Over Her Dead Body

Intension to wake early scuppered by previous nights' wine theft and fear have missed tennis date with flatmate Tom. Quick scan of rooms inconclusive as flat empty, but flatmate Tom may have already come and gone. Decide to send teasing holier-than-thou text message to ascertain state of play. Minutes later, flatmate Tom returns and remain silent about what time self rose. 


Midday tennis generates charred shoulders for self and flatmate Tom. Undeterred we remain in sun to enjoy Devon based cider. Return home and begin filling out BFI job application whilst flatmate Tom clears room in anticipation of visit from girlfriend Georgia.


To and fro from work and spend evening watching Paul Rudd romcom Over Her Dead Body, as Beatty heaven film rewarding and feel self should have vague sense of continuity in blog. Remember seeing trailer for Ruddcom some time in past but remain ignorant of UK cinematic release. Wonder how writer Jeff Lowell has managed to spin timeworn public phrase into entire narrative. Film begins and within five minutes inescapably transparent that he has not.


Paul Rudd seems to want to marry annoying Eva Longoria Parker. Unsure why he becomes so upset when Parker crushed by ice sculpture. Rudd continues mourning for entire year before more-annoying-than-Parker sister forces him to visit psychic Lake Bell. Self falls in love. Self pauses VLC player to go on Lake Bell Google image rampage and encounter disappointing results. Return to VLC player as Lake Bell by far hotter in Over Her Dead Body than anything else.


Amused to see Jason Biggs in Lake Bell's kitchen being gay. Unconvinced by Biggs' homosexuality as only real suggestion of this is choker around Biggs' neck. Self has choker. Self not gay. Find self cross with Biggs. Self's mild anger turns to barely concealed rage when Ghost Bitch Longoria Parker returns to the screen. Ghost Bitch unhappy with Rudd/Lake Bell union despite its kooky charm.


All heaven breaks loose when Biggs reveals self as not gay after all. Lake Bell feels betrayed as best friend Biggs has shared hot tubs with her. See now why self initially unhappy about Biggs as know self would pretend gayness to share hot tub with Lake Bell. Feel first sense of dislike towards Lake Bell when she says: "I just wanted to cry on my best friend." Realise now that Jeff Lowell talentless moron and feel pleased that following Rudd vehicle with ridiculous premise, Lowell wrote Hotel for Dogs.


Eventually Ghost Bitch sees light and lets Lake Bell date Rudd. Everyone happy except Biggs. Until Biggs goes to Rudd/Bell wedding and meets Rudd's obnoxious sister and inevitably falls for her. 


Wonder why Rudd made film. Presumably to kiss Lake Bell. Self can think of no other reason. Realise that self is about to go to bed completely sober. Terrified that self has only experienced sensation twice before since January. Remember scene in film where Ghost Bitch keeps Lake Bell up all night monologuing about her favourite pets. Realise that stupid Jeff Lowell besotted by animals. Hotel for Dogs less of a surprise follow-up in context of newly discovered Lowell animal addiction. 

Heaven Can Wait

Wake sporadically throughout night as self not alone nor with clothes. Previous day spent drinking in club in Shoreditch where several like-minded people had decided to watch World Cup football match. Watching match almost as bad as watching Capello sex tape. Console self with continued drinking which results in current dual occupation of self's bed. 

Self free by 3pm and decide to complete Warren Beatty American football film Heaven Can Wait. Procured Beatty afterlife sports vehicle during American Football download spree. Self also been hankering after film as apparently unavailable on DVD in UK and self big fan of what Beatty represents: polygamy-cum-monogamy, upmost self-promotion, intense privacy by way of ongoing arrogance, refusal to die.

Film very sweet although possessed of perplexing score. Film not as good as other Beatty film Reds, but then Beatty football film eleven hours shorter. Find self at first annoyed by lack of actual American football playing, but quickly adjust to romantic storyline. Am tempted to send advice to BP (who have sought out Kevin Costner's oil separating equipment so must surely be curious as to what other celebrities can offer) that Beatty in philanthropic millionaire mode would sought oil slick catastrophe, but decide against strategy as Beatty still endeavouring to play American football, despite being dead and in the body of a millionaire.

Through divine intervention (literally), Beatty fortunately equipped with body of dead quarterback in time for important match. Am pressed to attend job, but instead sit through massive climactic match sequence. Am satisfied by conclusion, but miss Beatty millionaire character, as now Beatty unable to recollect any events from any of his previous lives, instead remembering only the memories of his new body. Wonder what perverse activities Beatty would force self's body to do. Conclude the worse would be to engage physically with Beatty wife Annette Bening. Self fine with results.

