Cop Out

Wake, embarrassed, at 12pm. Uncertainty as to why self up and around flat so late on in day solved when arrival at desk reveals duo of wine bottles next to pile of foreign DVDs. Memories of two for £5.50 offer at local off license bubble in memory. Some sort of punishment necessary. Self recently downloaded Kevin Smith directed (but not scribed) Bruce Willis/Tracy Morgan buddy cop film Cop Out. Self did so in spite of abominable reviews because self has seen every other Kevin Smith film and self possesses completist streak. Zack and Miri Make a Porno digested smoothly without close attention (self needs to complete The Rebound review), so new film presumably similar.

Begin writing third paragraph of review and begin film. Film terrible. Film terrible to extent of being distraction. Film so terrible that self considering for first time since Clerks 2 aborting screening prematurely. But self needs punishment. Screening of Cop Out develops into ritualistic self harm ceremony. Fortunately, flat empty. About to strip naked and light candles and open bottle of flatmate Johnny rum and place lit candle purposefully close to flammable curtain until Kevin Pollak appears. Self loves Kevin Pollak. Kevin Pollak impressive in The Usual Suspects and bewitching as Tom Cruise sidekick in A Few Good Men. Kevin Pollak impression of Christopher Walken reason enough to live. Decide to carry on existence and continue writing The Rebound review.

Realisation that Kevin Pollak whoring himself out troubling. Film continues to be terrible. Film could well be worst of Bruce Willis career. Bruce Willis usually good at being detective. Bruce Willis detective/army member in Die Hard quadrilogy, The Last Boy Scout, Striking Distance, Mercury Rising, The Siege, Hart's War, Tears of the Sun, Hostage, Sin City, 16 Blocks and Planet Terror. Self feels that skills learnt from playing roles would enable Bruce Willis to sniff out abomination of script when abomination of script suggested to Bruce Willis by agent. Then self remembers Surrogates. But even Surrogates better than Cop Out. No explanation possible. Self decides to light more candles and place all candles next to flammable curtain. Until Jason Lee appears. Jason Lee usually reliable. Jason Lee previously in charming indie Mumford. Ted Danson also in Mumford. Coincidental, as in town of Mumford, everybody knows your name. Wish self was watching Mumford. Surely Jason Lee incapable of turning in sub-par performance just to please old pal Kevin Smith given that Kevin Smith didn't write film. Bruce Willis and Jason Lee engage in act-off. Both lose. Self wrong about Jason Lee. Jason Lee treacherous whore. Self reaches for lighter fluid that self borrowed from flatmate Tom. Plans to take life and flat down in Toy Story 3-esc inferno delayed as self must finish The Rebound review.

Plot seems to have been taken to police firing range given number of holes in it. Despite seeing all Bruce Willis detective films, self can't utilise skills to suss out evidence of Kevin Smith directing Cop Out. Apart from penis humour. Decide to take break by checking Facebook. Flatmate Tom has written on self Facebook wall complaining that Toy Story 2/Ratatouille/Toy Story 3 post gave away ending of Toy Story 3. Flatmate Tom fortunate as flatmate Tom likes Bruce Willis (hence liable to watch Cop Out at some point) and self can't even offer plot synopsis let alone spoiler for Cop Out as Cop Out cinematic equivalent of listening to song on mute.

Manage to avoid suicide by flaming curtain as film ends at same time as review for The Rebound. Feel like self would have died hard. Decide to continue life (however pointless that may be given debasement of Willis, Lee and Smith), extinguish candles, and ride two-wheeled bicycle to work. Feel as if Cop Out would have been more appreciated if self had procured two for £5.50 deal beforehand. Feel as if all involved responsible for their own type of cop outs.

Remember Me

Wake at 9am and decide no cause for such early action and affects of Sleep Aid not fully discharged. Wake at 11.30am and settle down at desk to write sensible non-blog review of The Rebound for website. Self has file in recent downloads that self ashamed of: Robert Pattinson indie Remember Me. Self was requested to locate film by non-flatmate workmate Valentina, who although saying RPatz looked fat in recent Twilight Saga offering Eclipse, still harbours crush on boy vampire. Received texts from workmate Valentina claiming RPatz film caused unstoppable floods of eye water. Self immediately interested, but still tentative about watching film as self suspicious that certain young English males who like acting genuinely allergic to RPatz and RPatz success. Eventually succumb, load film onto VLC player, as self led to believe by gossip whoremonger Perez Hilton that RPatz career veering towards similar type of film, whilst fellow Twilight alumnus Taylor Lautner heading for action mainstream, and so self should - for sake of interest in medium of cinema - keep track of RPatz career development. Self also feels as if self can ignore film quite easily whilst writing review as film marketed as romance.

