Friday, 28 August 2009

Bum-Chinned Corpses

Not entirely unpredictably, you lot have voted for Pulp Fiction as The Greatest Quentin Tarantino Film, Like, Ever. Now Pulp Fiction's OK, but let's not forget that one of its biggest contributions to cinema was the re-activation of John Travolta. Is that something to be proud of? The success of Pulp Fiction gave Travolta the power to do this:

2.3 out of 10 on the Internet Movie Database. That's Tarantino's legacy. Not such a messiah now, is he?

Anyway, this week's poll is about a much more deserving director who's in the news this week (i.e. he was mentioned in The Incredible Suit) and hasn't re-animated any bum-chinned corpses as far as I know; Christopher Nolan. In fact Nolan is in no small part responsible for some of Michael Caine's finest work since the 1960s, so he should at least get an Oscar or a Nobel prize or be made Prime Minister for that. So tell me: What's The Greatest Christopher Nolan Film, Like, Ever?

Now I realise I've been banging on about trailers a lot lately so I thought I'd leave you over the Bank Holiday weekend with a few of my own. They're trailers for forthcoming posts which I've written in advance but haven't got round to posting yet. In the spirit of all trailers I've chopped the posts up into nibble-sized chunklets and strung them together in a haphazard and incomprehensible fashion to make them appear far better than they actually are. I hope they lubricate your juice glands to the point where you're bursting out of your underpants to read the full posts even though you know they'll be crushingly disappointing. So…

Coming soon to The Incredible Suit...

Reconstituted Pork Content
Time and time again I’m asked the same question. Costas the Greek in Shirley Valentine. There was a noisy sex scene in it. Painfully unlistenable. Window washer, nude model and sperm donor. Semi-digested meat expulsions. If Roger Moore had his way.

Playing Havoc With My Midichlorians
An endeavour riddled with an infinity of possibilities. One of those undertakings, the success of which continues to elude mankind. So bad it had Shia Labeouf in it. “Mummy, am I adopted?” TEN BILLION DOLLARS. I don’t even know what to say about these. We’ll draw blood if we have to.

An Incomprehensible Robot And A Massive Hairdo
If I had a time machine I’d go back and do blah blah blah. A load of slushy old chickery flickery. Having her drool all over you like a rabid mastiff. To explain it would be like turning your brain into spaghetti and noodles. A naked woman in the woods. A hammer, some nails and a map of the stars’ homes.

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Thursday, 27 August 2009

The Nutbuster

What are you doing between now and Boxing Day? Compiling a Christmas card list full of people you never hear from? Worrying what to buy for people you hardly know? Praying that Cliff Richard doesn't release a Christmas single?

The Incredible Suit has two plans. If the first is successful, you’ll hopefully hear in the news that every branch of every supermarket has been flattened under the weight of billions of diaries, all of which have had December 24th circled in red with big arrows pointing to it and the words "THIS IS WHEN YOU CAN START SELLING CHRISTMAS JUNK YOU CYNICAL, MONEY-GRABBING TURDPIPES, NOT SEPTEMBER!!!" written in what may be blood.

The second is much less psychotic and considerably less likely to result in me blogging from chokey with only a massive bald bloke called The Nutbuster for company, who wants me to spend Christmas picking up his soap. My plan is to spend the seventeen weeks between now and Boxing Day at the flickhouse watching the following sixteen tiptops-looking films that are released between now and then. If you too would like to get as childishly excitable as me, why not tell your boss you’re doing some important research on internet-based marketing methods and watch these trailers?*

The Hurt Locker August 28
Mesrine: Public Enemy No. 1 August 28
District 9 September 4
Dorian Gray September 6 (which is a Sunday. Bonkers!)
Surrogates September 25
Le Donk & Scor-zay-zee October 9
Up October 9 (Four months after the US release. FOUR MONTHS!)
The Imaginarium Of Dr Parnassus October 16
Thirst October 16
9 October 30
2012 November 13
The Informant! November 20
The Box December 4
Where The Wild Things Are December 11
Avatar December 18
Sherlock Holmes December 26

I am also struggling to contain a happygasm about Gentlemen Broncos but it doesn’t have a release date yet.