To and fro from work and bump into flatmate Johnny and flatmate Johnny's girlfriend Vicky outside National Theatre. Watch climax of play London Assurance on large screen. Wonder if experience counts as filmic and whether or not experience needs to be included on blog. If so, wonder what image would be appropriate. Thoughts race and struggle to focus. Attempt to maintain aura of calm as want not to concern flatmate Johnny. Almost miss external bow by cast. Feel glee at witnessing the true Brogdingnagian size of Simon Russell Beale. Am calmed. 

Return home and decide to watch remainer of Mad Men season three whilst non-flatmate Vicky massages flatmate Johnny into a state of screaming helplessness. Turn volume on VLC to maximum. Accidentally drink bottle of flatmate Johnny's wine but decide self wise as self heads to unchanged sheets containing sin and longer hairs than self owns. 

Push / Deception

Wake at 10am and wonder why, when leaving room, flatmate Johnny's door closed. Spent previous night drinking with cast and crew of Covent-Garden-based-promenade-version of Romeo and Juliet. Had been told by flatmate Johnny that he would be staying at new girlfriend Vicky's house. Self adopts sluggish detective quality and peeps into room. Confronted by startled deer-eyed look from Vicky poking head out from behind chair. Ignore presence of other in flat and carry out routine.


Catch up on World Cup highlights and fruitlessly root around torrenting sites for Jimmy Fallon/Drew Barrymore Americanised version of Firth's Fever Pitch. Give up. Decide in moment of panic to abort VLC player and watch Chris Evans actioner Push. Initially found self reluctant to download film as despite enjoyment of less-attractive-and-funny-version-of-Ryan-Reynolds-human-torch Chris Evans find self leaning towards a forecast of ridiculous plotting. Also possess basic fear of very existence of Dakota Fanning. 

Fear worst when credit sequence deigns to include what appears to be still from Chris Marker's 1962 La jetée. Artistic presumption out-duped by Dakota appearing totally unwilling to act in film. Alongside Chris Evans, however, sub-standard performance difficult to notice. Chris Evans clearly desperate to have CGI fire effects to avoid audience actually seeing him. Vaguely remember watching Cellular, but remember experience as more bearable because eating fried food at time. Currently eating sausage roll. Not the same. 


Once food finished, no interest remains in Push and decide to replace with recently acquired banned-from-release documentary. Self very proud of ownership because film genuinely outlawed by popular music group. Decide to forgo any mention of fi.lm until completed, as film potentially most interesting creation yet watched in duration of blog, and self needs to be sober in order to assess film in tone that won't result in legal ramifications. (Not as stressed about law suit as possibly could be as know that no record company executives read blog, unless flatmate Tom harbouring massive secret and non-flatmate-recently-fellow-reblogger Paul (aka Pollux) doing more with time than self otherwise thought.)


Begin crashing around 2.30pm and decide to watch self's most recently purchased DVD, Deception, which self had never heard of notwithstanding the involvement of both Wolverine and Ewan McGregor. Film begins and clear from beginning that film not going to be in any way worthy of time (except self's time which is pathetically available for ongoing wastage). Also, have urge to complete film as paid actual human currency (£2) to own physical copy of film rather than downloaded digitally encoded metaphysical information file.


Ewan attempts New York accent that improves as film progresses. Ewan boring nervous accountant type. Influence of Wolverine made clear in initial five minutes when Wolverine visits Ewan bearing joint. Ewan wall of uptightedness breaks down triggering most uncomfortable weed-induced laughter scene in history of cinema. Weed growers everywhere owe Judd Apatow favour.


Suspicions of terrible script writing confirmed when line "Mr Rutherford is having hip surgery in New Jersey" complimented by acoustic dramatic surge. Least dramatic line in history of Wolverine films. 


Plot of film increasingly bears resemblance to work of thirteen-year-old-self's English GCSE coursework as plot upsettingly predictable and characters ashamedly two dimensional. Find self wondering if self could convince Ewan and Wolverine and widower Michelle Williams to star in self's decade-old screenplay An Ordinary Man, as title particularly relevant in light of A Serious/Single Man.


Terrible plot relies on old I-take-your-phone-instead-of-mine device and suddenly Ewan is sleeping with all Wolverine's fuck buddies. Given it being Wolverine, there are many. Sterile sex scenes ensue. Turns out, Wolverine actually master con man taking up-tight Ewan for ride in order to get him to fiddle expenses. Find self unsure about willingness to accept Wolverine Jackman as capable brilliant con artist. Decide that only in film possessing most-predictable-unfolding-of-events-since-watching-One-Night-in-Turin-DOCUMENTARY could audience be expected to believe Wolverine capable of masterminding complicated stratagem. 


