Having upgraded from crook to Mr Middling, the erstwhile Marky Mark, he of the San Francisco bridge homage eyebrows, has to mop up a heap of some snivelling twat’s inglorious poop.
Queue here for a severe tongue-lashing, laddies.
Visually – a delight.
Aurally – an abortion without benefit of anaesthetic.
Viz; no money leftover for scriptwriters.
Or clothes. Eva Green recycles outfits from her Bond movie.
Project X (2012: Oliver Cooper, Jonathan Daniel Brown, Thomas Mann)
All the XXs get their kit off. (Never!)
Tasteful finger-banging tips thrown in which remain ‘academic’ for our lead XYs. (Never!)
Yes, I know we’ve all seen it.
A smaller budget for wildlife than Part I.
Complaint: unrealistic Bangkok; where are all the armies of people with no arms or legs on the street that I saw?
Hint to Producers: could have been edgier with, a cameo from, eg, that wiley rapscallion OJ Simpson.
Martha, Marcy, May Marlene (2011: Elizabeth Olsen, Sarah Paulson, John Hawkes)
Makes you believe brain-washing is possible.
Terribly understanding in-laws.
Now THAT I don’t believe.
“I can never look you in the eye ever again scene”: M4 slips into bed with sister and husband while they’re getting it on.
Cringeworthy scene: hugely cone-nosed boss of the malefactors appoints himself head of deflowering fledgling cultists – in their sleep!
… equals nigh-nighs for tiny rodents.
Almost makes taxidermy socially acceptable. (“No it doesn’t!”)
Best line, “Zat vass my vife’s favourite finger.”
Say no more.
Worth seeing alone for Jemaine (Conchord) Clement bedecked as Pan.
Heartless (2009: Jim Sturgess, Timothy Spall, Eddie Marsan)
“The devil went down to Georgia” and selflessly detoured on the way home for a “Satan gets down in Shoreditch” gig.
And shouts someone a Mary Kay makeover, alas with a Best By date.
Features the worst case of sunburn sloughing since the Sun was a bubby.
Moral: run for your life at the first glint of a tiny saried Indian girl giving away clean underwear in YOUR SIZE.
Moral II: Beautiful Eastern European girls who speak English better than you do are not interested in chummy; they OL-VAYS VANT SUM-SINK.
The Last Templar (2009: Mira Sorvino, Victor Garber, Omar Sharif, Scott Foley)
… was almost the last straw.
Manolo Blahnik had shares in it, surely?
In keeping with the fashion theme, Sorvino could be Aniston avant nose-job viewed through another’s bi-focals.
Meanwhile, the fuzz tries to hang onto its virtue ‘coz it’s Lent.
Sorvino a perky know-it-all who leaves a trail of cadavers in her high-heeled wake on a quest for the truth about the jester upstairs.
Cue the Vatican.
Features a slappable daughter who insists on getting her homework projects finished on time.
Knife Edge (2009: Natalie Press, Mattieu Boujenah, Hugh Bonneville, Joan Plowright)
… which upon was I not.
House slightly larger than Lichtenstein for 2.168 persons.
Ms Press oscillates between thinking she’s Helen Mirren in “The Queen” and a 24/7 ad for Jean-Paul Gaulter.
They tried to make it classy, but, oh dear … check out the weekday dinner accoutrements plus the late Lord Olivier’s ancient old lady doing all the hard graft.
A sub-theme too far: We are asked to give credence to the notion that Press was a successful trader on Wall St courtesy of psychic powers.
But I must admit I did not see “it” coming.
The Killing Room (2009: Nick Cannon, Timothy Hutton, Chloë Sevigny, Clea Duvall)
Enough to make one approve of America being flushed (nothing personal).
Moral: no matter how hard up you get – stay in the gutter.
(“Truly, man, stick with the diet of used prophylactics and vege peelings marinated in cat piss.”)
Moral II: always carry one of those infinite pencils.
SPOILER ALERT Lifesaving Heads-Up: the number most people think of when asked to name a digit between 1-50 is 17.
aka Spies & Contusions.
Slater must have volunteered to pay off 2nd and 3rd World debt single-handedly to even allow the merest whiff of this putrid moose to come within a hemisphere’s radius of those adorable chops.
And not forgetting the guys: there’s a girl-fight in an Irish pub.
Moral: check your cellar regularly (and I don’t mean for vermin or to rotate the Châteauneuf-du-Pape ’53).
No Country for Old Men (2007: Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin)
… or dogs, judging by the canine cull.
Hola! Javier method acts his Purdey* hairdo off.
And blows away everyone else’s.
Never was “heads or tails” so enlivening.
Moral: oxygen is not necessarily your friend.
Moral II: drugs really do kill not only you but everyone you ever met.
*Joanna Lumley from Avengers days.
Hard Candy (2005: Patrick Wilson, Ellen Page, Sandra Oh)
… equals hard yards for miscreants.
Having “cherchéd la fille,” this tugger should have commenced “cherché-ing le nearest SWAT squad.”
A novel take indeed.
The first 20 minutes were so disturbing, this particular convent-educated movie reviewer was wincing for Australasia.
Killing Me Softly (2002: Heather Graham, Joseph Fiennes, Natascha McElhone)
aka Fucking Me Promptly.
Fiennes makes her swoon but feigns the loon too soon.
The book was better (by Nicci French – actually a man and a woman).
SPOILER ALERT Avoid sibling incest (for reasons other than the obvious).