Self, again, misled by marketing. Film very distracting. Chris Cooper very upset by death of wife. RPatz very upset about death of older brother and deficient relationship with big shot lawyer dad Pierce Brosnan. Too much bad for self in early afternoon. Self prefers bad when self wearing tight jeans and leather jacket. Self puts film on pause so self can focus. Things much better.

Beginning The Rebound review painstaking - as self has not properly reviewed film for years - but not without slight merit. Self finishes introduction and synopsis and attempts to begin third paragraph. Self needs screening notes. Notes not in bag. Notes not in other bag. Notes not under bed. Notes not in pile of other notes. Notes not in fridge. Self accepts with great annoyance that notes must be where all other things that aren't in room located: locker at workplace. Self is forced to abort review and carry out mundane life chores. Self may as well watch RPatz film at same time.

RPatz almost same age as self. RPatz complains that by RPatz age Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had composed thirty symphonies, Gandhi had fathered three children, and Buddy Holly was dead. RPatz neglects to mention his own success at that age.

Although RPatz smoking and very angry for no explicable reason, RPatz not James Dean. RPatz doesn't notice hilarious relevance of annoying friend's complaint: "I'm really sick and tired of this of this brewing introvert shit." RPatz aiming to make whole career out of this acting approach. RPatz acting approach limited. RPatz good at brooding as brooding involves staring at floor and having unpredictable hair. RPatz works magic on Chris Cooper daughter. Magic involves looking smug. Chris Cooper daughter unwilling to date RPatz, even though RPatz not vampire and working magic. RPatz likes daughter, but problematic as daughter daddy likes arresting RPatz because RPatz also likes fighting because RPatz likes doing James Dean impression. Whilst looking at floor.

Even self, who has burnt incense whilst listening to albums by Bright Eyes whilst waiting for text from girl that self phone never receives whilst drinking self to oblivion, thinks RPatz needs to perk up. Film centred around RPatz rage range so film naturally limited. Self never comes close to workmate Valentina reaction, but self can see why emotional response possible. (Workmate Valentina girl.)

RPatz eventually manages to gain almost-likability in closing montage when revelation that RPatz about to die because RPatz in wrong place (Twin Towers) at wrong time (11th September 2001). Climax raises self's eyebrow. Film title never fully explained, but then, lots in film without explanation, most of all RPatz rage. Self annoyed that memory of Remember Me will linger because of inclusion of American disaster. Self decides to set off for work and display impression of RPatz rage to workmate Valentina as punishment for recommendation. Self changes mind instantly as workmate Valentina can beat self in fight. Decide to collect notes in locker and sit in corner, looking smug whilst looking at floor.

Toy Story 2, Ratatouille, Toy Story 3

Wake at 9am and begin revision of Toy Story 2 as self has date with non-flatmate current-workmate Valentina at 3pm to watch Toy Story 3 at Empire cinema in Leicester Square. Self has seen original toy tale several times but sequel toy film only once. Self forgot how annoying Joan-Cusack-voiced cowgirl Jesse is. Self pleased self didn't have to watch Banditen! with her. 


Film filled with talking toys. Problematic to self. Has self been abusing childhood fur-stuffed-critters by turning blind eye when all critters want to do is play at make believe, whilst pretending to be inanimate whenever self arrives home? Self assesses toys in room: tiny stuffed cow in bag, yellow bear on window sill, charred cow of similar size next to yellow bear. Realise that cow has serious cowslaughter lawsuit case potential against self as self made film in youth about numerous ways cow could be tortured: crucified, frozen, oven-baked, covered in pegs, squished by weights, punched, kicked, elbow dropped, forced to listen to Britney Spears, forced to watch Multiplicity with Michael Keaton. Worriment of triple threat toy blitz on self in middle of night calmed by glaring love for toys since self took toys with self when self moved from family home to flat.


Annoyance felt towards cowgirl Jesse lessened when Sarah McLachlan classic When She Loved Me comes on. Self refers to gift from flatmate Johnny: Disney/Pixar Greatest Hits Album (released 19th July). Song important enough to achieve placing at track three, twenty-three tracks closer to beginning of album than Para El Buzz Espanol cover of Randy Newman classic You've Got a Friend in Me.


Film concludes and although overtly better than 90% of Hollywood output, not quite up to par for self on Disney/Pixar scale. Self decides to compile Disney/Pixar list for future reference. 


Disney/Pixar List for Future Reference
(films ranked in terms of quality according to self [qualifications available on request])
1. Ratatouille
2. WALL-E
3. Toy Story
4. Monsters Inc.
5. Up
6. Finding Nemo (which at time of release was widely considered best Pixar film)
7. The Incredibles (which at time of release was widely considered best Pixar film)

8. Toy Story 2

9. A Bug's Life

10. Cars

Self disappointed to learn that next Pixar film on horizon Cars 2. (Self feelings on film available for perusal above.)

