A Guide To Making It Out Of The Hobbit Alive

Oh my God, he looks happy. I think he made it out. HOW?!?!?!?! Tell me how you got out of this movie!!!!!!

So you’ve found yourself stuck in the unending abyss that is The Hobbit The Desolation Of Smaug. Maybe you got here by accident, thought you were walking into Medea’s Christmas Fun Time or whatever. Maybe you purposely paid money to feel your butt gradually numb over an undetermined amount of hours. Maybe you’re like me, and just want to fuck someone who wants to see The Hobbit, and you’ve made it here for their sake. Whatever the case, you’re stuck, for like, ever, and I’m here to help you survive.


First of, you’ll need food. And, no, I’m not talking about popcorn or Snowcaps or whatever shitty junk your local theater provides. This is an endurance test, damn it, your body needs real live nutrients if it’s going to survive The Hobbit. It needs a sandwich.

Now, of course the toppings are up to you. I personally like a turkey and ham combo with just a tiny spread of guac and provolone cheese on seven grain bread. It’s hearty and will hit the spot around hour five. But don’t get cocky man, it’s dark in that theater. You don’t want something sloppy like a French Dip. Or something that’ll stink up the joint like a tuna melt. No way man, this sandwich isn’t for savoring. It’s solely there to make sure you don’t die before the credits roll. So choose your toppings wisely.


I know some of you sneak booze into movie theaters. I myself love to bring in a cold brew while watching a nice stupid action film. But, be warned, this isn’t something I’d recommend for The Hobbit. If you end up drinking too much this film time might start to feel slower. You don’t want that in a movie that’s already too long to begin with.

Myself? I brought a Big Gulp from 7-11. It was big enough to last me through the first hour. And, bonus, I had to piss by hour two so I got a little respite from the tedium.


Now, it’s just a given with a film as long and boring as The Hobbit is, you’re going to fall asleep. I recommend dozing off around the six-hour mark, when the group gets to a Lake City. Nothing happens there. And they’re there for four hours. So, go ahead, nod off and get some energy back before the ten minutes of actual plot kick in.

But, be careful, you don’t want to strain your neck. Bring a pillow, maybe even a blanket. That way you’re nice and comfy during your nap.


Look, this film took days from me. People thought I was dead. My mom was beside herself. Truth. You don’t want people worrying needlessly about your well-being. Don’t be a prick. Call someone, let them know where you’ll be, that way, after a week passes without hearing from you, they’ll know that you’re just watching The Hobbit.

Just follow these easy steps and you will be guaranteed to see the light of day, some day. Far into the future, whenever The Hobbit finally ends. Truth be told, it still hasn’t. I’m writing this from the theater. I’ve been here for a week. Guys, I’m scared. Please, call for help, I don’t think Peter Jackson has edited a second of this film. Tell my dog I love him.

Grade: C-

12 Years Avoids Oscar’s Paint By Numbers

Pronounce it with me, people. E-Chew-It-Tell Edge-E-O-Four. Bam, who said you couldn’t learn something from my blog?

Sometimes, when I’m out on a date with a hottie with a naughty body, I just know the chick is putting on a facade. The right words roll off her tongue. Her makeup is almost too perfect. And, if she’s exceptionally eager, she’ll even know a thing or two about Scorsese’s career. The point is: everything is flawless but it never seems genuine. It seems like she’s trying to be something that’ll impress me, instead of just showing her tits and actually impressing me. And that’s basically the same feeling I have when I watch certain quote unquote Oscar films.

Take The King’s Speech, I can’t technically say a bad word about that film. It’s a sturdy film. The cinematography is clever. The acting is exceptional. And there’s a clear emotional through-line from beginning to end. It talks, walks, and acts like an Oscar-winning movie should be. And that’s the problem. It wasn’t created out of love. It was assembled to win prizes.

