Sunday, September 25, 2016

boris the hedgehog.

For your enjoyment/education various photo's from Moscow's Museum of Arcade games.

No idea why.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

skinny deeping.

Was chatting with Mr. Paul earlier this week re: The Shallows (and sharks in general) when he asked why I hadn't done a wee review of In The Deep, a great little movie we'd both seen a few weeks earlier.
I scratched my head and said the dog had eaten the review and that I had a letter from my mum to prove it.
Unfortunately Paul called my bluff so I had to admit that the only letter I had was the one disinheriting me.
So, to make amends here's a very (for me) short review (don't want to give too much away) plus a wee bit of background first to set the scene.
Earlier this year at Glasgow FrightFest director Johannes Roberts popped along to show us his terrifying tale of totems, terror and antique tables, The Other Side of The Door as well as giving us a sneaky peek of his upcoming shark shocker 47 Meters Down.
The footage to hand promised an old school cinematic scareathon with some really nice shark effects and a taut, tight premise. 

Excited at sharks being taken seriously again we awaited its release with baited - and slightly eggy - breath.

Not this one.

Flash forward (and then forward again if you're reading this today) to the beginning of August when In The Deep (as it was now titled) was listed to appear on DVD and VOD.

Then suddenly, like a great white swimming away into the dark it disappeared.

And the reason?
Well, thanks possibly to the success of The Shallows, the movie was rescued from DVD obscurity by Freestyle Media who plan to release it in around 2,500 theaters sometime in 2017.
How bizarre - but great for film fans - is that?
Especially since In The Deep was actually completed first.
And truth be told a better film.
And with that let's go.....
In The Deep (AKA 47 Meters Down, 2016).
Dir: Johannes Roberts.
Cast: Mandy Moore, Claire Holt, Sir Matthew of Modine, Santiago Segura, Yani Gellman, Chris J. Johnson and Axel Mansilla.

Sugary sweet sisters Lisa and Kate (Moore and Holt) are on holiday in beautiful Mexico (which by this point should be named shark attack capital of the world), partly to get pissed and eye up the local talent (who are by the by really nice people and not these rapists and drug dealers that Donald Trump keeps shouting about) but mainly to help Lisa mend her broken heart after being dumped by her vile fiancé Chad Mantits.
And why am I taking her side?
Well he must be a total shit to dump Rapunzel from Disney's Tangled.
Nuff said.
Enjoying a few drinks in the hotel pair our cutesy twosome end up 'partying' (as you youngsters say) with local hunksters Louis and Benjamin, who offer to take the girls shark diving the next morning.
Which bizarrely enough does actually mean diving with sharks and not indulge in some kinky south of the border sexiness.

And by south of the border I mean Mexico, not something anal based.

Glad that's out of the way.
Lisa, being the shy sensible type (with a fear of water to boot) is unsure but is soon persuaded to join in by her more boisterous sister so off they go to sea alongside the boys and the salty sea dog Captain Taylor (Modine).
Their mission?
Get (wet) suited and booted and jump into a cage where they’ll be able to get up close and personal with the great white circling down below.

What could possibly go wrong?
In the midnight hour she cried Moore, Moore, Moore!
Worried, excited and aroused - I mean come on it is Matthew Modine - in equal measures the girls quickly jump into the cage and prepare to enter a magic and dangerous world under the sea.

Lisa soon relaxes, even attempting to stroke the shark at one point and admits to her sister that her fears were unfounded.

Which is nice.

With shark selfies taken the girls signal the boat to return to the surface but the cage cable snaps sending the pair crashing to the bottom of the ocean - which is 47 meters down fact fans - not only that but the massive iron pulley system has gone overboard too and is currently resting atop the cage.

Which is never a good sign.

As the scared shitless sisters struggle to save air and stay calm, the shark, obviously intrigued as to what an ex-Disney star will taste like, swims ever closer...

What do you call a fish with no eyes.....a fsh. (that doesn't really work written down does it?