Research prior to threequel screening completed, self composes salad and cleans kitchen. Smug feelings because of ownership of Foundation Certificate in Basic Food Hygiene (qualification proof available on request) lead to self watching Ratatouille (feelings regarding film available for perusal above) whilst labouring in kitchen. Ratatouille one of best examples of artistic representation of class and race divides, whilst at same time, rather unfortunately, fine example of American-based stereotype of French people.

Film, like elaborate version of Lobster Bisque (see bottom of post for further explanation), exquisite (if not for flatmate Johnny, possessive as he is of certain allergies). Self almost moved to tears when food critic Ego takes food of rat and whisked back into childhood. Scene perfect on screen rendering of deep-routed metaphysical feeling of nostalgia. Scene also inclusive of voice-over critical review of rat restaurant. Scripting of voice-over beautiful dissection of license of critics and almost seemingly geared towards making reviewers of film tear up. Self needs no authorisation to cry freely, but self pacified by mostly happy conclusion. 

Self takes two-wheeled bicycle to Leicester Square to meet workmate Valentina for screening of Toy Story 3. Self usually unwilling to pay extortionate West End sum for ticket for films self can acquire four months later by other means, but self was directed to Peter Bradshaw review by flatmate Tom last Friday. Bradshaw review of new toy film around 50% description of critic personal life, thereby brilliant. Self and Valentina take full advantage of Valentina phone contract with Orange and take seats in plush auditorium. Self handed pair of 3D glasses. Self unaware film in 3D. Self wildly discontented with state of current Hollywood pretend-you're-on-a-rollercoaster cinema. Self resigns self to unstoppable force of entertainment-aimed-at-attention-deficit-children.

Usual Pixar short begins before main feature. Self decides use of 3D in Pixar film now acceptable as there was no additional entertainment in form of short film provided before fucking Avatar.

Film, like large pink strawberry scented bear featured in film and unlike now-less-annoying-but-still-on-screen-cowgirl Jesse, extremely loveable. Film introduces concept of metrosexuality (which self has embraced like a feminist to hair growth [apologies to self mother - support of remark available upon request]) in form of Ken doll character. Similarities to Ken doll disturbing to self. More disturbing to self is revelation during end credits that Ken doll voiced by Michael Keaton. Decide that voice work does not constitute equation of self with animated character and so self remains in no way related at all to Multiplicity. 

Film reaches apex when toys engineer escape from day-care facility. Scene reminiscent of brilliant giant-gingerbread-man climax of Shrek 2. Self, along with workmate Valentina, tears up behind 3D spectacles when seventeen year old Andy gives childhood toys away to young girl. Self also felt pangs of emotion when toys all face death-by-massive-inferno together. After elongated-but-no-less-gripping scramble to escape, toys stop moving, give each other longing looks of acceptance, and join hands, prospect of death eased by amity. Moment undeniably powerful and, after three films, resonant in way that most human films fail to achieve in even remotest way.

Self leaves screening with workmate Valentina feeling humbled by gravitas of Disney/Pixar comfortable dwarfing of most other film studio offerings. Realise that Disney one of most valuable assets of cinema. Self feels no desire to punctuate end of blog post with surreal-attempted-comedic phrase. 

Recipe for elaborate Lobster Bisque

Ingredients

• 1 live lobster
• 1 pint of cream
• 3 sticks of celery
• 1/3 of a cup of chopped onions
• ¾ of a cup of plain flour
• ¼ lb of butter
• ¾ of a cup of tomato purée
• 1 tbsp of lemon juice
• 2 chicken stock cubes
• 1 tbsp of steak sauce
• 1 tbsp of sugar
• 2 tsp of salt
• 1 tsp of Worcestershire sauce
• 1 tsp of white pepper
• 8 black peppercorns

Method

1. Pour 5 litres of cold water into a large pot, add the stock cubes, chopped onion, celery, salt and peppercorns and bring to the boil.
2. Once the water has reached a fierce boil, carefully add the live lobster, placing it headfirst into the boiling water.
3. Cover the pot with the lid, return to the boil and then start timing. Cook the lobster for 12 minutes on a reduced heat.
4. Once the lobster shell has turned bright red after the 12 minutes, remove the lobster from the stock and place it in a dish to cool and so that the juices are caught and can be added to the liquid.
5. Continue to simmer the broth, leaving the pot uncovered.
6. Once the lobster has cooled, remove the meat from the shell, chop it up into small pieces and keep it to one side.
7. Place the shell and lobster parts (not the meat) back into the pot and continue to cook until it has reduced by half.
8. In a separate large saucepan, melt the butter gently.
9. Add the flour and mix into the butter, stirring continuously in order to form a paste. Cook the mixture for 1 minute to get rid of the taste of the flour, stirring constantly.
10. Then, add the tomato purée and mix together. Cook for another minute.
11. Next, gradually add the lobster stock through a sieve, so that only the liquid goes through, always stirring continuously.
12. Once a smooth sauce has been formed, reduce the heat.
13. Add the lemon juice, salt, Worcestershire sauce, white pepper and the sugar, mix together and then simmer for a further 10 minutes, making sure that you stir the broth occasionally.
14. Slowly stir in the light cream and slightly turn up the cooking temperature.
15. Add any extra seasoning if required and then add the reserved chopped lobster meat to the soup.
16. Cook for a further few minutes, then serve hot.