Ewan falls instantly in love with Michelle Williams. Witness most unconvincing and awkward non-sex-based-lovemaking-in-the-Wiledian-sense-of-word scene in history of film and feel sorry for all members of cast, who're doing best to deliver potentially worst script of year (2008).


Without glasses, mis-read time and flee to work. Realise only upon crossing Waterloo Bridge that self is full hour premature. Instead go clothes shopping. Purchase questionable underwear and attend work. Return home. Continue abysmal DVD as have nothing else to procrastinate with.


Events unfold with conclusion of Ewan offering Wolverine five million dollars to know the location of Michelle Williams, whom he has met merely three times. Genius Wolverine unexpectedly shot by girlfriend Michelle Williams (involved in Wolverine's grand scheme all along). Ewan leaves twenty million on Wolverine corpse in order to wear leather jacket and accidentally bump into Michelle Williams to exchange virginal smiles. Credits roll, but self knows Wolverine skeleton soldered with adamantium so know 'story' not complete. 


Venture out to obtain wine and upon return met with flatmate Johnny. Johnny admits to reading blog in draft form on laptop screen and offers factual corrections. Ideas dismissed as confusion capable of canonical results. Embark upon serial text libretto with young friend Louise. Results mystifying. Don't trust anyone as Deception revealed betrayal can come from most unlikely places. Reassess and decide, harnessing self's GCSE in English, that no one should ever watch Deception as may result in people being influenced by plot possibly collocated by infant and/or animal species. Feel self overcome with disappointment with all involved. Including self.

Disgrace / King Kong / Fever Pitch

Wake earlyish on Wednesday and initiate routine. Decide to pull up John Malkovich obscurity Disgrace which have only downloaded because taken in by DVD box cover art on Blockbuster USA website. Self's own disgrace last night causes sudden wave of brain cramp to take over and am forced out to acquire pain relief.

Return and begin Malkovich film. Realise at once that film only present on Blockbuster website because film set in South Africa. Swing between being convinced by Malkovich accent and not caring either way as feel as if self's film watching is truly in World Cup spirit. 

Enjoy heightened language of college professor Malkovich although enjoy less his eagerness to have liaisons with his students without feeling guilty about on-going abuse of power. Puzzled by Malkovich's refusal to atone in front of panel of peers and am led to suspect Malkovich bored of college life and wants excuse to visit estranged daughter in South African wilderness. 

Film in many ways strange and off-kilter but remain far from offended by quiet mediocrity. Film takes sudden change of direction when daughter is gang raped, Malkovich's face set on fire, and lots of dogs shot. Feel that self's current state not fit to brave the remaining forty-five minutes and take a detour to BBC iPlayer to watch World Cup highlights.

Go to work. Come home. Sleep. Wake at 10am on Thursday and feel self would rather be outside with flatmate Tom than inside with mangled Malkovich. Enjoy Argentinian trouncing of Korea. Organise with flatmate Tom possible alfresco screening of much loved Branagh film In the Bleak Midwinter. Crushing disappointment when arrival at Somerset House with cider and smokes and two laptops (one for insurance) utterly pointless as father-made DVD recording does not work. Settle for episode of South Park but flatmate Tom's dismay is pronounced.

Return home beaten and disheartened in same fashion as Korean back four. 

Awake six days later finally recuperated from bleak Branagh Midwinter episode. Am surprised to find DVDs on bedroom floor. Infer that during recovery, self must have stolen DVDs from flatmates' bedrooms in order to keep Malkovich film on VLC player. Memories come gushing back in Deepwater Horizon style once self has embraced first cigarette of day and fondly remember watching King Kong (so drunk that part of self was convinced "photo realistic" dinosaurs were real) and seasonally appropriate modern classic Fever Pitch. Decide that negativity from reviewers regarding gorilla remake irrelevant as remember watching Peter Jackson Tolkien follow up in cinema and felt self present in genuine spectacle. Also felt, then, as self continues to feel now, Jack Black was ridiculous casting, but ultimately accept that any film involving dinosaurs inescapably brilliant. 

Still unable to bring self to watch remainder of Disgrace, especially now that self has been prescribed glasses as new eye wear will only make potential follow-up gang rapes crystal clear. Fear self will never complete Malkovich film as self easily distracted by daily World Cup highlights and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Wonder what Colin Firth would do. Decide Colin Firth would go and watch the England vs Slovenia match. Accordingly, decide to leave house immediately. 

(Begin searching Disgrace on Google to download image of film to include on blog and instead find other, much more interesting, images of enjoyment. Decide to leave house fifteen minutes later than intended.)