As mentioned previously, you can't help but make comparisons 'tween this and
​The Shallows, both feature female protagonists taking on one of mother natures nasties and both have our leads cut off from help but for sheer claustrophobia and tension, In The Deep wins hands (fins?) down.
Although much location work was filmed in the Dominican Republic nearly all of the underwater scenes were shot in a (broccoli filled) water tank in Blightly which I'm only pointing out because you would never tell otherwise, the films (relatively) low budget in no way hindering or cheapening the overall feel or aesthetic of the film.
During his onstage Q and A at Frightfest Roberts jokingly apologized that the shark on show may look a bit ropey due to it not being completely rendered in the showreel, he needn't have worried then or now as the beast looks magnificent, I'm assuming that real sharks were composited into some shots alongside CGI equivalents but to be honest I really couldn't tell.
Nor did I care as I became totally involved in the plight of the characters onscreen as their predicament unfolded almost in real time, each character (even those sketchily drawn ones on the surface) seemed to react as real people not thriller movie cliches just there to forward the plot.

Which is a pleasant surprise.
Oxygen in mah mooth!
Roberts alongside, cinematographer Mark Silk do a fantastic job of making the most out of what is essentially a pitch black environment, their measured use of various lighting techniques (flares, hand-held torches etc) give a real sense of depth (excuse the pun) and menace to an alien world where (wo)man is just so much meat.
Lean, mean and peachy keen, In The Deep is a probably the best man vs. nature movie since Adam Green's chairlift chiller Frozen, which if you haven't seen do so now, then beg, borrow or steal a copy of this for a fantastically fearful film double bill.

No to find some shite to review, I appear to be enjoying myself way to much at the mo.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

lest we forget.

Haviland Morris as Marla Bloodstone in Gremlins 2: The New Batch.

Nuff said.

mexican wave.

The Shallows (2016).
Dir: Jaume Collet-Serra.
Cast: Blake Lively, Óscar Jaenada, Brett Cullen, Sedona Legge, Angelo José Lozano Corzo, José Manuel Trujillo Salas, Pablo Calva and Diego Espejel.

Are you ready to get wet, Dr. Adams?

It's a sunny day in downtown (and pre-Trump terrorizing) Mexico where a small boy (almost Benetton like in his cuteness) is nonchalantly kicking a 'soccer' ball (as our American cousins call it) along an idyllic beach.

Coming across one of those fancy helmet mounted action cameras lying discarded in the sand he does what any small Mexican child would do and hurries off to sell it for drugs.

Only joking.

He gingerly turns it on and sits back to watch the video, hoping for some sand-based porn or the like.

Unfortunately (for him obviously, the rest of us are hoping for some shark munching action) the video consists of shaky footage of a moustachioed man struggling to climb onto a rock only before being gobbled up by a big shark.


But how did we get here?*

Taking a break from her studies in order to cope with the grief of losing (as in she died not fell down the back of the sofa) her mother, skinny hipped medical student Nancy (Carol Ferris herself, Lively) has decided to travel to the very same beach her mother surfed at right after finding out she was pregnant.

Tho' not being a surfer - or pregnant - I'm not too sure if that was safe.


Getting a ride to the beach from friendly local handyman Carlos T. Jackal
(Jaenada, star of 2010s The Valdemar Legacy II: The Forbidden Shadow), she soon arrives at the fabled beach - which is lucky cos the movie only has an 86 minute running time and we really don't need all this touchy, feely stuff if I'm honest, I just want to see a skimpily swimsuit lady fight a shark -  joining a couple of surfer dudes (one of which is wearing a camera on his hat....this maybe - or already is important so remember it) in 'hanging ten' and 'being tubular'.

Somewhere to park your bike at least.

It's not all Big Wednesday shenanigans tho' as Nancy takes a break to video-call 
her baby sister, the chinny Chloe (Legge, daughter of Eastenders GP Harold) in order to not only let her know that she has arrived at their mother's beach but also to begrudgingly chat to her dad (Cullen) as to remind the audience about her dead mum and her decision to drop out of school for a bit.

C'mon, it's only been five minutes since it was last mentioned so we may have forgotten.

With all this family drama stuff out of the way Nancy hangs up in order to 'catch' one more wave before heading back to her hotel.

Splashing about in the water without a care in the world Nancy is surprised to see the carcass of a humpback whale bobbing about just ahead of her, totally ruining her view and ultimately reminding her of her mums death.