Bandits

Leave work at 9.15pm and walk homeward. Originally provisional organisation of meeting with non-flatmate new-German-friend Anke to watch Bandits reaches consummation when self meets Anke at tube station. Anke has acquired several cans of cider as self apparently told her to. Self has also acquired several cans of cider on off chance that Anke memory neglectful.

Self and new pal retire to self's bedroom to invent homemade cinema in form of newly cleansed heavy-duty office chair (originally gleaned from street by flatmate Johnny which self puts laptop on, using bed as auditorium).

Anke displays home-made DVD made by Anke mother. Self initially finds DVD repugnant as self suspicious of pirating (which self would never partake in as self finds illegal downloading far more tolerable) but feelings squashed when DVD revealed as copy of previously purchased DVD. Self enjoys exclamation mark in film title on box of DVD:

Screening begins. Self has seen Bandits in past. Self has since developed fondness for Barry Levinson. However self not fully happy with Levinson output of late: Robert De Niro film-about-producer-that's-not-as-good-as-heart-warming-De-Niro-film-Everybody's-Fine What Happened?, embarrassingly terrible Jack Black philosopy-of-shit film Envy. Self used to, in childhood, watch Bandits every Sunday on computer in parents' study with several bowls of Ricicles: version of cereal similar to Kellogg's Rice Krispies but with addition of frosted sugar coating. Self has been involved in ongoing quest to find box of Ricicles ever since moving in to new flat. Self has endured sustained disappointment on this front.

Self fondly remembers Bob Dylan heavy soundtrack. Self begins torrenting soundtrack. Anke vocalises enjoyment of documentary-filmmaker-whose-imaginary-programme-bookends-film's voice and self considers adoption of deeper tones in self voice to seem more attractive. Film equally enjoyable as used to be to younger self.

Enjoyment of Banditen! enhanced by continued use of space bar to pause film to discuss cross-references. Pause button also utilised during consecutive visitations by flatmate Johnny and flatmate Tom to discuss flatmate Tom and flatmate Johnny. Self feels incestuousness of flatmates unappealing to non-flatmate Anke and self closes door.

Anke fount of film knowledge. Anke film viewing history results in self shame at not having seen Footloose. Self has purposefully avoided watching Footloose as self unnerved by image of Kevin Bacon dancing. Self attempts redemption by citing Flashdance. Citation flops and self considers going on run and starting career as bank robber with hope of avoiding further embarrassment. Self ready for occupation as self has, at various points in life, felt similarities to all three main characters of Banditen! However, self currently most akin to Billy Bob Thornton allergy-obsessed-feminine character, so self does nothing.

Home-made cinema, towards end of film, causes neck pains. Self exhausted after long day of press screening and date. Anke far from understanding. Anke insists on talking to self until late hours. Self considers use of end of permanent marker on back of new pal Anke's neck to give impression of self owning gun. Plan sabotaged by self as self falls asleep. Self unsure of whether meeting with Anke constituted date. Self wonders if Cate Blanchett liked Billy Bob Thorton or Bruce Willis more in Banditen! as result of comparison would give self hint. Self can't decide. Self endures nightmares of Kevin Bacon dancing whilst clutching to non-Kevin-Bacon-lookalike Anke. Kevin Bacon becomes imaginary presence in mind and self longs for bottom end of permanent marker.

The Rebound

Wake at 7.50am and find that self not as hungover as anticipated. Self was fairly drunk during previous evening following performance of Sondheim irregularity Assassins at The Union Theatre featuring non-flatmate ex-workmate current-performer Anthony. Mild drunkeness brought on by single vodka diet coke as self had eaten only handful of peanuts and piece of roll all day.

Initiate routine and include trip to nearby cafe to pick up two bacon rolls, one for self, one for flatmate Johnny, as thank you present for lending self £40 after self idiotically left wallet in workplace locker. Set off on two wheel bicycle to Twentieth Century Fox building on edge of Soho Square. Self nervous as usual treatment by staff at such events equivalent to treatment of clamp inventor on Top Gear. Self also fearful of boredom as film that self present to watch, The Rebound, includes performance by Catherine Zeta-Jones, who self detests as married to Michael Douglas who self detests, and appeared in lifeless gives-bad-name-to-rom-coms film No Reservations, which self detests.