Exam

Wake at 10.30am in Archway when non-flatmate James jumps on self. Have spent night on couch after long evening of drinking, debauchery and other D-words as old friend Tim has returned from Paris. James-made coffee and self-made cigarette put mind in better focus but remain deliriously tired and am thrown by lack of natural light in James' dungeon. Last time self in Archway had watched The Player. This visitation no where near as productive. Discuss with James possibility of midnight screening of Werner Herzog film Bad Lieutenant. Decide to leave as know that email from Theodora waiting in inbox and phone battery requires resuscitation.

Arrive home and sink into quilt cover. Wake at 4pm feeling ashamed. Drag self to work. Go for pre-arranged sparkling wine meet with flatmate Tom's girlfriend Georgia in Somerset House. Am harassed by Georgia about mention of her in self's blog. Mind races back to few nights previously when self was harassed in text form by nineteen year old drinking partner Louise. Situation curtailed in similar fashion both times, but secretly thinking during curtailment that self pleased with number of followers.

Meet up with both flatmates and non-flatmate Northerner Martin. Martin makes ingenious pun regarding Korea and night put swiftly to bed as painfully obvious nothing better will be said by anyone. Walk home with tired and bruised flatmate Johnny. Decide that moment unripe for gay-for-pay suggestion that self learnt from Humpday.

Night still relatively young so begin watching Exam. Know that film set in single room and self obsessed with films set in rooms, cubes, or in case of upcoming Ryan Reynolds film, coffins. Have downloaded film after failure to appropriate copy of mathematics-based horror film Fermat's Room. Disappointed when everyone in film starts speaking and realise that film set in England.

Concept fairly ridiculous to begin with and only gets worse. But all set in one room so don't care and fearlessly enjoy narrative progression. Try to recall if ever single sheet of A4 plain paper has been used for such narrative effect before. Decide that foremost example must be black and white film Letter From an Unknown Woman, although paper not A4. Complete Exam around 1.30am and decide to grade it as C. Drift into coma and hope self not woken following morning with physical violence.

Humpday

Wake at 10am as have meeting with woman called Theodora regarding casting for new play. Coffee, cigarette, shower, mini muffins, Facebook, email. Decide to throw on Humpday, cheaply made American film that remember seeing not-so-bad reviews for. In general, self enjoys keeping up to date with bromantic comedies. Intrigued by premise as, if remembered correctly, centres  around going gay-for-pay. Wonder if self would do similar. Know self would.

Annoyed by film because good, free-flowing and original and all films made with shoe-strings make self feel as if wasting life by watching such films instead of making them. Spend majority of first half hour convinced that out of two lead males, one with beard is same one from The Hangover. Decide that self is wrong but know for sure that have seen him someplace else. Research into career reveals bearded one shares name with self so further interest kindled instantly. Can find no film that self has seen apart from Tim Allen embarrassment The Shaggy Dog (which self watched because of Robert Downey Jnr.'s involvement) and Fight Club which bearded one did a voice over for. Find self bewildered and have to settle on acceptance that self must be friends with bearded one on Facebook as find him too familiar to ignore.

Restlessness results in leaving unnecessarily early for meeting. Arrive in park and enjoy cider with Guardian whilst attempting to scribe short play concept. Find difficult as can think of nothing else other than gay-for-pay. Decide that these notions should be kept to self during meeting.

Meeting with Theodora productive and feel self capable of task. Return home as still a few hours before work and instead of beginning preparations for new volunteer production job watch rest of Humpday. Given that whole film has hung off premise that two straight men will potentially have sex with each other in order to film it and submit amateur footage to film festival (a festival at which audiences will no doubt be able to see self's own home-made pornographic farce, Paranormal Activity), find self disappointed that no sex actually occurs. Wonder if philosophical message of film is that men should stay in closet. Know better, instead finding self satisfied by conclusion. Skip to work pridefully queer and exchange crotch grabs with gay employees at work.

Invincible

Wake at 8am as have Oscar Wilde rehearsed read-through rehearsal at 10am. Decide to fill time between coffee/cigarette routine and acting with fan-spirit-based Marky Mark Wahlberg film that self recently downloaded during sports-related-film torrenting spree. During spree had remembered seeing trailer for Marky Mark film years previously and had at time found self hankering after little-guy-makes-good-in-Americanised-version-of-When-Saturday-Comes-film.


Am not disappointed when nostalgic 70s-based sepia toned credit sequence begins. Remember Remember the Titans, earlier Disney American football film. Pleased that film shot in similar fashion to earlier Denzel Washington film. Find self drawn to Marky Mark for first time since Boogie Nights. Tend to vocalise distaste for Marky Mark's career whenever opportunity arises, but now find self sympathising with his plight: thirty years old, tending a bar, flirting with Elizabeth Banks, going for open try-out for Greg Kinnear, making it onto team, being bullied by teammates, scoring one touch down, kissing Elizabeth Banks.