Now if that's not a better way to spend the next seventeen weeks than girding your loins for enforced merriment and saving up to buy useless crap that nobody wants, then I don't know what is. Apart from picking up The Nutbuster’s soap, obviously.

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*Because you’re probably not an obsessive freak, that’s why.

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Four Megatons Of Hunk

In a dangerous experiment to contain the most manliness ever gathered together on a single stage, Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman are about to star on Broadway in A Steady Rain, the story of two cops whose friendship is put to the test by something or other, I don't know what, go and see the play and tell me. Apparently only ladyfolk and scrawny gentlemen will be allowed in because the theatre is only licenced to hold four megatons of hunk.

Hugh Jackman plays Denny, a police officer from Chicago. Daniel Craig, by the look of things, plays Ian Beale, a hopeless cafe owner from Walford, London.

Pictorial explanation for overseas readers:

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Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Mildly Crackers Weirdery

I’m well aware that this blog is fast becoming little more than an excuse for me to have a geekgasm every time a new trailer is released, but it really isn’t my fault if people keep puking out exciting trailers is it? IS IT?! No. So stop going on about it.

Today’s miniature slice of microtainment comes in the shape of one solitary minute of mildly crackers weirdery from Batman Begins / The Dark Knight director Christopher "Yet to make a bad film, although Insomnia wasn't all that" Nolan. Imagine the trouble he has squeezing all that onto his passport.

His new film, Inception, is probably so called because it’s so far from a cinematic release that it’s practically still at the inception stage. In fact it’s not due to wallop your nearest big screen for 11 months, so don’t get too excited after watching this:

Described in possibly the most pretentious sentence ever written as a "contemporary science fiction tale set within the architecture of the mind", Inception looks to be just as spanky as Nolan’s other non-Batflicks (Insomnia excepted). Memento is endlessly rewatchable thanks to its barking backwards-forwards-backwards structure and The Prestige, despite having a twist you could see from the cinema car park, was also an atmospheric and disturbing winner. Even Leonardo DiCaprio, who’s sporting that expression that looks like he's trying to calculate a complex equation while holding in a potentially violent fart, might not be able to sink this one.

The filming of Inception is so secretive that rumours started flying round that Nolan was actually making a third Batman film, which is so outrageously mental that it could be true. However, this trailer seems to have dispelled that idea… unless it’s all a cunning ruse; an Inception deception, if you will (you won’t), a magic trick as wicked as anything we saw in The Prestige. Whatever, if it wears a cape and growls like a laryngitic lion it’ll be ace, if it frowns a lot and stubbornly refuses to follow a linear plot it’ll still be ace.

Come back to The Incredible Suit soon for more pointless frothing over ludicrously premature blipverts. I know I would! Well… I might.

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Monday, 24 August 2009

The Incredible Suit Said It Would Be OK

If there’s one thing to cherish on this godforsaken rock of misery we call Earth, it’s Napoleon Dynamite, a completely perfect comedy about not very much at all, which came out in 2004 and nuzzled its way into a niche that only a chosen few have been able to access. Everyone else simply believes it to be “stupid”. Idiots! To see the light and elevate yourself above the rest of society, click here.

If there’s one other thing to cherish in this pitiful existence we insist on perpetuating for no adequately explored reason, it’s Flight Of The Conchords, the TV sitcom about New Zealand’s formerly fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo. If you haven’t seen it stop what you’re doing immediately, run – don’t walk – to the nearest DVD emporium and steal copies of both series. You haven’t got time to pay. If you get arrested just say “The Incredible Suit said it would be OK.” They’ll pretty much leave you alone after that. Then sit down for 11 hours and watch every episode. Alternatively, click here for Conchords-in-a-nutshell grooviness.

Done that? Good. So what could be more lip-smackingly anticipation-inducing than Gentlemen Broncos, a new film by Napoleon Dynamite director Jared Hess, and starring Flight Of The Conchords’ Jemaine Clement, he of the awe-inspiring sideburns and a mouth that looks like two massive pink bananas guarding a cave of unruly tombstones? Not much, that’s what!