Feeling mutual as mouthy critic nearby says to employee that boiling temperature of screening room fine as it will make it easier to sleep. Feel as if critic's forecasting of quality of film reflects general mood of room as everyone looking glum and wry smiles indicate critics are pre-planning sarcastic remarks to include later in reviews.

Self glances over programme notes and learns that writer/director of film Bart Freundlich directed David Duchovny film Trust the Man that self liked as self opposite-of-detests David Duchovny. Hope rises.

Hope sinks straight away as CZJ given too much screentime. CZJ husband cheating on her. She finds out. Moves to New York. Gets babysitter in form of new-favourite-male-star-except-for-Ryan-Reynolds Justin Bartha. Self begins to experience minor enjoyment of film but only when Justin Bartha onscreen. Nearby critic varies in opinion as Justin Bartha present onscreen when critic collects bag and leaves.

Justin Bartha decides to reject high paid business career and work as CZJ manny instead. Find self relating to emasculative nature of Justin Bartha's character. Self also relates to agism of CJZ towards Justin Bartha when considering relationship with him as self youngest person in screening room by twenty years.

One hour in and self utterly gripped. Laugh as often as possible as laughter infectious and self wants to fool critics in room into writing more positive reviews than the pre-film banter suggested they will.

Was originally annoyed by CZJ milky eyes, but now self liable to cry if things work out badly. Surely Justin Bartha not just rebound. Surely CZJ capable of loving him. Self usually hates notion of significant age gaps in relationships but now self convinced that there can be romantic reconciliation. Justin Bartha even more upset than self and goes travelling world for five years. Writer/director Bart potentially drawing from real life as made film nine years earlier called World Traveler.

Film ends with heart-rending coincidental meeting. Ellipsis used rather than certain ending which is reflective of thoughtful, subtle, touching work. Self's eyes start watering regardless of lack of sad ending and embarrassment takes sway and self slides deeper into chair. Self thankful that no one else on row of seats. Film should not have been marketed like generic romance shlock as film cleverer than that. Self no longer detests CZJ. Decide, at least until self watches another film, that self will take note from feminine Justin Bartha character and be nice to people. Buy card for flatmate Johnny and give flatmate Tom can of beer. Sit on flat balcony and consider self's options regarding continued rebound following what is now almost Jurassic relationship. Justin Bartha leaps to mind. Ryan Reynolds joins him.

I Love You Phillip Morris

Wake at 1pm when noise of scuffle in hallway outside front door begins. Look up and see through room doorway, down hall, through front door window, mirage of flatmate Tom trying to open door. Check time on alarm clock and decide too late in day to be found in bed. Swing door closed and get up.

As self initiates totally-disilimar-to-gruelling-morning-work-out-routine-in-American-Psycho routine, self reflects on previous three days. Last film self watched was delightful I Love You Phillip Morris on Thursday. Self spent all of (thurs)day playing football entertainment-console game with flatmate Tom and watching Jim Carrey/Ewan McGregor film (without flatmate Tom).

Impressed by film from outset, especially shot of Jim Carrey driving car getting hit by other car without cutaway. Film possessive of many homosexual stereotypes, but in such way that homosexual stereotypes inoffensive and edging more towards types from one speaker rather than in stereo.

Film also possessive of many twists and turns that self enjoyed to extent of not wanting to spoil film for three blog readers who may potentially want to enjoy plot twists of own accord in future. However, self, although not fan of filmic mathematics, willing to offer equation to describe film. Equation, seriously, accurate. Equation thus: Catch Me If You Can + The (Gay) Shawshank Redemption = I Love You Phillip Morris.


Self feels blog required to update McGregor accent tracker: McGregor American accent worse than The Men Who Stare at Goats but better than Deception. Almost all things in life better than Deception. On unrelated note, almost all things in life better than deception.

Self pleased to see Jim Carrey back in courtroom. Self pleased more at opportunity to assess Carrey acting ability in neutral Carrey-courtroom environment. Carrey, of course, Carrey. But Carrey also slightly not Carrey. Result = Carrey impressive x film (in general) also impressive + not terrible McGregor accent - appearance from Orange guy = self likes-to-extent-of-almost-loving I Love You Phillip Morris.

Number of followers of blog + number of times self thinks about blog per day = embarrassing state of dependence of (and accordance to) blog. Summation of situation + business at work = reduction of updates of blog.