Moment of tension arises when Marky Mark makes it onto the team and goes to celebrate with bar bound friends. Fear repeat of drinking session in When Saturday Comes which briefly ruined Sean Bean's chances of playing with Sheffield United and really pissed off Pete Postlethwaite. Thankful that Invincible funded by Disney and never once see Marky take a drink.


Leave film halfway through to rehearse. Jaunt around rehearsal room with flatmate Tom and go for drinks with cast at pub, then after self's harassment, Somerset House. Find self suddenly alone as flatmates both at dinner with girl who wants me dead. Take a turn about the South Bank and resign self to watching end of Invincible. Climax is Marky Mark scoring touchdown. Stupid Disney film makes self well up. Annoyed that in real life, Marky Mark's character never scored touchdown. Feel cheated. Decide film better than McG disappointment We Are Marshall but not as good as Remember the Titans. Maybe just as good as Friday Night Lights. All of the above obviously better than The Blind Side. If Bullock can win Oscar for that film, Marky Mark should have been given Emmy for stint as rapper. 


Go to sleep early as have production meeting next day with woman called Theodora. If self can find open try-outs for England squad by then, may blow off Theodora, as know for fact that even Sandra Bullock could have prevented USA's goal against England at weekend. 

One Night in Turin

Wake at 10.30am due to persistent knocking on bedroom door by non-flatmate James. Previous night spent drinking until 4am with James in Aldgate and Southwark resulting in walk home with screaming James. Spent remainder of evening attempting to pacify uncontrollable screenwriter James with little success. Endure intensely strong coffee and numerous cigarettes in attempt to liven up and subdue residual alcohol affects as long football-based day planned. Walk to Oxford Street with non-flatmate-screenwriter-asthma-sufferer James discussing future film projects. Wave goodbye to James and secure copy of BluRay edition of heavily-advertised-in-underground-stations-film One Night in Turin using HMV voucher left over from Christmas. Ride tube-based subterranean vehicle to Walthamstow Central, outer-city village home of self's parents.

Insist on increasingly wealthy parents purchasing self various fried and refrigerated goods. Return to teenage home to bathe in football fiesta with father. Insert documentary disc into BluRay player. Have trouble navigating self through various remote controls usually operated by self's father but eventually realise that insertion of disc to BluRay player similar to insertion of disc to laptop. Line up fried food, salt, Diet Coke (novelty replacement for strong cider) and napkins in excited preparation.

Film begins and feel as if watching documentary directed by Nick Love (The Firm remake, The Football Factory). Lots of slow motion shots of white footballs hitting white nets intercut with archive footage of Italia '90 which at crucial moments always has annoying lines of empty bar chart graph at bottom and left of screen. Find self continually shocked by happenings that thought self was aware of but wasn't: how hated Bobby Robson (R.I.P) was by press, how fascinated country was by Paul Gascoigne, how riotous English fans were in reaction to horrible Tory government and so forth. Enjoy history lesson a lot despite enjoying more play-by-play unknown Clive Owen film An Evening with Gary Lineker, which in no small way defined self's childhood.

Film ends after famed Waddle penalty mishap. Watching close-up Waddle leads self to believe for sure that footballer intended to miss penalty purposefully. Forgive footballer as event one decade in past. Initiate applause which self's father doesn't join in with. Consider possibility that wound still sore with self's father and that sarcasm probably not appreciated at this stage.

Watch BluRay making-of extra feature whilst self's father drifts into sleep. Am tortured by boredom but am too turgid with chicken to move to other sofa to tackle self's father's meaty paw and attain possession of remote control. Yell at massive plasma screen often to keep self's father alert. Am penalised by self's father by being told that Italia '90 final ruined by self falling over in park and getting glass in hand at age four. Am comforted by self's father self-rebuff that Italia '90 final unbearably boring.

Fill interim between film and football match with 50 Most Shocking World Cup Moments. Realise that this is only saving grace of last film watched The Men Who Stare at Goats. Enjoy Peter Crouch acting as foolish as self imagines him in real life. Watch England opening game. Debate whether or not to start World Cup blog. Decide that additional blog would require too much knowledge of football and take up too much extra time. Pack bag with parentally sponsored drinkable goods and set off on pilgrimage to self's flat and leave teenage home. Chicken in stomach joined by bottle of wine and three beers. Flatmate Johnny awake and hassled by romantic concerns. Feel desirous towards element of competition between us due to day of sport. Decide against notion as flatmate Johnny trained in karate. Eventually put self to bed with traditional English musician Miles Davis playing jazz. Pleased at replacement for screaming that accompanied previous evening.