Do you know what film was different, fresh, and exciting the very same year The King’s Speech won? The Social Network. It was a timely parable about greed in America, and the cost of success. And it was unlike anything else nominated that year. But it didn’t walk the Oscar walk. And you know which film won, despite the fact that it didn’t push the art of film forward? That’s right, The King’s Speech.

You see, some movies don’t want to be remembered, or stand the test of time. They just want an award. The creators think if you make it historical, add high-caliber actors with accents, and be long and boring, you can win an Oscar. And they’re generally right. Which is why I was worried about 12 Years a Slave. It looked less like an amazing film and more like uninspired Oscar bait. But, don’t worry folks, 12 Years of Slave is incredibly inspired.

Cause, yes, there’s a lot that’s textbook Oscar in his film. It’s historical. And the cast is downright amazing. They all even use accents of various Southern fried sorts. But director Steve McQueen- (Who, as an aside, directed the equally radical Shame. Check it out, I swear it isn’t just soft core porn.)- isn’t just painting by numbers. His passion for this story really shines through in bold, interesting choices.

For instance, most films dealing with slavery tend to shy away from the actual violence that was part and parcel with human bondage. But 12 Years puts it front and center, almost daring the viewer to look away. There are some scenes of brutality that last a good two minutes longer than they should. And the effect is a strong one. McQueen doesn’t want the viewer to be able to escape the atrocities done to slaves. He wants us to feel them. And, believe me, for the length he holds his shots in this movie, you’d be an emotionless zombie not to feel something.

So, thank the Cinema Gods, 12 Years a Slave actually has some real juice. It’s a great movie that should be required viewing for people with morals. And, come Oscar time, I’m sure it’ll clean up. And, while Gravity is the younger, leaner film, 12 Years is completely deserving of everything it has coming to it.

Grade: A

Frozen Or How Disney Got Its Groove Back

Don’t worry Disney. You’ll find your footing one day.

I’m gonna embarrass myself here, card carrying Vag Pounder after all, but I fucking love Disney cartoons. Or, at least I used to, the old ones, the ones where animals talked, princesses sang, and everyone lived happily ever after. Their animation catalogue is, cumulatively, some of the most timeless films ever created. And they got that way through a mixture of pixie dust, memorable music, and focus on, as I always harp is more important than anything, character.

Yet, over the last twelve years-ish, Disney has suffered an identity crisis. One that started with Pixar, grew with Dreamworks, and flamed out spectacularly with Meet The Robinsons. And it was all because Disney stopped trusting who it was and what it did best.

I don’t blame them. Anyone would get an identity crisis if they started comparing themselves to Pixar. Pixar, in the early nineties, was new and shiny. The  pretty new girl everyone wanted to fuck. Plus it raked in a shit ton of dough. Around the time Pixar was rising, Disney was on the wane. The company had trouble with traditional musicals like Tarzan. So they switched to non-musicals, like Atlantis, which also failed spectacularly. Nothing seemed to strike a chord with the masses.

The company was at a crossroads. Pixar made it look easy. Dreamworks hit big with Shrek. And, for the next decade, Disney would lose itself. And I mean REALLY lose itself. We’re talking I’m-gonna-buy-three-corvettes-and-date-nineteen-year-old-girls level midlife crisis loss of self. They tried everything. They copied Dreamworks with Chicken Little. They copied Pixar with Meet The Robinsons. Nothing worked. Nothing stuck. They were a company lost thanks to a mixture of corporate greed and jealousy.

Then fate intervened. Pixar was officially absorbed into the Disney brand. And, with that, brought in John Lasseter, the only man alive who might possibly live up to Walt Disney himself. See, Mr. Lasseter knows that good story and character trump everything. He also knew that the one thing Disney did best is earnest musicals. If Disney did that, and did it well, the money would follow.

Now, I’m not going to lie, there’s been a bit of a learning curve. Disney basically had to reset and learn how to make great films again. They showed exceptional promise with The Princess and The Frog. Took a bit of a step back with Tangled. And almost got it right with Wreck-It Ralph. But, with Frozen, they seem to have finally gotten their shit together. I get that’s a long way to go just to say, “I fucking loved Frozen.” But, whatever, Disney had me worried there but after watching Frozen, I’m ready to welcome them back with open arms.