Which is a wee bit unkind seeing as the actress playing her mom in the flashbacks (Chelsea Moody fact fans) was actually fairly hot.

Even (oh go on especially) when wearing a headscarf with her eyebrows shaved.

And played by Janelle Bailey.

Anyway back to the plot where Nancy, currently riding her last wave of the day back to the beach is suddenly thrown into the water by a huge great white shark that has decided, inconsiderately it must be said to head-butt her surf board, causing her to hit her head on a submerged rock.

Swimming to the surface and reaching for her board the shark reappears and bites her leg, pulling her below the waves.

Luckily Nancy manages to punch her way free and hurriedly swims toward the dead whale before crawling atop it to relative (if not fairly stinky) safety.

"You ain't seen me right?"

Lying atop the blubbery dead beast (exactly like that time you found your dad and your cousin at your sisters wedding) Nancy scans the area for a safer spot as the shark attempts to overturn the creature in order to eat her whole.

Tho' shark experts watching will know that they usually spit that bit out.

Noticing an isolated rock not too far away our blood spattered babe tosses herself off the whale and into the sea, swimming as fast as she can whilst the shark circles the whale playing scary mind games with Nancy like some sea-based Rob Titchener.

Clambering onto the rock and soak in sea, sweat and blood (it's not important but does make for a fairly erotic mental image whilst reading) Nancy uses her medical training to fashion an improvised tourniquet from her surfboard strap, her earrings and the sleeve of her wetsuit to stop the bleeding before attempting to attract the attention of the two locals who were surfing earlier.

Unfortunately due to her messy appearance and lack of make-up the pair fail to notice her driving away and leaving Nancy to spend the night on the rock with only a wounded seagull - whom she names Stephen, after the late Boyzone singer Stephen Gately - for company.

Waking the next morning covered in tiny crabs (we've all been there), Nancy notices a fat drunk passed out on the beach and begins waving her arms about in the hope of getting his attention.

He must be totally rat arsed tho' (but probably not as drunk as that fucker in the Blair Witch showing) as the sight of Blake Lively in an tiny bikini drenched in blood does nothing for him save alerting him to the fact that her bag must be on the beach somewhere.

Upon finding it he decides to steal her phone and wallet before wanking into her dry clothes.

Stumbling off home he soon notices her surfboard floating in shallow water so  wades out to steal that too.


Good job then that the shark was nearby and fearing his award for nastiest beast in the film is in jeopardy bites the guy in half.

"They'll be no shite-in in mah mooth you pointy toothed bastard!"

Realizing that she can do nothing but wait - and hope - for help Nancy passes the time teaching the Seagull the words to No Matter What, which is an uphill struggle seeing as birds don't have lips.

Luckily - for us and her -  the two locals return for another days surfing, which is a good thing if they can rescue Nancy without getting eaten first.

So, do you reckon that's going to happen?

Well it wont really spoil the movie if I say that within minutes of entering the water both are killed by the shark.

Don't worry it's not all bad as the dorsal-finned fiend decides not to eat the helmet-mounted camera one of them was wearing giving Nancy a chance to retrieve it and therefore record a goodbye message to her dad and sister before throwing it (rather craply it must be said) toward the shore.

"Put it in me!"

Dehydrated, losing blood and with high tide approaching, Nancy knows the rock will soon be submerged leaving her at the sharks mercy.

But she has a cunning plan.

Not too far away from the rocks is a rusted old buoy that may offer more protection (and maybe a flare gun or something) so,  after sending Stephen out to sea on a broken bit of surfboard in order to time the sharks circling from the whale to the rock, Nancy decides to swim for it.

Narrowly avoiding being eaten by swimming thru' a school of colourfully rendered CGI jellyfish Nancy clambers aboard the buoy and does indeed find a flare gun which it turns out is a bit shit failing as it does - in a fairly spectacular manner - to draw the attention of a passing ship.

It does however wind up the shark a fair bit and not being very good at communicating its frustration decides to try and eat the buoy instead.

With night falling and only a handful of wet flares for company Nancy is trapped on an ever more chewed buoy as the shark circles closer and closer.

Will she escape unscathed?

And more importantly did Stephen make it to shore?