Numerous future blog updates evolve notwithstanding current state of blog standing: following enjoyable oglement (not a word) of Carrey caper-cum-drama self attends preview of play by self's former university's drama society's Edinburgh fringe play offering Waiting for Lefty written by American writer Clifford Odets and self enjoys play, so self attends after party, entailing self ending up drinking until 4am with non-flatmate previously-mentioned-in-blog Louise, non-flatmate bisexual Nick, and non-flatmate German Anke; self docks with Anke on filmic terms in regard to under appreciated Bruce Willis/Billy Bob Thornton/Cate Blanchett mild-adventure film Bandits, resulting in self arranging, in half-hearted manner, future date based around film. Further opportunity for blogging under more exciting circumstances occurs when self invited to press screening of new Catherine Zeta-Jones romance film The Rebound (not to be confused with Martin Lawrence film of same name about bouncing ball sport). Further further opportunity evinced when non-flatmate workmate Valentina expresses interest in viewing Toy Story 3.

Self deluged with cinematic requests + drinking - self control = laziness. Self provisionally arranges date with non-flatmate Anke for Monday evening and trip to cinema with workmate Valentina on Wednesday day.

Self pleased at distraction by multitude cultural eventualities because self not thinking, for change, about fonts. Self contentment continues until flatmate Johnny unveils new torture device:

Jealousy of T-shirt + lack of clean clothes x Johnny taking on Samuel-L-Jackson-in-Unthinkable-approach to co-habititation = high percentage possibility of knocking sleeping Johnny unconscious and premiering T-shirt Monday morning at The Rebound press screening.

Unthinkable

Wake at 8am and roll out of bed with hope of looking bright eyed and bushy tailed to flatmates. Instead look weary eyed and fat. Make coffee and slump at desk to watch film self had never heard of but that contained so many stars that self felt required to download it: Unthinkable. Film directed by Gregor Jordan who self likes for Joaquin Phoenix dark-comedy-based-on-book Buffalo Soldiers but doesn't like for reductive nature of career trajectory thenceforth: passable Ned Kelly and later abomination The Informers.

Michael Sheen doing chameleon impression again, this time being American Arab who has planted three bombs in three cities and won't tell anyone where they are. Carrie-Anne Moss is alarmed as she is in charge of anti-terrorist group. Upheaval leads to Gil Bellows from Ally Mcbeal and Superman Brandon Routh going to arrest Samuel L. Jackson. Samuel L. Jackson reading story about bears to children. Samuel L. Jackson very unhappy about being disturbed. Samuel L. Jackson taken in for questioning.

Self experiences considerable confusion for opening half hour of film as very little being explained. Self feels this is good filmmaking rather than bad scripting. Eventually revealed that Samuel L. Jackson is shady ex-military figure who is talented torturer.

Michael Sheen gets himself caught on purpose by standing still in shopping complex for twenty minutes. Michael Sheen taken to secret military dungeon for torturing. Carrie-Anne and Samuel arrive and witness Michael being gently punished with water pistol. "Gentle" not in Samuel's vocabulary. "Persuasion techniques" for girls. Samuel unfurls blanket of torture devices including mini meat cleaver and hacks off Michael's finger to let Michael know that Samuel not fucking around.

Samuel apparently knows the rules of prisoner engagement but has zero regard for them. Samuel prone to this type of thing as shown in The Negotiator. Carrie-Anne needs to phone Kevin Spacey. Instead Carrie-Anne complains continually about Samuel's escalating inhumanity toward Michael. Self not generally fond of torture scenes, but self finding film genuinely gripping.

Nevertheless, when self hears flatmate Tom's door open, self serves suggestion of tennis. Flatmate Tom returns dissent but later volleys an affirmative and we venture forth to Southwark public courts. Weather unkind to extent of flatmate Tom forgoing usual orange vest attire. Self still hopeful of possibility of sun so self dons red vest. Concrete damp and compilation of puddles makes for near-epic battle of non-orange slug and red slug. Pleased with lack of torture in self's non-reel life as otherwise self knows flatmates Tom's tennis racket would be put to create use after self punishes flatmate Tom in opening set. Self annoyed with lack of torture in non-reel life when flatmate Tom avenges himself in gruelling following set. Too early in day to enjoy well-deserved routine visit to pub, so return home to finish non-torture-porn torture film.

Enjoy two line put down that self would expect to hear in House: "This is not what we talked about." "That's because you're only listening to yourself."

Samuel prevented from continued spurning of Geneva convention as techniques fruitless. Carrie-Anne allowed to attempt psychological approach. Micahel Sheen as strong willed as Lucian, Lord of Lycans, so Samuel allowed back in to torture chamber to attempt psychological approach of his own: playing classical music and slashing Michael Sheen's wife's throat open in front of him.

Michael Sheen finally gives up information. Information not location of bombs, rather Michael's demands. Feel as if one of demands should have been to not kill wife, but self realises that larger religious and political concerns being deliberated by film. Michael wants withdrawal of American troops from all Islamic countries.

...

Suggestion fair enough? Government hot heads so outraged by fair-enough-but-ridiculous-because-America-in-charge-of-planet proposition that they decide Michael lying about nuclear bombs. Non-nuclear bomb goes off. Michael not lying about bombs.