The Men Who Stare at Goats

Woke at 8.30am as had spent previous evening concocting grand scheme as to how to spend time before work. Bullet point 1: Coffee, cigarette, shower, shave, second coffee, complete Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 7. 2: Update Producing CV (saved for later). 3: Download controversial and potentially incriminating Rolling Stones documentary. 4: Haircut. 5: Breakfast. Bullet points in scheme all completed by 10am so decide to watch Clooney comedy that saw posters for but that has sunk without trace since. Remember during credit sequence that poster consisted of face of famous men who self generally likes.

Find self impressed by Ewan McGregor's accent. Am distinctly unimpressed by sound quality of AVI file. Initially blame VLC player but shift blame to torrent file. Whole film sounds as if it has a hip hop sub-track. Self not fond of majority of hip hop. Self also not fond of completely unrealistic storyline of The Men Who Stare at Goats. Find self accidentally typing "ghosts" instead of "goats." Wonder if this is due to recent screening of Paranormal Activity or because of Clooney caper's psych-experienment based content. 

Interest bubbles up whenever McGregor voice over gives backstory about Jeff Bridges being a hippy commander in the army and teaching Clooney and Kevin Spacey how to use their minds to see what is inside a locked box and kill ghosts. Shit. Goats. Enjoy that Kevin hates Clooney, meaning that Kevin doesn't have to act too much as he is always angry anyway and neither does Clooney as his expression is always that of a man put-upon.

Interest dwindles as plot gets increasingly ludicrous and self checking emails every thirty seconds by the time Jeff Bridges spikes water tank in army base and everyone begins tripping on LSD. Find out that have been offered unpaid job of Casting Assistant for You Me Bum Bum Train. Think credit will look good on CV but vague acting ambition takes pounding. 

Film finishes as self initiates download of several football-themed films. Pleased to be covering both English and American understanding of word in future film experiences. Decide that have taken nothing from Clooney caper beyond a smile or three. Decide to venture out to acquire copy of One Night in Turin on Blu-Ray to watch with, and subsequently sell to, self's father. Hate self for not watching BBC 4's 50 Most Shocking World Cup Moments on iPlayer instead of disappointing McGregor movie. Take slight solace in completist feelings regarding Kevin and Clooney careers. Leave house without running through a wall. Grand scheme bullet point 6: Delete The Men Who Stare at Ghosts.

Paranormal Activity

Return from work around 11pm. Exchange pleasantries with flatmate Tom but dismiss possibility of watching Kenneth Branagh film In the Bleak Midwinter in order to write how-to articles for website. Know nothing about how to decorate ceramic mugs and research into topic interrupted by arrival of saddened flatmate Johnny. Three way conversation enjoyable but brief as flatmate Tom disappears into night to find girlfriend and flatmate Johnny seeks comfort from Glenfiddich. Am left to own devices so decide to attempt screening of Paranormal Activity.


Begin film and feel self in position of authority over filmmakers as too drunk to be really frightened by anything. Suspicious happenings begin when phone vibrates unexpectedly. Further investigation reveals it is merely a text message from flatmate Tom. Visit bathroom and return to find beer can empty that was almost certainly full before. Begin freaking out. Calm self by visiting fridge.


Form of film makes it difficult to sass troubling lines such as, "Did you hear that? Something unearthly." Annoyed by filmmakers' attempt to freak me out even more.


Agree with girl who decides that paranormal demon didn't want to kill her until the camera was involved. Decide woman alluding to Paulo Cherchi Usai's book The Death of Cinema. 


By one hour and four minute point am comically enraptured by film because of photo found in man's attic. Find strange noises in own flat fascinating rather than terrifying because of self's suicidal streak. Watching film on purpose as if it was a documentary. Alcohol not acting as catalyst for paranoia like originally feared.


So gripped by film that find self switching from beer to Fanta. 


Find self uncertain as to why paranormal forces only play at night. Understand after further thought that when looking back over own life, most strange happenings most occur between the hours of 12am and 6am. Perhaps couple should be thankful they are not being mobbed by mephedrone-ridden clubber.


Decide film in fact a metaphor for closeted-lesbianism: girl obviously unhappy with man, camera never catches them having sex despite being on for several days, keeps on inviting over girlfriend, never comfortable wherever she lives. Essay on subject definitely in order. Girl needs to calm down and be comfortable with herself and then demon lesbian forces sure to leave her alone. Girl refuses and inevitable happens. Won't ruin film as flatmate Tom may read blog. Wonder if my own lesbian demon will follow me from flat to flat when self moves out at end of month. Worse still, will drunk demon follow also. Decide self would be totally fine being accompanied by the former.