Everything about Frozen is both familiar and new. There are princesses, dashing heroes, magic, wacky sidekicks, and musical numbers. Everything that made Disney great is out in full force. But, because this is an older and wiser company, the plot twists trump clichés just enough to surprise the audience.

Because, truly, there are some very un-Disney ideas in this film. First and foremost, the main relationship in the film is between two sisters. Their love lives take a back seat to some really solid female bonding. In fact, this might be the most feminist Disney cartoon of all time. Yes, they have the standard Disney love story thrown in, but the main conflict comes from two sister trying to help each other.

Listen, I could write about this film all day. It made me feel warm and fuzzy like few films have in recent memory. It’s fucking gorgeous. The characters are vibrant and likable. It’s Disney as it should be. The company isn’t trying to emulate other animation houses. They’re not trying to relive their glory days. Nope. This is a studio that, finally, after years of failed ideas and identity crises, understands what they do best. And what they do best is sincere musicals that have the potential to stand the test of time.

Welcome back, Disney. I greatly missed you.

Grade: A

Oldboy and The Great Wide Cultural Divide

Man, those Goonies REALLY didn’t age well.

Warning and all that bullshit: this review contains massive spoilers. So, if you read past this paragraph I’m going to assume you’ve seen either the OG Old Boy or the Spike Lee Joint of Oldboy. If you haven’t seen either, and you keep reading, I don’t want to hear you bitching and whining about how I spoiled the plot. Here. I’ll throw in a picture of a baby hedgehog while you run away.


Still here? Cool, welcome aboard. Right off the bat, I love Oldboy. The original Korean film, that is. It’s a slick little thriller that’s as funny as it is tense. It’s a damn great film so the idea of an American remake should have been something I was against on principle.

Yet, to be honest, I’m kind of ok with foreign remakes. Sometimes idiot viewers won’t watch things with subtitles. And there’s a dearth of great foreign films that average Americans should watch. You know, if they weren’t stupid and could tolerate subtitles. So, yeah, it’s fine by me when a foreign film crosses over. But this new Oldboy proves that, sometimes, movies can’t bridge that cultural gap.

The original Oldboy is very much a product of it’s country. The women of Korea are more submissive than here in America. Guns are banned there. Honor and pride aren’t as important to Americans. And suicide is a rampant problem throughout South Korea. All of these things work to make Oldboy the plot possible.

The plot simply couldn’t work if Mi-Do happened to be a young girl in America. She’d straight up think that Dae-su is a crazy person. And she’d be right. And she’d run away. And the plot would end right there. No incest would occur. The female in the new version, Marie played by Olson Twin Little Sister, isn’t a push over like Mi-Do. She’s a bleeding heart with a drug addiction. That’s how they try and play off her connection to the man, Joe played by Goonie Baby Brolin. She wants to help him because she’s been in tough spots before.

On one hand, it’s a fairly effective way to sidestep such a gender difference in cultures. I might even be ok with it if the other changes gelled like they should have. But, instead, it’s just one giant dump on a classic film.

For instance, not that I want guns. Because guns generally make any action scene boring as fuck. Case in point: watch OG Oldboy. Those action shots hum along with only a hammer in sight. The new one barely uses guns either. But it doesn’t make any fucking sense. It’s ‘Merica, damn it. Goonie Baby Brolin should be blasting everyone in sight if he’s as angry as the script says.

And, finally, onto the incest. OG Oldboy had the balls to commit to the idea of a father sleeping with his daughter. It was creepy. And horrible. And it made for a hell of an ambiguous ending. Americans, however, don’t do well with incest or ambiguity. So, instead of sticking the landing, Spike Lee pounds home a rather obvious “incest is wrong” moral that robs the film of any teeth it had.

