On World Mental Health Day our very own photographer Manpreet Singh wrote a personal piece on our website where he articulates what it is like living with depression. When I read it, I paused a few times and wondered why in this world today do we not understand that mental health is one of our biggest killers. Why do we not teach our children the impact and importance of mental health, and why do we not support those that are directly impacted by it, whether it be the sufferer, friend, family or colleague? If there was ever a fitting documentary that highlights the importance of ensuring there is enough support in place for those affected, then the Netflix Original Kingdom of Us is that supporting piece.
This review is part of our 31 Days of Horror series. You can check out the other posts by clicking these words.
What is surprising, poignant, provocative, and frightening about The Babadook is its honesty. Here is a film – a debut feature, no less, written and directed by Australian filmmaker Jennifer Kent – that repurposes the innate ridiculousness of the horror genre as a tool of philosophical self-examination. In it, the characters imagine their fears, their hates, and their inner psychoses as a folkloric bogeyman; as a convenient, literal manifestation of their most shameful anxieties. Here, as in most horror films, things go bump in the night, but what lurks in its small, lightless spaces is terrifying because it is bold and true. Whether its titular ghoul is real or imagined ceases to be the point long before the end of The Babadook, but the fear that it represents remains; it is our collective fear, of our own malice and frustration and distress and agony, even – perhaps especially – when we direct it towards those we’re supposed to love. The film asks us to come to terms with the ugly sides of ourselves.
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.
Set almost a decade after the original series ended, this mini-series follows the Gilmore Girls through four seasons of change.
I’m hoping that you will have read my review of the original Gilmore Girls series so that I don’t have to explain the concept again here. All I really want to do with this is tell you how much I enjoyed this revival, and how I felt it measured up compared to the original series.
A drama centering on the relationship between a thirty-something single mother and her teenage daughter living in Stars Hollow, Connecticut.
Back in October, I started watching Gilmore Girls. Quite what made me want to see it I’m not sure – it really isn’t the sort of show that I would class as my sort of thing. Clearly the hype surrounding the show’s revival got the better of me, however, as I decided to give it a go. I am so glad I delved into this series because I enjoyed it so, so much! There were so many brilliantly written characters and wonderfully crafted dialogue throughout the whole show, and after taking up so much of my time over the last six months, I’m kind of sad that it’s finished.
Surprising absolutely nobody, The Emoji Movie is an insulting travesty without a shred of wit, intelligence or worth; a shameless, unfunny slab of advertising that exists entirely to slobber all over the shiny corporate cock whose limp spurts of digitised ejaculate droop from the movie’s saccharine façade like the tears of all those parents who were dumb enough to buy tickets for their children to see it.
Having said that, it did surprise someone: Dan Hart, my very own colleague here, who insisted live on air that The Emoji Movie would secure a Tomatometer score of over 50%, and even bet ten pounds of Her Majesty’s finest sterling on the matter. I can’t get back the 90 minutes I spent watching this appalling aberration, but at least I’m up ten quid.