From the man who gave us the video for "Esperanza" by Enrique Iglesias and the hypopituitarism-based potboiler The Orphan (which if you haven't seen is worth it just for the frankly bonkers reveal) comes a surprisingly taut little thriller that makes the best of its small cast and big threat.

Collet-Serra's Euro-centric pop video vibe gives the proceedings a nice arty feel, whether it be shots of text messages and times popping up in mid-air, the genuinely chilling first shot of the shark, silhouetted in the wave on which the Nancy is surfing or the aftermath of the first attack where the sea gradually turns for bright blue to a shade of red usually reserved for Argento movies, his visual stylings never overpower what is, in essence a simple little (wo)man vs. nature story.

I wouldn't want one of them swimming up hang on.

Sure the bog-standard relationship/grief/tragic backstory is a wee bit unnecessary - it's (lucky) enough that she's in med school, let's just have her out surfing and the shark turns up, nothing else matters - and the helmet camera seems a little bit too convenient but Collet-Serra and star Lively manage to pull it off.

Talking of Lively she's actually great as Nancy, giving a pretty strong and level headed performance, thankfully not going the usual shivering wreck to superwoman route that these movies usually take and for once someones job description is actually useful, her almost nonchalant A-Team attempts at fixing her wounds are one of the high points of the film.

The Shallows may not re-invent the killer fish genre but it's an entertaining enough way to spend 90 minutes mainly due to the fact that after being trapped in the cinematic crapper of Sharknado and it's Sy-Fy shite-hole siblings for years it's nice to finally have the shark back on the big screen - and being treated with the respect and fear it deserves, not just in this film but also in Johannes Roberts' Mandy Moore starrer In The Deep, a similarly Mexican set shark shocker that, to my mind is the more claustrophobic and affecting of the two.

But don't take my word for it, go see them both.

Because if you don't the studios will think we don't want nice things and before you know it we'll end up with Deep Blue Sea II: The Deepening or something.

*Usually via a search engine (Google or the like) or because you subscribe to this page or - and this is the most likely judging by the type of comments I get - you did an interweb search for 'Blake Lively naked'.

Friday, September 16, 2016


It's finally here.

The sequel we never thought we'd see.

After the sequel we hoped we'd never see again obviously.

So throwing my cool cinematic persona to the wind and embracing my inner fanboy I decided to go to the first showing on the opening day.

I mean at 11.00 AM on a Thursday morning what could possibly go wrong?

Blair Witch (2016).
Dir: Adam Wingard.
Cast: James Allen McCune, Callie Hernandez, Brandon Scott, Corbin Reid, Wes Robinson and Valorie Curry.

Pity poor James (The Walking Dead and Shameless star McCune) Donahue, a kinda thinner, council estate Chris Pratt whose entire - young - life (and taste in lumberjack shirts) so far has been defined by the fact that his big sister Heather disappeared back in 1994 whilst making a documentary about the legend of the Blair Witch.

 But all that is about to change.

It seems that a couple of Interweb types - Louis  Lane (Robinson, who scarily is an almost exact genetic splice of Tom Savini and Alex Winter) and Talia Shire (cutesy, button nosed star of The Following and daughter of former UK politician Edwina, Curry) have found a video tape in the woods near to where Heather disappeared that appears to show someone being chased around the spooky house in which she was last seen.

Even tho' the mysterious figure isn't wearing a bobble hat or covered in snot James is convinced that it's his sister.

Could she still be alive?

And what about Josh and Mike?

Look let's be honest who really cares about them.

Not James that's for sure.

Maybe next time.

As luck would have it his 'friend' Lisa (Hernandez, soon to be seen in Alien: Covenant) is about to start work on a documentary for college and decides that her pals grief is as good a subject as any so agrees to accompany him to Burkittsville to find the truth.

So along with James' best friend Peter (Scott, the voice of Kohut in Wreck It Ralph) plus his girlfriend Ashley (How to Get Away with Murder's Reid) and armed with a frankly magnificent selection of ear mounted cameras, I-Pads, drones and the like head up country to meet up Lane and Talia to discover more about the footage and maybe even pick up some useful tips for surviving a night in the woods.

Tho' Bruce Campbell would probably be a better bet when it comes to scary cabins and terrifying trees.