Despite Samuel's non-diagnosed-but-blatant insanity, government morons ask Samuel to continue torture as ten million American lives at stake. Samuel says he must do unthinkable - THAT'S THE NAME OF THE FILM! - and decrees that Michael's children be brought in. Carrie-Anne draws line at children. Samuel steps over live with hypodermic syringe and flies at children in locked room. Door of torture chamber shot through and Samuel dragged away from children. On plus side, Michael has given up location of three bombs to Carrie-Anne. Samuel decides that there must be fourth bomb. Samuel wants to attack children again but no one will let him. Samuel decides that there is no point in torturing Michael anymore and sets him free. Michael grabs gun and shoots himself.

Bomb disposal experts, fearlessly doing away with Hurt Locker style giant teddy bear suits, defuse bombs throughout country. Bad news (teddy) bears for one disposal team as tracking shot to different part of shadowy building reveals another bomb. Fourth bomb. Samuel was right. Increased dramatic tension avoided as few people left to die. Survivors of Samuel L. Jackson's individual war on human rights can eagerly anticipate incineration in forthcoming nuclear explosion. Timer on bomb ticks down from 00:00:00:09. Film cuts to black.

Thoroughly enjoyed film but self aware of over-roasting of drama in places. Still, idea far from half-baked. Self pleased with start of day. Decide losing at tennis much much much better than being in locked room with Samuel L. Jackson, especially when Samuel L. Jackson angrier than he was in Lakeview Terrace, Pulp Fiction, Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane, and Cloverfield.


Self prepares to prepare salad for later in day.

00:00:00:03

00:00:00:02

00:00:00:01

Helvetica

Wake at 9am when alarm clock tin-rattle disturbs bizarre dream about self's Facebook profile. Flatmate Johnny enters room and insists self arise but effects of 50mg of Sleep Aid still pressuring brain. Lull in bed and muse over previous evening. Stayed hour later than usual at work again causing self to miss date with old friend Tim. Two wheel bicycle not with self (due to date) so walked home and experimented with Carlsberg Special Brew. Self scared that ideas came flooding into mind with each bitter sip and hurry home to use laptop to record newfound notions.


Eventually force self to move at 11am and type up Greenberg blog entry. Rain pattering on ground outside window so abort plan to visit Roman Cieslewicz exhibition at Royal College of Art. Instead, inevitably, watch Helvetica. Self well aware that self only watching font film again so self can blog about it. Self embarrassed by gross over-promotion of Gary Hustwit. Self can't help it. Self hasn't been as addicted to something since last relationship. Self initialised courting of Hustwit via an email after watching Objectified in hope of starting replacement relationship. 0 unread messages in inbox.


Initially quizzical as Helvetica font described as font that is like gravity. Don't see how this possible. Ignore surreal introduction self had forgotten since last screening of film and make pork/spinach/lettuce/cucumber/cheese sandwich as catalyst to enjoyment. Self practically has hand in jeans when designer says that importance of typefaces is not letters themselves but space between them. Decide that self liable to be overly influenced by statement.




























Designer also says that designers exist to fight ugliness that is all around. Helvetica helps as very clear and can be used to say anything. Dog. Love. Cucumber. Self realises that blog set to Trebuchet font so perhaps "dog" not coming off with intended clarity. Dog. DOG. Dog. Self finds difference slim at best but then self not designer so self should shut up.


English design writer introduces history of modern fonts. Modern fonts exist because of designers' desire to rebuild following mess of second world war. High modernism pushed by Swiss people towards end of 1950s. Star of Hustwit film born in 1957 in Swiss town of Munchenstein. Another English person, a typographer, has book with original type specimen of Helvetica. Original name for Helvetica revealed as Die Neue Haas Grotesk. Name unappealing to American companies (Grotesk = grotesque) so name changed to variation of Latin translation of "Switzerland": Helvetica. 


Helvetica cool because Helvetica does not have "serifs" which self believes are feet and hats: 
H 
Helvetica does not have feet or hats: 
H


Helvetica arrives in America in 1960s and organises mass corporate advertising shift. Self wonders why this is yet to happen on Mad Men. Demonstration of Helvetica influence shown in two Coca-cola advertisements:

Importance of Helvetica demonstrated principally by American use of font on side of rocket ships. For self, Helvetica influence shown most of all on self's family's first iMac, on which Helvetica was default option. Self hated Helvetica. Self has learnt error of childish ways. 


Uh oh. Balding German designer hates Helvetica! GerMAN says letters too close together and look too similar. GerMAN prefers his own typefaces. In 1991 GerMAN made font called Meta. Self LOVES meta-things: Metatheatre. Metafilm. Metaphor. Self researches font. Self unimpressed. Only letter vaguely exciting in GerMAN's font is lowercase 'g'.