OK, so Hess’s last film, Nacho Libre, was bobbins, and Clement’s last film, Eagle vs Shark, lives just - just - on the wrong side of the border between Verygoodland and Notverygoodland. But The Incredible Suit is prepared to regard this evidence as inadmissable, especially on the strength of this trailer:

The important thing to bear in mind about Napoleon Dynamite, Flight Of The Conchords and, by extension, Gentlemen Broncos, is that they’re not guffawfests of bladder-rupturing hilarity. You don’t come away with tears streaming down your chops and a wet patch down your leg. Instead you’ll smile and chuckle all the way through and take the characters into your heart and build a little cosy house for them there where you can pop by any time you like for a cup of tea and a mince pie, and on each visit you’ll find out something new to adore about them. Doesn’t that sound lovely?

Gentlemen Broncos is released in the United States of Must Have Movies Before Everyone Else on October 30th, so expect it to turn up in UK cinemas sometime In The Year 2525. See what I did there? No? Well watch the trailer again, only this time PAY ATTENTION!

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Friday, 21 August 2009

Inglourious Basterds

Well I went to see Inglourious Basterds, and immediately wished I hadn’t. If you like your films filled with vast tracts of dialogue about absolutely nothing, occasionally sprinkled with eruptions of ferocious violence shot with the care and attention of a tender love scene (which is essentially every Quentin Tarantino film), this is for you. It's a bit like sitting through a two and a half hour geography lesson in which the teacher pauses briefly every 30 minutes to lovingly but very noisily stick a fork into a student's eye in a slow motion close up.

Tarantino is clearly at the point where he believes his own press and nobody dares tell him that, you know, perhaps that one scene didn't need to last 20 minutes, and in fact the whole story could have been told in half an hour. Yes, you need time to build tension, but we're only tense because we know it's a Tarantino film and any minute now somebody's going to get their tongue pinned to the bar with a white hot poker and have their stool kicked from under them so they turn themselves inside out before they hit the floor in a quivering pile of viscera. Or something like that.

Inglourious Basterds is only slightly better than Tarantino's last film, Death Proof, because the actors are better. Christoph Waltz stands out as a terrifying SS colonel, although even Shia LaBeouf would be better than enduring Zoe Bell's portrayal of Woody the Woodpecker on top of a wooden shed full of wood in the middle of a wood in Death Proof*. As an actress she makes an excellent stuntwoman. Oh hang on, she is a stuntwoman. Keep your trap shut then and get back on the bonnet of that speeding car!

In other, entirely unrelated news (i.e. it’s about some good films made by a good director), you people have voted for both Alien (correctly) and Thelma & Louise (incorrectly) in equal numbers as the greatest Ridley Scott films, like, ever. Nobody voted for American Gangster, which is a) surprising, as it scored 8 out of 10 on IMDb, and b) unsurprising, because finding anyone who’s actually seen it is harder than finding a good film in a Shia LaBeouf filmography.

This week, go on, tell me what The Greatest Quentin Tarantino Film, Like, Ever is. I was going to throw a Shyamalan and make it What’s The Most Overrated Tarantino Film, Like, Ever, but the answer would be all of them.

The Itchy & Scratchy Show and Quentin Tarantino - The best bloopers are here

*I’m suggesting that she’s wooden

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Thursday, 20 August 2009


With frenzied fanboys frothing at the mouth and I dread to think what other orifices, the first trailer for James Cameron’s Avatar splurged onto the interwebs today in a spasm of colour (mostly blue), action and nonsense. There’s little point in me embedding it here because it’ll only be yanked off by Cameron’s legalbots within picoseconds, and quite rightly too. Imagine the damage I’ll do to the potential squillions Avatar will make at the box office by showing the three readers of The Incredible Suit the trailer. So, for the rest of this post to make any sense, click here to have your eyeballs frottled.