Maybe they'll meet up halfway thru?

James farted....and it smelled of pine cones.

Arriving at the home of the trailer trash twosome, Peter is a wee bit unnerved to see a Confederate flag flying above the fireplace and immediately begins to suspect that something isn't quite right about the pair but chooses to remain quiet for the sake of his pal.

The others are too busy giggling at Talia's greasy violet barnet to notice.

Offering everyone a nice cup of tea and a biscuit to ease the tension (and promising that no lynchings will occur) Lane settles down to tell our cute quartet the story of how he came across the tape in question.

Tho' he refrains from telling us how often he comes across Talia's boyish yet still incredibly attractive arse.

Which is a pity.

But our creepy couple have their own agenda and refuse to give out any information unless they too can accompany the group into the woods.

James, much to Peter's chagrin reluctantly agrees.

"I wouldn't want one of them swimming up my arse!" Said the stickman, obviously.

Any thought that the group has about the trip being a walk in the park - or at least a hike in the woods - abruptly changes when Ashley falls whilst crossing a river and cuts her foot causing much swearing and concerned looks as she bravely limps along, stopping occasionally to let out a little "ouch" whilst wrinkling her nose in an incredibly cute manner.

Yup she is so marked for death.

Setting up camp our merry band prepare for an evening under the stars, swapping stories of Coffin Rock and Rustin Parr before tucking themselves up in their sleeping bags ready for a busy days walking and witch hunting.

But as night falls all hell breaks loose in the woods as, from nowhere a looming shadow lumbers out of the dark before revealing itself - in hideous technicolour close-up - to be a baw-faced man-breasted Star Trek fan (in a scarily stained and pulled necked Starfleet t-shirt and smelling of warm milk) resplendent with a greying ponytail that hadn't seen a bottle of shampoo for at least 30 years waving the brightest phone you have ever fucking seen around his head as if warding off demons whilst mumbling away to himself in a voice only his mother (WHO WILL NEVER DIE!) would love.

Unfortunately this was happening right in front of me in the cinema.

Then to top it all the fucker noisily threw himself down 2 seats away before  proceeding to scoff the contents of his Sainsbury's carrier bag whilst giggling like a fucking school girl.


"I love my mum....SHE WILL NEVER DIE!"

Obviously something like that can be oh so slightly annoying at the best of times but especially if it's a movie you've literally been waiting 16 years to see.

Luckily he was too interested in his Haribo/Dorito/lard stash to prove too much of a distraction - tho' I've still no fucking clue what happened to Peter, chances are the fat fucker probably ate him - so I bravely attempted to get back into the film.

I mean it couldn't get any worse could it?

Calming myself down I suddenly noticed the stench of stale booze wafting up the stairs as a teetering toward me was a tanked up tosspot in a suit, 35 minutes late in and waving his ticket around as he stood directly in front of the screen shouting "Is this Blair Witch? So where's my seat? Am I here? Is this right?" before stumbling back down towards the exit. 

Obviously enjoying the effect he was having on my cinema viewing he proceeded to do this 3 FUCKING TIMES before the small girl (she was about 7) that worked at the cinema nervously followed him toward us before asked if we knew where he was/what film he was seeing.

Cue "Fucking kick him out!" from the couple a few seats along followed by a shaky seat Aspie meltdown from me.

Oh joy.

"OK....who invited the fat sweaty fucker with the portable sweet shop?"

By this point I had no idea what was happening on screen due to the drama unfolding around us so resigned myself to spend the rest of the movie shaking, swearing under my breath and staring intently at the drunken guy who was by now snoozing merrily in the aisle, any build up of suspense or terror totally destroyed by a couple of thick wankers who obviously decided that today was they day that they'd take a break from sitting in their rooms masturbating over Japanese anime porn (or by the look of the drunk guy his daughters school friends) and entertain the outside world instead.

And breathe.

So I can't really say if Blair Witch lived up to its promise, or if Wingard succeeded in fashioning a virtual roller-coaster ride of terror that starts the occult assaults with the dial at 11 then progressively pumps it up from there and I don't even know if the cast conveyed the sheer horror and hopelessness of the situation they found themselves in.

I know I did.

