Saturday, March 21, 2020

turkey balls.

OK so everything as gone to Hell in a handbag due to the whole Coronavirus catastrophe going down right now but I'm here to help.

Well I say help.

"You want toilet roll? You must be off your trolley mate!"

Anyway today's blast from the Bubonic past is a film so awful that the first time I watched it my body rebelled forcing me to begin violently shitting blood in an attempt to stop me.

Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for...

Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2008).
Dir: James Nguyen.
Cast: Alan Bagh, Whitney Moore, Janae Caster, Adam Sessa, Colton Osborne, Patsy van Ettinger, Tippi Hedren (on video) plus lots of other unfortunate folk who will remain nameless.

Dr Jones: "It's the human species that needs to quit playing cowboy with nature. We must act more like astronauts, spacemen taking care of Spaceship Earth."

Generic stud muffin, green activist and traveling sales-guy Rod (Bagh, most famous for his role as 'party goer' in the movie version of Rent), taking a well deserved break from punting environmentally friendly nose-hair clippers and computer type stuff to old men, stops off for a bite to eat at a cosy diner where in between chowing down on lobster and fries he glimpses the toothsome and skull-headed beauty that is Wallmart catalogue model Nathalie (Moore) sucking the grease from a hobo's coat at the other table.

Realizing he'll never meet anyone again who can match his frightening lack of charisma and talent he gives Nathalie his number (12 probably) and arranges to meet her for a dinner date later that week.

Heading home to get showered Rod notices that a few birds are flying backwards and using their pooh to write abusive graffiti on windshields.

Our hero thinks that this may be something to do with global warming but instantly forgets about the whole thing as soon as he pulls into his drive way.

"Curses He-Man!"

Changing into his dad's shirt and tie he meets up with Nathalie for a slap up Happy Chef meal (but no starter, the budget isn't that big) leading to what seems like a three hour long vomit inducing romance montage involving them kissing each other goodnight, chatting to their friends, Rod selling stuff (but unfortunately not his arse) and talking about inexpensive solar paneling with Nathalie's grossly overweight mum.

Meanwhile on a nameless beach an eagle dies.

After a particularly tasty McDonald's Happy Meal (with a free Transformers window dangler) Rod and Nat decide that rather than going back to one of their comfy and well furnished apartments that it'd be more fun to have a shag in a filthy, run down motel in the middle of nowhere.

Who says romance is dead?

Seductively (by seductively I mean really uncomfortably, like having to watch your mum pole dance) Nathalie strips to her (non matching) underwear whilst raunchy Rod stands about like a discarded mannequin decked out in a pair of tramps pants and socks before easing himself onto the flea infested bed for a night of hot passion.

Thank fuck the camera fades to black before we get to see any of it.

Come to think of it the film's been on for an hour so far and we've yet to see anything of consequence.

It's a bit like watching sub-shite soap opera paint dry.

It really is this shit. Just accept it.

But lo! As if by magic something finally happens as we're treated to the sight of some 1980's style computer generated birds suicide bombing the local city and exploding for no apparent reason.

Back at the motel Nathalie is rudely awakened by a mix of vaginal itching and a loud banging coming from outside and - after opening the curtains (and sharing with us the horrific sight of her skinny bum cheeks hanging limply from between her thong string) announces to a groggy Rod that they are under attack.

By kamikaze eagles.

Striking a heroic pose Rod drags the semen and shit stained bed over to the window to create a makeshift barricade before giving up, pulling his trousers on and hiding behind the TV.

Sick of having to sit quietly staring at Nathalie's knobbly knees for an hour our hero announces that the birds must have got bored and gone to lunch and that now would be a good time to make a break for the car.

Leaving the motel room they soon come across an equally unattractive and badly dressed couple, Gordon Ramsey (Sessa - like it matters) and his beast-like missis Becky.

Tho' from the look of her it might be his mum.

Or more likely your mum.

Armed with bird-bashing coat-hangers and a bottle of cheap gin, this gruesome pair of would-be abortionists offer our heroes a lift in their minivan.

Bagh: insert cock here....if nothing else it'll stop him talking.