Well wasn’t that underwhelming? For a trailer event so momentous it even got a slot on BBC News (in which George Alagiah hilariously spoke the words “stereoscopic 3D” with the scepticism of a man describing a machine that records your dreams, predicts the lottery results and then gives you oral pleasure) it wasn’t a patch on the trailers for District 9 or Shutter Island. In fact it seemed ostensibly to be a series of scenes from the last Star Wars film which were deleted because George Lucas thought the main characters were a bit blue, and not very convincing. And if something’s so unconvincing even George Lucas won’t put it in his movie, it’s time to worry.
Actually, what’s more worrying is this comment from James Dyer of Empire Magazine from the BBC’s story:

“You’ll see this film in 3D, you’ll be so blown away by it that from then on you’ll want to see all films in 3D, and that a 2D experience is incredibly flat by comparison.”

Apart from Mr Dyer’s astute observation that 2D is flat (give that man a raise!), what a load of tittypiddle. Did he not have to study 1950s cinema to get a job on a film magazine? The world went 3D bonkers for about five minutes with films like Dial M For Murder, House Of Wax and It Came From Outer Space, and then decided that actually, it’s not all that, let’s go to the hop and get a shake instead, Daddio. And will we really want all films in 3D? Wartime dramas? Romantic weepies? Anything with Shia LaBeouf? Not me guv.

Maybe I’m wrong. It’s happened before. Maybe Avatar will change cinema forever, maybe everything will be in 3D from now on, maybe James Cameron will actually be crowned Grand Poobah of the Cosmos. But I doubt it. After all, it’s only a movie; just one with an extra dimension to be overrated in.

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Wednesday, 19 August 2009

Over-Enthusiastic Violence and Wearisome Waffle

Tediously controversial peddler of over-enthusiastic violence and wearisome waffle Quentin Tarantino has a new film out today, the spelling pedant’s nightmare Inglourious Basterds. But when QT asks The Incredible Suit for a poster quote, what will he find in his inbox the next day?


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Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Unlikeable Little Squit

I was recently invited into The Cineastes, a group of bloggers who review a film a month and link their blogs in the hope of spreading the word of whatever it is they're on about at that point.

August's film is Au Revoir Les Enfants, directed by Louis Malle in 1987, and what follows is what happens when you strain French cinema through the fabric of an Incredible Suit.

Au Revoir Les Enfants is set in a Catholic boys' boarding school in Nazi-occupied France in 1944, and is the story of Julien, an unlikeable little squit whose hair is styled into magnificent curtains that wouldn't look out of place in the palace of Versailles, and his friendship with Jean, who looks uncannily like Dexter Fletcher when he was in Press Gang.

Curtains is a defensive little terrier who'll fight anyone who threatens to pinch his jam, though it's clear that his bravado is a masquerade to cover the fact that he's the least mature of all the boys, desperately missing his mum and regularly soaking his sheets with wee wee water. When Little Dexter joins the school, Curtains is initially aggressive but gradually becomes drawn to him, and when it turns out that Little Dexter has a dark secret - he's a Jew hiding from the Gestapo - Curtains becomes oddly fascinated.

While on the surface Au Revoir Les Enfants is a moving story about friendship and childhood, it's also a metaphor for the treacherous path to adulthood. Amongst the excitement of discovering alcohol, cigarettes, girls and porn, Curtains has to face his fears, lose his selfish streak and generally become a man over the course of a few short weeks.

The title itself is a big clue to the theme of the film, and it's only at the very end that we hear the voice of a 50-something-year-old Curtains, grown up physically but never able to forget the day he lost his innocence and much more, waving farewell to childhood as circumstances force him into manhood before he's ready.

Louis Malle tells his largely autobiographical story efficiently and with a good grasp on what it's like to be a snotty brat at a time when global warfare was less traumatising than wetting the bed, and the whole film is shot in the murky greys of a French winter fading in Malle's memory banks for 40-odd years. And though the acting occasionally leaves a little to be desired, the writing and direction give us all we need to transport ourselves to a time of innocence, curiosity and floppy hair.