I don't know if the situation was made better or worse by the fact that I was absolutely loving what I was watching up till these little inconveniences.

"Let's go to the pictures!"

The end credits hadn't even started to roll when Dorito-dust fuck wheezily raised his massive girth from his seat, turned to us and whispered (in a voice he usually saves for trying to get pre-teen girls to undress online) "Well that was a waste of time." before waddling slug-like to an early grave.

Yes it was mate, ours.

If you can't arrive in time or not last 90 minutes without having to fucking stuff your massive ugly face or feel that the only way you can watch a film in the cinema is to get off your tits on drink then I beg you, go see a doctor or at least stay in your fucking house so I don't have to interact with you.

As an aside if anyone on here has a fat, shit-haired Trekkie pal who went to see Blair Witch on Thursday morning at Cineworld Glasgow tell them from me....If I ever encounter him again he's a fucking dead man.

Same goes for you in the suit you shit-heeled sozzled sod. 

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

*As a (non-amusing) aside, kudos to the cinema manager for listening to my calmly explained Autism-fueled rant afterwards and refunding my money....tho' he was probably trying to get rid of me.

**Oh and if anyone from Lionsgate is reading this (yeah right), of course a screener when the film is released on home video would be great so I can review it properly.

And a T-shirt and/or some stickers/posters/badges too would aid my recovery.

I can but try.

Monday, September 12, 2016

clothes whores.

Yup I know you've all seen it by now but what the hell, I couldn't let this go by without at least attempting to add some patented mooth-shite-in/laugh now nonsense to the mix, in part to counteract all those wank-fest musings and mild anger posts that accompanied its cinema release.

More importantly tho' someone might read it and send me a Blu Ray copy as a thank you.

Or at the very least a pair of Jena Malone's undies.

Or even a pair of Karl Glusman's I'm not proud.

Tho' seeing as my rather marvelous write-up of Burial Ground got me fuck all (except the threat of violence) I can't really see that happening can you?

The Neon Demon (2016).

Dir: Nicolas Winding Refn.
Cast: Elle Fanning, Karl Glusman, Jena Malone, Alessandro Nivola, Bella Heathcote, Abbey Lee, a mountain lion, Christina Hendricks and Keanu Reeves.

Who wants sour milk when you can get fresh meat?

Meet the frighteningly ball-headed and big eyed beauty Jesse (Fanning), a waif like (and wafer thin) 16 year old wannabe model whom we first encounter helping out amateur photographer cum nice guy Dean Gaffney (cock wobbling star of Gaspar Noe's "Love, Glusman) as a model for the 'I've seen Suspiria' fashion shoot he's preparing as part of his 'I'm interesting and like the foreign films' portfolio.

Draped on a chaise lounge and with red emulsion dripping from her neck our vacant eyed heroine oozes an other worldly innocence coupled with a look of utter boredom as she gazes into the middle distance.

And by default into our very souls.


With it's Argento cum Kubrick cum all things shiny (and all over the sofa if this movie gets any more gorgeous to look at) agenda firmly in place for all to see Jesse busies herself carefully wiping the muck off her smooth, milky white skin as the red-headed, trash epic temptress that is Jena Malone gazes lustfully at her from behind a mirror whilst smoking a cigarette in the way that only bad girls - and your mum - can.


Taking pity on our friendless waif Malone (playing a character called Ruby) invites Jesse to a Hunger themed tribute party where she introduces her to a couple of vacuous fellow models Sarah Leegateau (Australian fashion model, actress and musician Lee from Fury Road) and Gigi Wattoscillator (ex- Neighbours star Heathcote). 
Much bitchiness and bad words follow as the women attempt to get the measure of  Jesse - which is about 1.75 m if I'm not mistaken - whilst channeling Andrea Bianchi's dialogue coach.
Yes the scene IS that good.
Quickly exhausting every topic that women ever chat about (sexual preference, make-up tips and swooning over pictures of Hollyoaks hunk Nick Pickard) the foursome make their way into the main hall to watch a wee bit of strobe-lit Shibari bondage set to a pulse pounding sub-Simonetti score.

Which is nice.

