It’s hard to argue that Finding Dory isn’t the highlight of the summer movie season so far. It seems to cover all bases for all audiences, and by working around its predecessor Finding Nemo as well as adding to Dory’s character, it feels necessary — which is not often the case for sequels.
However, while the film may add some lovable new characters (as well as the tricky to love Hank the Octopus), there is a distinct lack of a certain someone…
The movies manufacture ideals for romance, high school parties, and surviving zombie apocalypses that seemingly cannot be obtained in real life. It’s easy to be brought down by this fact but it doesn’t have to be this way — as a person who lives in a semi-fantasy world, I have constructed a list of tricks you can pull to make your life a little more like the silver screen.
If Elijah Wood hits any wrong notes on his piano then John Cusack will shoot him in the face.
This film exists.
Oh, and it’s written by Damien Chazelle (the man behind Whiplash, one of 2014’s most successful flicks).
This movie should be the only movie anyone ever talks about. It is sacred based on its premise alone. But beyond the premise, I found it to be a good watch, therefore am surprised its fallen under the radar even after the success of Whiplash.
Uh oh, Suicide Squad is apparently not very good according to the all knowing Rotten Tomatoes percentage rating. A lot of people are deciding to give it a miss but I thought ‘meh, sounds alright, I’ll check it out’.
It was after this thought crossed my mind that I got the call. It was the Emperor of DC Comics. I didn’t know whether to ask him how he got my number or why DC Comics needs an Emperor.
I asked him to wait on hold while I finished my breakfast.
“What’s a Bottle Episode?”. Top notch question. It refers to an episode of any given television series that is limited in budget and so doesn’t feature masses of locations, special effects, cast-members, and so on so forth.
The origins of its name come from way back in the 1960s…
When I’m old, grey, and even more bitter, I’ll gather my grandchildren around (pulling them away from The Walking Dead, which is still somehow scraping plot-points from the bottom of its shallow barrel) and make them watch ‘Balls Out’.
Yes, it’s a thing. And it’s not the raunchy sort of movie that may come to mind. Although, granted, it’s totally not suitable for grandchildren — that’ a bad move on future me’s part but you’ve got to understand that 2065 is a different time.
My new TV show ‘Robot Sidekick Wars’ has been picked up by a major broadcaster and is slated for a September 2024 release. Okay, so the release was held back a little when it was confirmed that the conventional ‘Robot Wars’ (the classic BBC show that is now suing me for plagiarism of the name, concept, and for kidnapping Sir Killalot), will return later this year. This revelation caused the network executives to realise they had just given a crazy person his own stupid show and a literal bucket of cash, meaning that they hastily delayed the airing date until after my trial in court (seriously, I am deep in the shit about this Sir Killalot business — they’re even going to call every other robot from the show onto the witness stand which, although hilarious, also means I’m screwed).
So… until 2024 comes around, here’s a sneaky peeky at what it’s all about.
For this episode titled ‘Nailed’, I’m primarily interested in the closing scene. Although, it is worth noting that it’s the result of 19 episodes’ worth of building up two complex characters — Jimmy, the lovable protagonist, and Chuck, his bitter-sweet older brother. Everything thus far has led up to this moment — like James Franco and the rock in ‘127 Hours’ — Jimmy meets a huge ultimatum at the otherwise humble location of an all-night print shop.
There was a cloud of anticipation hovering over my abysmally poorly attended press conference. Various theories about my short disappearance (that I bribed low-level journalists to spread) suggested that I had died and resurrected in the spirit of Easter. After the story hit the morning papers (I glued a photocopy to the front of every newspaper on every newsstand in the city), the previously empty press room became filled with protestors, shouting down the sacrilegious allegations with good reason (I even held up a little protest sign of my own). But in spite of the commotion, my publicity stunt had succeeded. I had an audience.
Cool, calm, and collected; I brought silence to the room (by finding a new ringtone with my phone at full volume), and gave the real reason for my absence.