Au Revoir Les Enfants isn't the kind of film The Incredible Suit would choose to sit down and watch on a day off from the coal face of bloggery, but it's always worth sitting in someone else's comfort zone for a couple of hours just to see if the indentation left by their bottom is a similar shape to yours. In this case I can safely say that I won't be rushing off to buy a Louis Malle box set, but I'll certainly pay more attention to him in the future. In fact on the strength of this film alone he could easily bring the realism of teen angst to the final Harry Potter film. If he wasn't dead, obviously.

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You can read the rest of The Cineastes’ reviews of Au Revoir Les Enfants by clicking their links below:

Allan Gray’s Imagination
The Bronze
Octopus Cinema
Walking In The Cinema
Hope Lies At 24 Frames Per Second
Nouvelle Vague Cinematheque
The Third Act

Thursday, 13 August 2009

Trouser-Browning Terror

Glorified Hovis salesman Ridley Scott is apparently preparing a prequel to his masterpiece, Alien. As you know, Alien is a completely perfect film, which clamped itself to the face of moviedom, shoved a tentacle down its throat and left a little something in its belly, which burst forth from the very ribcage of cinema in the shape of Aliens, another completely perfect film.

Aliens then went on to do a big sloppy poo on the lounge carpet, which appeared to be called Alien Cubed, and that poo had a little worm living in it which became Alien Resurrection, but we do not speak of such things here at The Incredible Suit.

Having put you off your lunch, let me get on with this prequel nonsense. Much as I love Alien, Ridley Scott is one of those directors – like Tim Burton and Martin Scorsese – whose films I blindly look forward to and hope will be fantastic, despite knowing full well that they frequently turn out to be a bit cack. Blade Runner? Not bad, but hardly the second coming it’s made out to be. Gladiator? Overrated. Hannibal? I’d rather eat my own brains.

So I’m afraid I can’t get excited about an Alien prequel. If it absolutely must be made (it mustn’t) then I suppose Scott’s the man to do it (or James Cameron), but I can’t see how it’ll work. Alien and Aliens succeed because we identify with the humans and share their trouser-browning terror at the prospect of an unsolicited trepanning at the hands of a vicious space beastie. But for a prequel to work it would have to show how the Aliens got involved with the ‘Space Jockey’, the fossilized, horribly violated creature we see near the beginning of Alien in the derelict spacecraft. Personally I’d rather not know; I can make up my own backstory for him. Maybe he was an intergalactic pizza delivery boy who turned up at the Aliens’ house 45 minutes late with the wrong topping and forgot the garlic bread, in which case he got everything he deserved.

My point is, the story would require the complete absence of humans to remain plausible, and the only successful movies not to feature any actual, genuine, living, breathing people are the High School Musical films.

There are dozens more obstacles in the way of this project, so if Ridders pulls it off it’ll be a minor miracle. In which case I’ll be only too happy to blog about it and say, “I told you it would be brilliant”, and that’ll be the poster quote you’ll see at bus stops and train stations the world over.

The Incredible Suit's Top 5 Ridley Scott films:
1. Alien
2. Blade Runner
3. Thelma & Louise
4. Er…
5. Hmm.

Of course what I really want to know is: What’s your greatest Ridley Scott film, like, ever? I know, let’s do a poll! Which reminds me, The Breakfast Club was your favourite John Hughes film. You’re wrong. Weird Science is tiptops.

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Monday, 10 August 2009

The Quaid

A few days ago I tried to share with the world my respect and admiration for Dennis Quaid, but for reasons I don’t fully understand it swiftly turned into an ugly rant against Mary Jane Watson from the Spider-Man movies. Well you’ll be pleased to know I’ve got that out of my system and I find myself in a much happier place. Quaidland.

“The Quaid”, as I expect he likes to be known, is a legendary actor of great likeability, vast talent and cheeky dimples. Sadly it’s been his misfortune to appear in some utter bum chutney over the years. I don’t know why this is; perhaps his agent is a mallard or a wombat or some other creature incapable of identifying a good script.