It's not all colours and sound tho' as there is, in fact a kinda plot to be getting on with too so the next day Jesse vists an important modeling agency run by the frankly magnificent Christina Hendricks, who after seeing her test shots signs Jesse on the spot before giving her the top fashionata advice to pretend she's 19 and not eat too many pies.

Seems legit.

As it happens nasty necklaced photographer Jack Flatley (Harrington, father of Kit and star of The Hole, Ghost Ship, and Wrong Turn but hell who am I to judge?) has an open slot (which he could probably get sorted with antibiotics) in his schedule just the right size for Jesse to squeeze into so off she goes to pose for his Polaroids and see what develops.

By that I meant as far as her career goes, it wasn't a euphemism for him getting an erection or anything which he may of seeing as the shoot consists of Jesse stripping naked whilst he covers her in gold paint as he gazes manfully into space.

Leaving the shoot Jesse comes across (not in that way but only cos I doubt Elle Fanning is a squirter if I'm honest) Ruby skulking about outside practicing her smoking skills and the pair swap numbers before Ruby heads off for a lunch date with Gigi and Sarah which quickly descends into a wee bit of a bitchfest regarding 'the fresh meat' that is our bubbly blonde babe.

This may be important later.

And she's watching him with those eyes
And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it!
And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night whilst wondering why everyone is wandering around the set of
Sei donne per l'assassino.

Not wanting to get too carried away with all this gold fleck fashion stuff  Jesse spends the evening on a date with Dean that consists of her walking along a wall whilst waxing lyrically about the moon being a massive eye.

Which is nice.

With the surrealism exhausted Jesse returns to her run down motel room only to find it's been ransacked by a mountain lion leaving her no alternative but to call on sleazy motel manager, Theodore "Hank" Logan (Reeves) for help.

Being a sleazy, beardy bastard he blames Jesse for the situation and demands that she pay for the damages.

By pay for the damages I have a feeling he's hinting at her having sex with him.


But who cares about such minor issues when there's more (much more) fashion-type stuff to fit in so with that in mind Jesse heads off to a casting call for the world famous fashion designer Robert Sandwich (Nivola from Face/Off, Ryan Gosling was obviously busy sorting his Lego that day) where she ends up head to head with Sarah.

Who will get the coveted catwalk call?

Go on, guess.

Finger in mah mooth ya skinny bastard!

With Jesse crowned catwalk queen, Sarah distraught at being ignored (must have been the off-white boil washed granny pants) runs away and hides in the toilet, tearing up her portfolio and smashing the mirror with her massive chin.

Needing a poo after a hard day being measured Jesse finds Sarah sobbing in a cubicle and attempts to cheer her up with a variety of animal impressions.

This random act of kindness causes Sarah to lunge at Jesse in order to give her a big hug but Jesse (being very ickle) gets a fright and cuts her tiny doll-like hand on a shard of glass.

Sarah, as anyone would in this situation impulsively starts sucking the blood from the wound and with this Jesse makes her excuses and leaves.

Managing to dodge Hank's angry advances she makes it to her room before collapsing on the bed in a sea of neon triangles, high maintenance haircuts and improbably angled evening wear only to be raised from her hallucinogenic haze by Dean arriving at her door with a bunch of garage forecourt flowers.


Being a sucker for a sob story (or just a fan of milky white thighs you could ski down) Dean offers to pay Hank for the damages before tending to Jesse's wound, leaving her free to prepare for her catwalk debut.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

Would you believe it.... gurning Gigi just happens to be performing (um, walking?) at Lord Sandwich's fashion show too which gives Gigi ample time to tell Jesse about all the cosmetic surgery she's had in order to look more 'beautiful'  and in turn express shock and disbelief at the fact that Jesse is not only all natural but that she hasn't offered to have 'the sex' with anyone to get the job.

Just like me.

This intellectual discourse on the meaning of beauty is cut short when Sandwich enters from stage left (as opposed to a wee boy) to announce that he wants Jesse to close the show, presenting her with a dress so sparkly that Dame Edna would think twice about wearing it.

Cue legions of zombie-like catwalkers and strobe lights ahoy as Jesse drifts into a fashion induced, triangle obsessed dreamscape of reflection snogging narcissism.

Ding dong.