Two Much / Sky-caper / Wound Footage

Wake at 9am feeling bright but have mood sledge-hammered by scarcity of job offers in inbox. Cascade back into bed and wake at 11.30pm feeling over-rested and sluggish. Wade through rubbish in hallway to flick switch on kettle in kitchen but surge of recollection results in panic that self has run out of tobacco. Hysteria sets in and realise overhaul of morning routine necessary. Shower, dress, leave house, get cash, visit shop, return. 


Check email and pleased that have been offered paid article writing position on website. Not pleased that job commission based. Know self has no drive to produce material other than blog. 


Remember that before slumping into cider coma previous night had begun watching Two Much. Have recently acquired said Antonio Banderas/Melanie Griffith romcom after advice from workmate-Ponyo-lookalike Valentina. Shocked at self ignorance of film given romantic comic nature, love for Banderas and fact that film followed by Banderas marriage to Griffith.


Nostalgia for ridiculous 90s premises in films when art wheeler dealer Banderas reveals name as Art Dodge. Banderas trying to sell painting to grieving family of millionaire. Banderas caught in act. Banderas bumps into Viggo Mortensen! Like experience of watching most other films, now wish self to be watching The Road.


Fail to understand Banderas' unwillingness to marry Griffith given later real life decision. Fearful that Banderas/Griffith long standing union total sham and that Banderas secretly wants to marry Madonna. Decide self too mature and/or sober to endure much more. 


Receive email from editor of eyeforfilm.com who self occasionally reviews for. Decision to abort Banderas/Griffith farce solidified by list of links to shorts being screened at Edinburgh Film Festival. Watch random two. Sky-caper inoffensive one-joke animation. Wound Footage a found footage based analogue/digital masterpiece. Decide for first time to include link to film on blog. Decision based on filmmaker Thorsten Fleisch's description of his process underneath video: http://vimeo.com/4741823


Send off reviews as flatmate Tom comes home to clean. Have achieved almost nothing. Have spent day writing unpaid reviews and unread blog instead of paid how-to articles for website. Ashamed to extent of considering forcing self to watch Two Much. Decide that would be too much.

Triangle / Legion / The New Daughter

Return from Oscar Wilde rehearsed reading rehearsal after drinks with cast in Somerset House (followed by Somerset House balcony as conversation was played off by rain) at 10pm to find flatmate Johnny in bed with non-flatmate Charlie watching obscure Canadian film. Have returned at early time for self as blog update of upmost importance, thus conversation swift with non-gay bed fellows.


Lament lack of new emails occupying inbox and look for consolation in shocker Triangle that if remembered correctly from reviews contains tumultuous twists. Find female lead sympathetic wrongly for sole reason of sharing namesake with ex-girlfriend-pig Jess. Find self distracted by every mention of name by other characters. Decide to force quit VLC player. Inebriation monster (otherwise known as titular Harvey, or Jack London's titular lifelong sidekick John Barleycorn) rears head and now fear numerous plot shifts will confuse and scare. However, enjoyment of modernistic one sheet leads self to believe Triangle will be revisited when more confident about romantic life. Opt instead for Paul Bettany playing angel in Legion. 


Know in advance Legion likely to be ridiculous as poster expects audience to believe Bettany capable of six-pack. Excitement as opening voiceover can be inferred as suggesting end of world. Drunk blogger remembers intensity of The Road. Excitement dies as thought process then triggers memory of The Book of Eli. Realise that pre-blog experience of apocalyptic visions of Earth mixed at best. Optimistic when pale Bettany appears bathing in moonlight although worry about self-flagulation-based-stereotyping of Bettany when Bettany cuts off angel wings. Fail to understand why Bettany collecting guns. Fear film more difficult to understand than Triangle. Decide second can of White Ace more more more than enough and give up. 

Wake at 9am when flatmate Johnny slams door to leave for work feeling unduly productive. Decide Bettany-angel-revenge-thriller unseemly for morning coffee and cigarette. Decide instead upon most recent Kevin Costner film, The New Daughter. (Actively seek out Kevin's recent output in kino-sphere because of self's mother's fandom for earlier Kevin output, in same way self suffers Orson Welles curiosity due to self's father's interest.)


Notice immediately that film centred around Kevin in domestic environment. Think back to Mr Brooks and suspicious that recent Kevin film content all based around domestic drama with additional edge. Understand deviation in sports-based film career as Kevin older and heavier. Attempt to remember sports-based career as interminable credit sequence unfolds: Tin Cup - Golf, American Flyers - Cycling (!), Bull Durham/Field of Dreams/For Love of the Game - Baseball, Sizzle Beach - Sex. Reflect; debate to self whether gun-toting in Westerns counts as blood sport. Decide Westerns count as genre. 