Part of The Quaid’s problem is that he’s very similar to Harrison Ford in appearance and demeanour, and he had the hard cheese to be making his name in the 1980s, a decade which will probably one day be rebranded as ‘the Harrison Fordies’ due to his scruffy-but-lovable-hero-based dominance of the box office.

Incidentally, I was in a restaurant once when I overheard this conversation between some middle-aged types at a nearby table:

“We watched Air Force One yesterday”
“Who’s in that?”
“Harrison Ford, I think”
“You mean, Harrison Ford Fiesta!”
“HA HA HA HA HA!!! Yes, Harrison Ford Fiesta!”

I had to be physically restrained from going over and replacing all of their eyeballs with pickled onions.

So The Quaid had to pick up the scraps Harrison Ford left behind, which was a shame because he might have made a good Jack Ryan in Patriot Games, and he could have done something with Regarding Henry and Working Girl that didn’t make them the movie equivalent of a glass of cod liver oil and raw eggs. Had he been in Frantic he may even have been able to give the impression of being awake.

Fortunately, The Quaid has brought us some gems over the years. InnerSpace is a groovy sci-fi adventure romp; Dreamscape is a cathedral of bonkersness about entering and manipulating people’s dreams, and Frequency is a heartwarming slice of cheesecake about a dead bloke talking to his son, across time, through a knackered radio. Less fortunately, American Dreamz, in which The Quaid finally gets to play the President, is quite literally one of the worst films ever made, and Vantage Point is as predictable and annoying as a Coldplay album.

What’s important, though, is that The Quaid is legend in all these films. He’s in his fifties now and he’s always been stuck at the border patrol of Megastardomland, frantically waving his passport and begging to be let in, so it’s time he found something truly brilliant to show how skill he is. Sadly everyone in the civilized world can see that his next two films, GI Joe: The Rise Of The Cobra and Pandorum will suck bowling balls through a straw, so it looks like we’ll have to wait a bit longer.

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Sunday, 9 August 2009

Stomach-Churning Pole Dance

You know who you are. I know who you are.

Listen: True Lies was directed by James Cameron and stars Arnold Schwarzenegger in his least believable role as a husband and father leading an unlikely double life as a secret agent. It famously features Jamie Lee Curtis doing a stomach-churning pole dance in her smalls which immediately negates all the good work Cameron did for ladyfolk with Aliens and the Terminator movies.

True Romance was directed by Tony Scott and was the first script written by Quentin Tarantino in his inimitable, already-tiresome style. It stars Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette as two crazy kids trying to flog a shedload of questionably-sourced cocaine to a Hollywood bigshot while being mithered by the ghost of Elvis.

While it’s probably fair to say True Romance is better than True Lies, that doesn’t mean it should win a poll in which it wasn’t even nominated. That’s just silly.

This week’s poll is: What’s the greatest John Hughes film, like, ever? Now, please don’t confuse The Breakfast Club with Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Sixteen Candles does not feature Bruce Willis dragging Mos Def through New York, that’s 16 Blocks. And Uncle Buck is not about a 20th Century astronaut frozen for 500 years only to discover that everybody is dressed like they’re at a 1970s swingers’ party.

Honestly, you guys. Must try harder!

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Friday, 7 August 2009

John Hughes 1950 – 2009

The Incredible Suit would like to take a moment to thank the late John Hughes for:

But not for:

So… ANSWER THE QUESTION, CLAIRE!! What’s the greatest John Hughes movie, like, ever?

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Thursday, 6 August 2009

Trapped In A Dustbin

It’s about this time of the week that the world waits with baited breath for the results of The Incredible Suit’s weekly poll, and I satisfy that demand with a meticulously crafted graphic representation and poetic prose hewn from the mightiest oaks of wit and arranged on the screen with the care of the world’s most careful carer of things.

Unfortunately some berk has set the end of the poll for 24 hours later than usual, so you’re going to have to come back after 5pm on Friday to discover what the readers of The Incredible Suit deemed The Greatest James Cameron Film, Like, Ever! Except you won’t, because I know for a fact that at least half the people who voted for True Lies, which is currently in the lead, thought they were voting for True Romance, which wasn’t directed by James Cameron and has nothing in common with True Lies apart from the fact that there are some people in it, talking. So a fat lot of good that poll is.