Look, I’m not going to say the Oldboy remake is horrible. It’s not. It’s competent and fairly lean. But, what I will say, is that everything that makes Oldboy special isn’t in the remake because American audiences can’t handle things that don’t involve unicorns farting rainbows. And, as such, the Oldboy remake becomes another soulless experiment another American movie studio.

Grade: D-

Rush and the Endangered Adult Film

I’m not gay. But I’d totally let those beautiful blue eyes fuck the shit out of me. No homo.

I harp on this a lot. But it bears repeating: cinema is in a very dangerous loop with no end in sight. There’s a startling lack of originality going on, recycling of brand names, and general dumbing down of anything resembling intelligent in Hollywood. And, yes, to a certain extent that’s always been the case with populous art. And I don’t want to sound like the cranky old fart railing against a changing system. But this is different. The system isn’t changing. It’s dying.

How did we get here? Easy. Movies became more expensive to produce. Ticket prices rose. And the American public became more picky about what films they went to. And, by picky, I mean Americans would only plunker-down a couple of Lincolns if the movie was about something they were familiar with. Thus, Hollywood started making sequels. Hard. Those made money. So Hollywood made more sequels. Those also made money. So Hollywood started mining the well to see what other famous brands could be rebooted or sequeled. That’s how Robert Downey Jr got cast as a sexy, hip Sherlock Holmes. That’s how Spider-man got remade not five years after the last Spider-man ended.

And now we’re here. The well is running dry friends. Fast and Furious is getting a seventh film. Disney plans to put the last bullet into Star Wars’ already decaying body. And Ron Howard, not the greatest of directors but a sturdy one with enough clout, has trouble bank rolling new, non-sequel films like Rush.

Rush stars Thor and this Racer Dude. They both drive fast. Thor believes racing is a natural talent. You’re born with it or you’re not. Racer Dude believes races come down to science. So he studies cars a lot. The story is basically about their rivalry and how deeply one person can affect someone’s life.

It’s a fine film. A damn fine film. A film that doesn’t rely on aliens or cgi boogie men. It’s all about character. And, another point I always try to make on this fuck-filled blog, character is always paramount to a movie’s success.

Yet, flicks like this are becoming harder and harder to come by. Smart writing, writing that’s fun and original, is slowly moving to television. That’s where smart and discerning adults have been turning to. Which means they don’t spend money on smart character pieces like Rush. Which means He-Man and Ninja Barbie Go To Disney isn’t far from getting made.

So I write this as a plea. Please, please, please save the Endangered Original Film. Don’t wait until flicks like these come to Blu-Ray. Don’t sit at home and watch Breaking Bad for the millionth time. And, especially, think twice before giving your hard-earned money to anything with a number behind its name.

Because, by supporting the sequel, by saving our money for Avenger’s 3 and Star Wars 38, we create the perception that we like this shit. And we don’t. Believe me, I’ve scanned enough internet message boards to know that we’re tired of sequels. We want new ideas. We’re just blaming the wrong people. This isn’t Hollywood’s fault. Hollywood is a moneymaking venture that will happily make anything we’re willing to pay for. And right now we’re handing them money to create stupid sequels and boring reboots.

We can do better.

Grade: A-

Don Jon And The Battle Of The Sexes

Dude, we don’t understand each other, but we’re sure as hell gonna fuck each other.

Listen, dude, bro, I ain’t gonna sugarcoat it for you. The battle of sexes is real and it is fierce. Look no further than movies. I’ll use this couple I know, we’ll call them Ross and Rachael, as an example.

Ross, like most red blooded American men who like to pound vag, loves watching action flicks. Riddick is a good time at the movies for him. Stupid hero? Check. Big explosions? Check. Hot chicks? A requirement. You throw these things into a movie and Ross is a happy camper. Other than that, leave him alone while he watches porn. And don’t even think about tempting him with stupid, cliché-ridden romantic comedies because shit like that doesn’t happen in real life.