Enjoy well-shot nature of domesticity without forced drama until night time shot subtly reveals inhuman monster scuttling across Kevin's new house's roof whilst daughter looks out of window. Do not remember seeing Andy Serkis named in credits.


Difficult to dislike film for opening hour as slow burning, nice to look at and impossible to work out what's going on with Kevin's daughter who is undergoing "changes." Things take turn towards tawdry when Kevin brandishes shotgun and starts eliminating forest fairies-cum-ancient-American-Indian-Gods. Plot ultimately metaphor for daughter starting period. Results in fairy-ant-species trying to use her as Queen ant by eating her from inside out to repopulate species. Would have preferred film without inclusion of Gollum's extended family as Kevin capable of holding down domestic drama as milky eyes are so easy to sympathise with. Impressed by non-happy-ending but find self dumbfounded by misleading tag-line: "How far will a father go to protect the ones he loves?" Find self able to answer question: "Not anywhere near far enough" as by end of film daughter dead and son about to be eaten. Also dumbfounded by Hollywood financing and worry that Kevin secretly self-funded surreal film to remind people he still exists. 


Complete film sober and now with confidence regarding own domestic upheaval as flat lease runs out at end of month. Thoughts of moving into two bedroom house now hassled by fear of Gollum lurking on roof. Decide to look solely for flats on bottom floor of larger complexes. 

Brothers

Barely make it through double work shift but still drink bottle of rose in Somerset House with workmates. Return home merry to see flatmate Johnny watching West Wing with long-term friend Charlie. Retire to room and pick Jim Sheridan film Brothers from recent downloads as dark emotional war trauma film more appropriate to state of life than mulchy Wolverine film. 


Notice in pre-film research similarity between promotional one sheet poster for Brothers and play self co-directed last year starring flatmate Tom. Suddenly suspect possible Sheridan rip-off of low-level play productions. Decide against notion but instantly reassess and find self drawn back to original conclusion. Wonder why Sheridan forwent sending cheque for royalties. Wish self could find other play poster that inverts displayed play poster to left to truly get point across. Suffer Facebook search fail but confident that point stands.

Find self bemused by opening section as am expected to believe Jake Gyllenhaal is ex-inmate and Tobey Maguire an army captain in Afghanistan. Unsurprised as Jim Sheridan capable of casting Fifty Cent in lead role. Hate Fifty Cent in every way imaginable. Used to like Eminem but now hate Eminem as responsible for Fifty Cent's career. Potentially willing to hate Jim Sheridan as well for making Get Rich or Die Tryin' as disapprove of use of apostrophes replacing letters in film titles. Realise self in no position to judge as still drinkin' White Ace.

Realise that Sam Shepard not writing plays about western American culture at current time as too busy being disappointed with son Donnie Darko. However, playwright certainly proud of country-serving Spiderman. Realise that film of high quality and should watch when unencumbered by severe drink problem. Remember interview with playwright wherein playwright divulged recent rehabilitation and realise that self should take leaf from playwright's book of life. Pass out.

Wake at 8am as have rehearsal at 10am for Oscar Wilde rehearsed readthrough. Practise posh accent in shower before coffee and cigarette and Brothers. Terrified by Spiderman's anger upon returning from captivity in war-torn desert as he thinks Donnie Darko has been sleeping with wife Natalie Portman. Want to let Spiderman know that all they did was kiss and that was due to them thinking Spiderman was dead. Don't realise what all fuss over as obvious from filmic history that Portman has been kissing Clive Owen and Spiderman has been kissing Mary Jane, whilst Donnie has been busy beating people up in Persia. 

Find self relating to Spiderman rage after receiving text from readthrough director pushing rehearsal back to 12pm making early rise redundant. Probably wouldn't destroy kitchen like Spiderman does, nor hold gun and point at younger brother Donnie. Realise that sardonic nature of film blog inappropriate because Spiderman suffering genuine post-war trauma, leading to stand-off between Spiderman, Donnie, Portman and cops. Find self genuinely riveted and gripped by unpredictability of Spiderman rage. 

Find self taken back unwillingly to end of Wolfman when Spiderman delivers closing voiceover philosophy regarding post-war stress. Sheridan film hilariously better in contrast. Drunk blog writer in no position to critique film as script content analyses complex issues blog creator unfamiliar with. Blog creator pleased at sobriety for screening as Sheridan film deserving of attention. End up grateful to readthrough director as have had chance to finish film rather than walk to rehearsal at old university. Realise that now have to leave in order to make it on time. Decide to leave Spiderman rage at home and practise posh accent. Hope not to bump into Fifty Cent.