Heading along to a local bar with Dean to celebrate, the couple happen across Sandwich and Gigi who is still talking about surgery.

Being a bombastic (yet strangely camp  at the same time) type the moustachioed master of making things makes an impassioned plea to women everywhere to desist in their vain search for artificial beauty whilst praising Jesse's natural look and talent declaring that "beauty isn't everything; it's the only thing." 

Dean, being nice but dim challenges this view only to be put in his place when Sandwich quite rightly tells him he wouldn't have any interest in Jesse if she wasn't so beautiful.

Confused by all the big words being banded about Dean leaves in a huff.

"Oh Vic I've fallen!"

Returning to her rundown motel room Jesse's dreams of pretty frocks and unlimited blusher are interrupted by visions of horrible Hank violating her pretty mouth with a flick knife but she's rudely awakened before things get really interesting by the sound of someone trying to force her window open.

As scared as she is she should be grateful that it wasn't someone trying to smash her back door in really.

Making sure everything is locked Jesse can only listen as a mysterious intruder breaks into the room next door and forces the occupant to do much heaving lifting.

Well that's what it sounds like.

Terrified at the thought of being next on the list - and having fairly weak arms -  Jesse rings Ruby who invites her to the mansion that she's house-sitting.

America's Next Top Model was never like this.

Frankly Tyra would never allow it plus I  can't imagine Nigel Barker forcibly sticking his unsheathed blade into a contestants mouth.

Whether they deserved it or not.

Tho' I have thought about it.

Nigel: He's got something to put in you.

Ruby is the perfect host making cups of tea and supplying biscuits for poor Jesse, even offering to comb her hair for her like "her dear old mum used to" only to spoil the whole evening by trying to fiddle with Jesse's wumpf whilst forcing her tongue into her gob.

What's the obsession with Elle Fanning's mouth anyway?

I mean it's not bad but I wouldn't climb over Allison Harvard to shite in it.

 Jesse being a good girl rejects Ruby's advances with a mumbled cry of  "I'm a virgin!"  causing poor dejected Ruby to strop off in a huff and draw scary faces on a mirror in lipstick before leaving for her second job as mortician where she molests a female corpse to take her mind of things.

Don't judge we've all done it.

Returning home after a long evenings corpse cuddling Ruby is surprised to find Jesse, standing on the swimming pool diving board ranting about being the most beautiful - and dangerous - girl in the world.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Drunk on narcissism (is that possible?) and high on fashion Jesse stands proudly, nay arrogantly above her host like some self important designer clad messiah.

Think Naomi Campbell but with better teeth.

And a less limited vocabulary.

Oh yes and without the blood diamond obsession.

But Ruby has plans for Jesse.

Plans that involved the by now fairly teed off Gigi and Sarah.

And a collection of shiny steel steak knifes......

From the undisputed master of Spectrum cinema comes probably THE greatest ASD fueled fantasy ever made that doesn't feature Replicants, Red Dragons or Ryan Gosling.

Luckily it does feature an abundance of pretty frocks and copious amounts of the colour blue in all it's cool wonder.

There's also a fair bit of (deep) red too.

And the greatest film soundtrack this side of Suspiria.

As wonderfully comfy as it is jarring, Nicolas Winding Refn's ode to clothes is one of the most immersive and satisfying films to come out of a lifelong developmental disability since Drive.

Hang there a pattern there?

Tyra: Tearful Banks and a low fat Pot Noodle.

Perkily cast and pitched to perfection, The Neon Demon is a cinematic vision of what the whole damn world would be like if Leo Kanner's kids ruled it.

Think The X-Men but with tidier hair (and rooms) and you're halfway there.

Buy it now or be terminally neurotypical for ever.

Nuff said.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

people you fancy but shouldn't (readers revenge).

Well Arena reader Kitty Trundle seems to have started a brand new level of online interaction here that for once doesn't involve threatening to kill me.
Which is nice.

It appears that thanks to the Agatha Raisin post literally hundreds (well three) of you have been using your free hand to nominate your clandestine crushes.

So especially for Gareth, Stuart and Ian we present cake creating Candice from The  Great British Bake Off.
Tho' to be honest I'm more of a Sue Perkins man myself.
Normal film type stuff will return shortly.