Now we’re going to focus on Rachael, another prototypical example of the American dream, but with a vagina. See Rachael works hard all day. And she doesn’t need to be bothered worrying about her relationships or her family or even work. She just wants to veg out and watch something that will make her heart flutter a bit. That’s why Rachael picks romance more than any other genre. But, seriously, don’t talk to her about action movies because they only star stupid monosyllabic idiots and have fights that could never possibly happen in real life.

You see where I’m going with this, right? Both Ross and Rachael are fucking idiots. Both genres of films, any genre of film we watch too much in fact, warp our perception of reality. But, more than that, all film is supposed to be escapism. Of course nothing that happens in film can happen in real life. THAT’S WHY IT’S A FUCKING FILM!!! So, at the end of the day, all we’re left with is a deflated ego and unreliable expectations when it comes to the real world. It’s a topic I could speak, and sometimes do after a beer too many, at great length. It’s also a topic I never thought a film would be brave enough to tackle. But, what do you know, that Kid From 3rd Rock made a film about gender expectations in film. And it’s damn good.

Don Jon is all about this Guido from Jersey who likes to party and fuck. He’s a bad ass, basically. And, when he’s not balling chicks, he’s pounding down some porn for good measure. One day he meets Black Widow with a Jersey Accent and they hit it off. She wants him to stop watching porn. She says it makes him numb. Yet she can’t stop watching, and comparing, her life to a romantic comedy.

Listen, if effective writing is about establishing clear conflict and allowing that conflict to reach a boiling point, Don Jon works wonders. You know, from the first line, what Jon stands for. Then Black Widow comes along and, in a very realistic and smart way, stands for everything he’s not. It’s as simple as it is compelling.

It’s also very timely. It deals with the tired trope of man-boys like me without ever condescending to the viewer. And it also paints a realistic picture of today’s dating scene, which is equally impressive and sad.

So, the next time your significant other says they don’t want to watch your favorite genre, call them an idiot. Because we all gotta get out of our box. We all should try new things. And all genres are equally cliché ridden. If you don’t believe me, watch Don Jon, that dude will set you straight.

Grade: B+

Prisoners Lives In The Gray

The Wolverine will tear off your fucking face if you mess with his kids.

A couple of days ago I watched Admission for the first time. I know right. The worst. But this chick I was trying to bang suggested we rent it and my penis will sit through anything if it’s getting blown at the end. Anyway, spoiler alert, Admission is about Tina Fey trying to find her son she put up for adoption years earlier. After a few long, uninspired hours the film ends with the son deciding she doesn’t want to meet Tina Fey. Roll Credits.

My broad was all upset by this. I asked her why and she responded, “Well, I’ll never know if she gets to meet her son. It would have been better if the film ended with the son dying. Then I’d know for sure everything was over.”

I then replied, “But that wasn’t the point of the film. If they killed off the son they would have had to tack on another thirty minutes to tie everything up. The whole moral is designed to be ambiguous.”

To which she shot back, “Well that’s stupid.”

The ambiguous narrative ain’t for everyone. I get it. But I tend to eat these stories up. There’s a lot of gray in the world and sometimes answers don’t come so easy. And they sure as hell aren’t wrapped up in two hours like most movies. So, it’s with that love of ambiguity, that I quite liked Prisoners. But, be warned, you won’t find things easily compartmentalized.

Prisoners stars The Wolverine and the Pimp from Hustle and Flow. Their daughters disappear. And The Wolverine is all like, “RAAAWAEEERRRRR FUCKING RAWWWWRRRRR I’M GONNA KILL THE BITCH THAT KIDNAPPED MY GIRL!!!!” So he sets Donnie Darko on the case but Darko is a slow son of a bitch so The Wolverine goes, “FUCK YOU DARKO I’M GONNA BEAT THE GUY THAT STOLE MY PRINCESS!!! RAWWWWRRRR!!!!!”

There’s a lot of meat to chew on here. Meat that, with a lesser director and cast, could have fallen by the wayside and made Prisoners a paint by number thriller. And, in a lot of cases, it is fairly straight forward. If you’ve seen an episode of SVU, you can probably anticipate the narrative beats. But, unlike SVU, Prisoners does a really good job showing what crimes actually do to victims. We get to see The Wolverine hit the bottle a little too hard. His wife shuts down completely. And we don’t really begrudge them when they decide to take matters into their own hands.