Beating off the birds (but not in that way, it'd be far too much fun for this movie) as they fight valiantly to get to the van, Ramsey pulls out a kiddies toy M-16 machine gun from under the passenger seat managing to kill all the feathered fiends before the fantastic foursome drive off into the countryside and, after (more) chat about global warming, try to bring some much needed excitement to the movie by trying to run over a couple of pug faced children.

Being a complete arse tho', Ramsey can't even manage this which means we now have to suffer the robot-like non-acting of a pair of pig nosed pre-pubescent pains as well as everyone else.


More chat, driving and random bird murder follows.

Beware the Joan Crawford dance group!

Stopping for a picnic the stodgy sextet discover an eminent bird doctor standing on a bridge wearing an ill fitting suit and a decorators mask looking for all the world like a would be child molester with a Billy Goats Gruff fetish.

Or in current climes a normal person shopping in Aldi.

In a perfect world this would be Donald Pleasance but (luckily for him) he's dead so in his infinite wisdom the director goes for the next best thing.

A lard addicted derelict in a dead man's moth eaten jacket.

But try not to laugh too much because he has something important to tell us.

You see, it's not the poor birds fault it's ours.

Yup, all of our loud music, cars and motel based shagging has sent the worlds birds mad and now they want revenge.

And a big bag of seed.

Shite in mah mooth
you feathery bastards!

As the shock realization that the world as we know it has gone mad slowly sinks into the casts thick craniums, thoughts turn to survival.

Or in Becky's case where she can go to have a big shit in safety.

Will our motley band of wanna-be's and ne'er were's find a safe haven to rebuild their shattered lives?

Will Nathalie ever get a pair of undies to match her cheap (and frankly whorish) bra?

And, most importantly, will this ever end?

Nope, not even with yours.

What can one say about Birdemic that a thousand websites haven't already said in the ten years since it's release?

Hailed as a work of self-knowing cinematic genius by some and a Plan 9 From Outer Space for the 21st century by others, the entire internet at one point was totally overrun with opinions about the movie until everyone just moved on with their lives after realising that it wasn't even worth shitting on, much to the chagrin of director Nguyen who'd spent the previous months threatening to sue anyone who gave it a bad review in a series of ever more bizarre and crazed emails.

Yes, even this fine blog was targeted and threatened with legal action*.

And how did I reply?


You poor, misguided man, I don't care how much you soaked in the rave reviews and celebrity endorsements, winking knowingly as you bathed naked in the torrent of salty fanwank that soaks you to the skin, you didn't set out to make an amusingly self aware post modern epic - you set out to make an environmental horror movie.

And failed miserably.

I can't blame you for enjoying your new found celebrity status but you seem to forget that you originally took this mess to Sundance as a serious contender for competition.

Didn't the mass walkouts and audience suicides tell you anything?

It's not as if there's even a great film hidden beneath all the horrible mistakes and technical defects (everything from audio dropouts, badly recorded and muffled dialogue, jumpy editing to the use of free animated Gifs as birds), there are just the results of a delusional egotist (and self proclaimed Master of Romantic Thrillers TM) with more money than sense.

If you think I was a wee bit harsh you have to remember that Nguyen financed the movie, wrote the script, appears in it and also produced and directed so who else is there to blame?


A bad boy who ran away?

Well, it beats clipping for small change
at the bus station.

Saying that tho' many people pointed out that what the film lacks in budget, style and technical expertise it more than makes up for due to Nguyen's obvious enthusiasm, ambition and vision.

Fair enough but saying that, I'm really enthusiastic about my dream to invade Latvia using an army of robot geese bolted into bronzed battle tanks but I'm honest enough to know that this is never gonna happen.

At least until I figure out a cheaper way of plating the amour.

No doubt you'll watch this anyway just because all your friends have so I have to ask (in my best Daddy voice), would you jump under a bus if they did?

Hmmm, thought so.

*This has actually happened twice, the other time was when Carolina Grigorov, the 'star' of Robin Hood: Ghosts Of Sherwood threatened to sue me for having a photo of her in my review.

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