It doesn’t matter anyway because I watched Aliens again recently and can confirm that it’s far and away Cameron’s best work. It’s a 10 out of 10 perfect action thriller that feels like spending two and a half hours trapped in a dustbin while the most terrifying nightmares your mind could generate try to get in and eat bits of you that you’d really rather keep hold of. And I should know, I’ve stayed in the Formule 1 Hotel in Liverpool.

So with no poll result to announce and no new poll to kick off because I haven’t thought of anything yet, I’ll have to pull something else from the sleeves of The Incredible Suit. Hello, what’s this? Why, it’s something incredible! It’s a cheeky song written by Joe Cornish for BBC 6 Music’s Adam & Joe Show! If you’re living in a state of blissful ignorance of the Adam & Joe show (if you can call that ‘living’), it’s a weekly work of such sublime genius you could fatten it up, put a suit on it and call it Alfred Hitchcock.

It’s off air for the summer so don’t pop a sprocket trying to find it. But when it’s back, at the very least download the weekly podcast and listen to it on the way to work, especially if you’re the kind of person who likes to freak out fellow commuters by spontaneously snotting yourself with laughter for no apparent reason.

Anyway Joe wrote this song for the show’s Song Wars slot, which I haven’t got the arsedness to explain right now, but it’s basically a theme song for the latest Bond film, Quantum Of Solace. Yes, they did it about nine months ago but they’ve just put it on their website to download for nought pee, so I recommend you do so. Adam wrote one too but sadly it was like Moonraker to Joe’s Goldfinger. Sorry Adam, I know you’re reading this.

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Wednesday, 5 August 2009

Preposterous Claptrap

I like to tell anyone who can’t escape - for example, people in lifts, supermarket queues, my basement - how much I love Dennis Quaid. Not in a romantic sense you understand, although I do believe in man-love – only the other day I watched Spider-Man 3 and almost went out to buy a new hat after seeing Peter Parker and Harry Osborn get back together only for tragedy to come between them again. By ‘tragedy’ I mean Mary Jane Watson, that selfish, whining, thoughtless cow whose herculean efforts to get herself kidnapped every time there’s a new super-villain in town repeatedly put Spidey’s life in danger.

I really have had it up to the cephalothorax with that dozy mare, banging on about her ‘career’ and spouting preposterous claptrap like “I’ve always been standing in your doorway”. Get out of the bloody doorway, woman! That’s why Pete has to keep leaping out of the window, putting himself at even greater risk! The whole of New York depends on him and here you are, forcing him off the fire escape before launching yourself into the clutches of the nearest evil genius so that he has to leave orphans burning just to rescue you! Again!

She really should have popped her clogs in the first film when the Green Goblin dumped her off that bridge. That’s what happened in the comics, except it wasn’t her, it was the ravishing Gwen Stacy, who was far more likeable. Then they could have introduced the comic version of Mary Jane, a right saucy minx who teased Peter Parker till his undercracker elastic could barely take the strain. Instead we got Mrs Whingey-Knickers for three films and a Gwen Stacy in the third who was about as ravishing as Uncle Ben (by which I mean Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben, not the chap who sells the curry sauce. Although he’s no looker either).

Mary Jane hits new heights of selfish bitchery in Spider-Man 3 when she’s booted off her Broadway show for being useless and spends the rest of the film blarting about it. While Pete’s on a high because he’s finally found peace with simultaneously being a super-hero and a friendless geek (Not unlike The Incredible Suit), she’s bringing him down into a depression so deep he grows his hair over his face and starts wearing black all the time, even as Spider-Man! Give me strength.

Anyway, I was going to tell you about my man-love for Dennis Quaid but that moaning strumpet has made me all cross so I’m going to have to have a nice lie down. Grrr!

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Monday, 3 August 2009

Pork Chop

I haven’t really got anything to say today.

However, here’s a picture of a pork chop that looks like Darth Vader’s helmet:

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