Yet they’re never portrayed as heroes. Lord no, they’re real and flawed and probably have years of therapy to deal with following the events of the film. That’s where Prisoners succeeds. The bad guys are never quite purely evil. And the good guys don’t wear white.

So, if that’s you’re cup of tea, go for it. It’s a dour and sturdy flick that shouldn’t have gotten made by a big studio in this day and age. Main stream movies like this need more attention so hopefully Hollywood will stop making Pirates of The Caribbean 20. But, be warned, there’s nothing but gray at the end of this tunnel.

Grade: B+

Riddick Ignores Basic Three Act Structure And Bangs Lesbians

He has a magical penis, people!!!! One that makes even Lesbians all hot and bothered!!!!

A couple of dudefriendbros asked me why I always compare film to sex in my reviews. They don’t see the logical connections between pounding a nice ripe ass and an hour or two narrative. It’s simple. First, I’m a dude, bro, I like to fuck so I equate fucking to most things in life. But second, and more importantly, good sex rolls out exactly like a story. Bad sex, well, bad sex is all over the place and ends up making you question reality. Like Riddick. Riddick plays out exactly like shitty sex.

Riddick is about this space alien with cool eyes who used to be cool two movies ago. Now he’s kind of a joke. He just sits around with one facial expression and doesn’t really do anything all that awesome. But people want him dead anyway. So he has to fight them and other aliens.

It sounds way more exciting than it is. And, yes, there are nuggets of good ideas here in the film. Little scenes that pop or maybe an awesomely violent death that make you pray against all odds that the film will somehow do better, become more. Because this is a passion project for 2 Bald And Furious Guy. He put a lot of his money on the line to make this stinker and it doesn’t show. And I mainly blame the writers for ignoring simple rules of writing.

All right, so most stories, simple ones, more good ones than bad, follow the simple three act structure. There’s a beginning that houses most of the exposition and lays groundwork for the stakes of the story. There’s a middle that raises those stakes to an inevitable conclusion. And then there’s the end that contains the climax and falling action of said stakes.

Now, this isn’t just the pervert in me, but that sounds a lot like sex. When I fuck a broad there is a definite beginning, middle, and end. I’m telling that bitch a night time story she’ll remember for the rest of her life. Good movies will stick like that too. But Riddick doesn’t have three acts. It has three stories that are loosely tied together but never quite gel.

The first third is Riddick stuck on a planet, trying to survive, finding a loyal alien dog to hunt with. It’s alright, if it lead somewhere important, but it gets ignored pretty quickly and, thus, lags on far too long.

Then these hunters come to kill Riddick. This is the best act of the film, the one where I felt things might be looking up. There are some pretty rad deaths. And actual dialogue. And Starbuck shows up too. But then everything cool here goes down the drain once the third act starts and Riddick becomes nothing more than a Pitch Black rip off. There’s even some weird section where Riddick pointlessly turns a lesbian straight. It’s a fucking mess.

Look, I get it, Pitch Black ruled and the Chronicles Of Riddick sucked. But that doesn’t mean you have to create Pitch Black with new aliens. It’s worse than lazy. It’s offensive and boring, like bad sex. I don’t tolerate bad sex and I sure as shit won’t tolerate Riddick films anymore.

Grade: F+-++–

Blue Jasmine Vs The World’s End And Unlikable Characters

He’s a douche bag. But you’ll still like him.

“Say what?!?” You might find yourself saying as you realize I’m about to compare and contrast Blue Jasmine and The World’s End.

“Dudebro, you beautiful Son of a Bitch,” You’ll say. “Those films have nothing in common. One is a character study set around the financial collapse of rich white people and the other is a fast paced action comedy with aliens. Clearly, there’s nothing similar about the two.”

