Director(s): Charlie Bean, Paul Fisher, Bob Logan
Writer(s): A Lot of People
Release Date: 22 September, 2017
What, they’re still making these?
Oh, shit, this the seventh of these things – the latest instalment in the 29-year-old Child’s Play franchise, once again written and directed by Don Mancini, who by now has steered this bizarre string of films through so many genres and pop-culture trends that I honestly couldn’t say, before watching this one, what I was in for. Now, after having watched it, I still can’t say for certain exactly what it was. These films have been, at various points, generic slashers, satirical comedies, and psychological thrillers. Cult of Chucky is all of those things, and also some others. It’s a weird and violent little film which, depending on how it performs, is either going to be a swansong or a fresh start for horror’s most tenacious, indestructible franchise.
Thanks to a series of incredibly bizarre events, earlier this evening I found myself in a screening of My Little Pony: The Movie, along with my partner and our daughter, a friend of ours and her son, and what seemed like every pre-teen child in the northern hemisphere. There are surely worse environments to watch a movie in, but none that spring to mind. Then again, though, who’s the idiot here? This film isn’t aimed at me. It’s for the kids; a sugary, shrieking slice of animated adventuring that’s intended to be a revelatory first movie-going experience for the nippers. I’m pleased to report that my daughter, elbow-deep in a seemingly bottomless pick-n’-mix bag, thought it was wonderful.
Unfortunately, she’s not writing the review. And I’m still a little pissed off that I had to pay for all those sweets, so if you’re one of those insufferable maniacs who have made it their mission over the last few days to personally attack any critic who didn’t enjoy 100 minutes of glittery equine frolicking as much as you wanted them to, maybe cut me some slack here. I’m trying. I went in there with an open mind, and I left with one, too. It was just suddenly full of complete bullshit.
Sad to be writing this. The world of comedy got a little darker today with the news of comedian Ralphie May’s passing. He suffered a heart attack after a battle with pneumonia. He was still performing despite being ill, and even performed last night in Vegas at Harrah’s.
Ralphie May leaves behind two children who he had with ex-wife comedian Lahna Turner.
Already the comic world and fans are pouring comments into social media recalling stories and celebrating him for his kindness and generosity. As a fan of his comedy, I can say he will be greatly remembered and greatly missed. He was 45.
The Grand Budapest Hotel follows the tale of eccentric hotel concierge M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) and a lobby boy he befriends whilst caught up in an investigation into the mysterious death of a loyal customer of the hotel he is employed by.
Now, I am very aware that I may be upsetting many people when I say that The Grand Budapest Hotel is possibly one of the worst films I have watched of late, especially after the critical acclaim it received. The only reason I watched it was due to the reviews I had read, saying that it did not require too much thought and was a tremendous bit of fun – as opposed to… removing your eyeballs with an ice cream scooper? Marginally, maybe. I had no idea what to expect when it came to sitting down and watching it, however, I did expect a hell of a lot more than what was actually delivered, so much so, that after 48 minutes of watching Ralph Fiennes parade around in a tailcoat with a lobby boy following like a lost sheep, I had lost the will to live, and I turned it off and went to bed, completely and utterly disappointed with what I had seen.
Single father and PI Holland March (Ryan Gosling) is hired to investigate the apparent suicide of porn star Misty Mountains. His leads require him to track down a girl called Amelia, however, she doesn’t want to be found. As Holland’s search intensifies, he discovers Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe) – a less official PI, but one who certainly isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty – and his brass knuckles, both of which were hired by this Amelia character to keep Holland away, for fear he may force her to return to her mother. Things worsen when Amelia disappears and Jackson realises that it was not only Holland who was looking for her in the first place. Naturally, the two men are forced to team up and take on the eccentric world of your typical 70s porn star to uncover a suspected government conspiracy.
To mark the glorious end of exams, the best bitch and I planned another trip to the cinema, this time to see The Nice Guys. The film had first taken my fancy around Easter when the trailer came to my attention, and its worldwide release over the past few weeks has been met with phenomenal praise, so between us, we thought, why not?