultimately be significant. It's just a wall after all, and what's two new murals depicting a show of strength to a loyalist group in the grand scheme of things.
It's just with the recent rise of violence in Northern Ireland, with high profile killings and attempted murders of policemen and rumblings or internecine violence within republican and loyalist circles, this is a simple but stark reminder of the savage tribalism that has blighted this country/province/piece of ground with soil and trees (delete as per political stance) for too long.
The hype around Grindhouse, the double feature homage to 70s exploitation films directed by Robert Rodgriuez and Quentin Tarantino, didn't really live up to expectations on its release in 2007. What was intended to be a 3 hour double feature was broken up into their individual parts and released seperately, 'Planet Terror' by Rodriguez (daft but entertaining), and 'Death Proof' by Tarantino (daft but mind-numbingly dull).
As part of the hype surrounding the film, a series of spoof adverts were released along with the theatrical and dvd versions of the films hyping other fictional exploitation features. One of those, 'Machete' was made into a full length film in 2010, and now another, 'Hobo with a Shotgun' is due for release in the summer. Made in Canada, and costing $3m, 'Hobo' looks like it is going to be a straight-to-dvd release, but at least it provides a starring for one of my favourite 'under-appreciated' actors of all time Rutger Hauer (The Hitcher).
The latest 'Big Issue' promotional campaign had taken a slightly dark turn
Hauer made his name in his native Holland in the early 70s, working with his compatriot Paul Verhoeven, who directed him in a number of films like 'Turkish Delight' and 'Soldier of Orange', both of which I'm keen to see. Hauer is better known for the Hollywood films he acted in, finding himself in great demand throughout the 1980s, usually as a psychopathic villain or unhinged outsider in the likes of 'Night Hawks', 'The Hitcher' and, most famously, as Roy Batty in Ridley Scott's 'Blade Runner'. The 1990s and early 2000s saw Hauer disappear from the mainstream, appearing in a number of low budget B movies and cameos in TV shows like 'Smallville' and 'Alias'.
Hauer has since had small but notable roles in 'Sin City' and 'Confessions of a Dangerous Mind', and remains a fascinating actor capable of conveying his emotions through his body language and tone, of considerable subtlety (check out the first 40 seconds of the trailer below and you'll see what I mean). Although 'Hobo with a Shotgun' is unlikely to be a good film, depending on your expectations and views on exploitation films, Hauer's presence will be enough to make me hunt it out on dvd.
This trailer is unrated and is fairly graphic so NSFW
The recent revival in Superhero films has been a bit of a mixed blessing, with Marvel putting together extremely glossy productions, starring top actors like Jeff Bridges (Thunderbolt and Lightfoot), Don Cheadle (The Rat Pack) and Robert Downey Junior (Weird Science), but which lack substance once you get beyond the CGI missiles and movie-themed ACDC soundtracks (I'm looking at you Iron Man 2).
The latest addition to the Marvel Studios pantheon (is that even the right word? Maybe conveyor belt fits better) is THOR, or THOR 3D if you go to the Belfast Odeon evening showing, where 2D is not an option. Not being a massive comic book reader as a kid, THOR wasn't a character I was particularly familiar with outside of the goofy winged helmet and massive hammer. Lets face it, very few kids want to dress up as THOR.
I'd have Perseus ahead of him, but that's just my opinion...
As ridiculous a concept as THOR is ('legendary God of Thunder!! The mightiest warrior of all mythology!! User of many exclamation marks!!), it's actually a fairly enjoyable, popcorn film. Kenneth Branagh (Dead Again) directs the proceedings with a gusto more in common with one of his Shakespearean adaptations, bringing a certain gravitas de camp (not quite Flash Gordon, but definitely sailing close) to the whole thing.
With Sir Anthony Hopkins (Freejack), Idris Elba (Obsessed) and Stellan Skarsgard (Exorcist: The Begining) delivering 'the ACTing', the role of Thor could easily have been reduced to a grunting, monsylabic stump of wood. Chris Hemsworth (Star Trek) defies these expectations and is a charismatic actor who manages to walk the fine line between tongue in cheek and taking himself too seriously. Not an easy thing when running around shirtless with a large hammer called Fffffffffynar (or something close).
As an origin story, it's pretty solid, nicely setting up THOR as an arrogrant and brash man of war, who 'SPOILER' is humbled by his father Odin (Hopkins), King of Asgard, and betrayed by his brother Loki (the guy from Wallander apparently), and forced to undertake a journey of discovery involving comedic mug smashing, beating up security guards, and wowing Natalie Portman with his quaint chivalry. It all feels a bit stuck together, as if the whole thing has been assembled wholesale from a giant acme-Marvel-genre-kit. It's not as good as Iron Man, but nowhere near as bad as Wolverine. On par with Iron Man 2 I think. I prefer to think of THOR, not as mindless popcorn film designed to sell toys, bedspreads, and over priced 'replica' Ffffffffffffffffffynars to 40 year old men with no kids and too much disposable income, but as a warning on the perils of unchecked adoption.
It is a damning indictment of the welfare system of THOR's homeland Asgard, and the negligence of the local authorities in vetting the suitability of Odin as a foster parent for Loki, whom it turns out is really a frost giant (evil nemeses of the Asgard people), 'rescued' by Odin after the old man had presumably rampaged his way into the frost giant creche following a major battle. Loki understandably has a massive chip on his shoulder based around the fact Odin clearly favours his brother, and that his foster parents didn't tell him of his adoption until he ws 37. Also, the fact Odin steals the baby Loki from the frost giants, without so much as leaving a note, leads me to believe that the Asgard social services must have turned a blind eye to this child abduction. THOR should really look into this abuse of power as soon as he gets a free moment from smiting frost giants and pining after Portman, because it's this sort of institutionalised corruption that gives a royal family a bad name.
Maybe it's due to the involvement of Branagh (Belfast born, and Linfield fan, according to Wikipedia) and Lisburn's own Ray Stevenson (Punisher: War Zone), that I take a kinder view of THOR. A kinder view isn't something I would ascribe to watching this in 3D though, with the film close to inducing flash epilepsy for 'her that would be obeyed' and giving me a mild out-of-body experience whenever THOR took to flying accross the electro-rainbow bridge of cross-dimensionality. I'm firmly in the Mark Keromode anti-3D camp and on the basis of this, am unlikely to be shifted.
Already a big seller for Halloween 2011 by all accounts.