To which I’d say, “Shut your fucking mouth, you dirty whore. I can compare any fucking film I want at any fucking time. And, you know what, you smell bad. And I hate your lazy eye. And the two films have incredibly similar character arcs. So. Yeah. Shut it.”

Now, Blue Jasmine is Woody Allen’s new flick. It’s getting a lot of buzz because he’s Woody Allen and the acting in the film is damn sharp. It’s all about this rich bitch named Jasmine who becomes poor because she married an asshole on Wall street. So then she basically drinks the rest of the film and feels sorry for herself.

The World’s End, conversely, is Edgar Write’s new opus. And it, unlike Blue Jasmine, lives up to the hype. This one is about Drunken Shawn of the Dead feeling sorry for himself because he’s not as cool as he used to be. So he rounds up his buddies and they all go out drinking with some aliens. The aliens get pissed. People end up dead. It’s pretty damn fun.

At first blush, sure, you’re right. There’s nothing alike about these films. Until you watch the main characters. Jasmine is a drunken asshole who dreams of better times. She whines. Drinks. Whines some more. Before finally acting like a crazy person. Drunken Shawn of the Dead is also a drunken asshole. He also dreams of betters times. He even whines before drinking. Then drinks some more.

They are, on a basic level, blueprints for an unlikable lead, characters we’re not especially supposed to root for, but enjoy none the less. Tony Soprano is a great example of this character-type. That guy was a fucking cunt. Yet, for some reason, mostly because of his complex portrayal, we ended up liking the guy despite his failings. I love unlikable characters. They’re fun and engaging as they are frustrating. But, at the end of the day, Blue Jasmine fails where The World’s Ends soars. Why?

Simple, Blue Jasmine never once makes Jasmine a complex or layer person. She’s just this sad, angry, worthless woman who never does anything to gain our sympathy. Every malady that befalls her is, not only of her own choice, but completely deserved.

Drunken Shawn of the Dead is just as big of a dick. But there’s a soft center to him that makes him worth cheering for. He’s like the fuck up friend you had in high school. He’s gone nowhere but he could, and you’d like to see him succeed. That’s exactly how The World’s End becomes more compelling than Blue Jasmine.

Because, again, I’m not saying all characters need to be likable. I’m arguing that, if there isn’t enough complexity to the unlikable, it’s gonna be a tough slog getting the audience to enjoy your film. It’s strange too because Woody Allen has made tons of interesting unlikable characters. This time, however, he kind of phoned it in and made his lead a fucking black hole of sympathy.

The World’s End: A-

Blue Jasmine: C+

You’re Next Quickie

Dude, Kevin is gonna fuck you’re shit up. Be warned.

Nostalgia is a powerful thing. For instance, I grew up addicted to Home Alone. I watched that fucking movie so many times I wore out the VHS tape. Yes, I’m that old. And, also yes, you can go fuck yourself. Any-who, I decided to re-watch that bitch the other day. Didn’t. Hold. Up. It’s just a fucking mess of clichés and easy gags. And I found myself thinking, “Dude, they should update this for adults now. Throw in some excessive violence. Maybe a tit or two. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.” And, guess what, the Gods of Hollywood heard my prayer and sent me You’re Next.

So, yeah, no real reason to get too detailed. As the last paragraph states, You’re Next is basically the most violent and radical Home Alone ripoff but instead of a precocious little boy the lead is this bad ass chick with an accent. She’s rad and knows how to murder a shit ton of dudes.

One of the many reasons I get major wood for horror is because it is a fairly egalitarian genre. Man. Woman. It doesn’t really matter. If they don’t have the skills to survive, they’ll die. You’re Next is a prime example. One by one people get picked off simply because they don’t know what the fuck they’re actually doing in a horror situation.

But the lead chick, man, she’s something else. She sets up booby traps and shit. Violent ones with axes and nails and shit. And, boom, she let’s shit rip. It’s a nice little twist on the old horror genre and it’s fucking fun as shit to watch.

Grade: B+