I’ve been chugging my way through 2004’s PPVs this past week. It’s not been easy. Lotta rape, lost babies, dropkicked babies, mentally handicapped characters, that sorta thing. Yeah, it was one’ve those years.
I found this on my laptop (as with a lot of this month’s material so far), so it’s a little less in-depth than the usual Ten Things, but twice as number-having. Peppered throughout shall be five general images from Star Wars 1, which I’ve referred to as such because I always end up having to qualify it when I just say “Star Wars” on account of refusing to call it A New Hope because I am class and the best human.
For a few years in the late 90s and early 00s, WWE (then, the WWF) produced two PPV events a year that broadcast to British audiences from British venues and never made their way across the pond ’til the eventual ubiquity of the Internet made it easy to get anything at any time.
So if you like, you can now get your hands on a copy of Marvel Super Heroes as easily as if you were standing outside M.E. Computers at Christmas in 1997. Heck, easier still, seeing as you no longer have to leave the house, hop in a car you’re too young to drive, find a parking space, make your way up those slippy steps and navigate the arena of sweaty young men trying their luck against Metal Slug, Sunset Riders or that top-down racing game no-one can remember the name of ONLY to find out the last copy’s been sold, much to Phil’s dismay but never worry, it’ll be back in stock in January.
A piece I wrote about about Batman 1989 gets pretty frequent hits here on Rambleast. A good few of you Internet stalkers hit upon it daily, so it seemed logical to write something about its follow-up, 1992’s Batman Returns. Thing is, though, that if I ever wanted to do this naturally, I would have. Batman Returns is not my kind of film, at all, in pretty much any way, so I never got round to Ten Things-ing it because it would have meant watchign the damn thing again. You know what Batman Returns is, to make use of a word that rarely used properly? It’s a fiasco. A bumbling fuck, a wretched exercise, indulgent shitten filmmaking. A balloon filled to near-bursting with jewels, truffles, brandy and sick. A bad thing.
“The name is James. Mister James Bond” – 23 Films.
So goes the line that, without exception, has opened every single James Bond ever made and even those that haven’t been made yet (such as GoldGoldGold, The Slengthening Of The Matriarch and 007 In New York). In this latest of years, it’s come to mark a fiftieth anniversary for the besuited gent, but more importantly it can at last claim to open the best Bond, James film in nearly a pair of decades.
OK, that’s enough of that. I needed to get that shit out my system and I concocted that headline quote fucking months ago, waiting for an excuse to use it in an appropriate and relevant situation. Serious-head on? Skyfall is badd ass. Yeah: badd with TWO ds. I have points and points to make and I’ve already wasted at least one paragraph so let’s just get it started up in here. Ten reasons why Skyfall pulls double duty kickin’ booty, full of spoilers and after the jump which, if you like, you may consider the blog-jump equivalent of the dam sequence at the start of Goldeneye.
Continue reading “Ten Things I Love About Skyfall”
1. Top Cat’s in it. Arnold Stang (not to be confused with Arnold Strong – who is Arnie), in probably the only non-TC thing I’ll ever see him in, and not once does he do Top Cat. Not once does he drop an octave to make some wiseguy remark. IS IT TO MUCH TO EXPECT THAT YOU DO A LITTLE TOP CAT, TOP CAT?!!
2. They’re all Greek, right – Herc even says he’s FROM GREECE – but with the exception of Zeus, all the Gods use their Roman names. That is EXTREMELY confusing.
3. Arnie says “I do naht have enny mahney” twice in a very observably strange manner within about ten minutes, and then that never appears again, even though it was straight on the course to catchphrasehood. It’s so apparent that it’s going to be a running joke, when all it turns out to be is a really weird case of the same line being delivered in the same way within a really short space of time, twice.
4. At the end of the movie, Samson turns up. There is no God named Samson. Samson lives in the fucking Bible.
5. The filming looks like it was done in secret, as though a stalker stole some footage while Pumping Iron was being made and crafted it into a movie.
6. Arnie’s acting in it is terrible beyond further adjectives, but why this is worth noting is that they built an entire film around someone who couldn’t act just for a few occasions where (like in Commando) he overturns a car or lifts weights, or even just takes off his shirt in the street. A more innocent time allowed for such a thing to happen, I guess, but Hercules In New York is straight up the flimsiest excuse to make a motion picture I can think of.
7. The choreography is Batman-grade making it up as we go along, and for all Arnie’s awesome physical presence, he never learned how to throw a punch. He fights like a zombie would fight. In a film about zombie warriors, they’d be directed to throw punches like Arnie does in this movie.
8. THE BEAR. There’s a scene where a bear escapes the Central Park Zoo (is that a thing?), but it’s a man in a bear suit and a) he walks like a monkey and b) fights like A MAN. He was clearly given no other direction other than “fight with Arnold”. Flinging jabs left and right. It’s bladderthreateningly amusing and also right here…
9. You can hear traffic in the Hades scenes.
10. You can hear traffic in the Olympus scenes. I can just about accept that somewhere in Hades dead New Yorkers are being punished with endless streams of yellow cab traffic, but Olympus? Cars on Olympus? Fuckers can fly. No cars. No cars on Olympus.