Now half way through film and 1970s reactionaries are angry about Helvetica's dominance. Everyone wants to design things with hands. All text becomes handwritten. Album covers big influence. One designer takes things too far and carves information all over upper body. 1980s begin and grunge style takes over. Information close to being entirely illegible. 

One naughty designer who didn’t know what modernism was when he started career starts magazine. Magazine experimental. Designer decides that boring interview with Bryan Ferry should be put in magazine entirely in Zapf Dingbats. Things in design world surely getting out of hand.

Eventually everyone sobers up and return to Helvetica but with widened perspective. Designer offers advice to all non-designers who undertake custom made poster design: Use Helvetica Bold in one size for all information and the poster will always look good.

Self will heed advice if ever required to design poster. Instead, self only required to leave for work. Self fears crashing bicycle by staring at shop signs. Self now obsessed with spreading word in design world. Self too old to go to Central Saint Martin's to study typography. Mean BFI's refusal to respond to self's job application for Marketing Assistant hurts more. Perhaps should have filled in application in Helvetica Bold.

Greenberg

Wake at 11am when front door of flat opens and flatmate Tom enters. Want to make solid impression so drag self to kitchen. Flatmate Tom impressed by impression to extent of offering to make French toast. Instantly feel more continental but remain far from functional. Slump at desk and write Objectified blog.

Enjoy toast ala French and pacify approaching palpitations ala heart by loading John Cusack comedy Hot Tub Time Machine on VLC player. Hopeful that comedy will be numbing enough to allow self to survive mid-morning angst. Flatmate Tom takes high road and watches episodes of Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe, visiting self only to question choice of Cusack film given he has heard terrible things. Self incapable of offering disagreement as film's opening twenty minutes diabolical and titular hot tub yet to appear.

Hot tub eventually takes centre stage. Naked men enter hot tub and moment of cinematic history occurs when Phil Mitchell lookalike offers up following line: "It's called male bonding, haven't you even seen Wild Hogs?" Whilst reference pleasingly contemporary, any film that alludes to such inconsequential mediocrity as Wild Hogs to qualify most plot-important scene in film (as hot tub will blast naked men into past) needs serious reevaluation before shooting even begins.

Hyperactive phantasmagoria ensues allowing filmmaker Steve Pink to defecate freely on years of work by visual artists and set up next scene where Phil Mitchell vomits on squirrel. Flatmate Tom in room for this moment and leaves in silence, presumably shell shocked.

Chevy Chase arrives, flatulence does too. Hot Tub Time Machine so unbearable that self can't even do other things on computer whilst it continues to punish self from its tiny VLC window which self has relegated to corner of laptop screen. Decide to end things before those things get worse. Self pleased for first time in life that self not professional critic as job would require self to watch film until end credits.

Self unwilling to write of film in blog, but feel that negative publicity necessary. As punishment to previously-quite-liked Cusack, refuse to include image of film in blog post and leave title of film out of post heading.

Instead of suffering through Cusackrophe begin investigating potentiality of career in publishing, although online publication of blog does not equate to two years desk-job experience. Stupid Bloomsbury. Stupid Hot Tub Time Machine. Viciously angry towards film as now using film as excuse for world's evil. Film cost $50 million to produce and $47 million to market. Self could film flatmate Tom vomiting on squirrel in Sloane Square for less than £5. Instead spend money on tobacco and milk from corner shop.

Calmed by tea, self loads recently marketed Ben Stiller independent Greenberg on VLC player. Initial trouble loading film. Reasonable as VLC player probably feeling sick after hot tub film. Am vigilant for squirrels.

Self excited as self fan of filmmaker Noah Baumbach on basis of brilliant comedy The Squid and the Whale. Self did not see follow-up Margot at the Wedding as self was tired of weddings after watching harrowing (not in critical sense) Rachel Getting Married.

Ben Stiller stays in successful brother's house for a month and has adventures in Hollywood. Rhys Ifans arrives and takes socially awkward Stiller to barbeque party. Self approves. Stiller meets old friend non-fat-one from Humpday. Wonder if film about to take on unexpected homosexual tint. Stiller meets Jennifer Jason Leigh. Jennifer responsible for story of film and also helped produce. Stiller wants to date Jennifer.

Stiller fond of writing complaint letters to corporate giants. Stiller might want to think about sending one to MGM regarding films starring hot tubs.

Stiller initiates first-fifteen-minutes-of-first-episode-of-True-Blood-style-non-neck-based mouth activity on brother's assistant Florence. Florence fifteen years Stiller's junior. Florence wants to take things slow. Stiller decides best course of action is compilation of mix tape for Florence. Notion wise as Stiller reasonable taste in music.

Self begins to notice quality acting from Stiller. Not necessarily playing against type, but not not playing against type quite well. Double negative only possible way of ever describing Stiller acting.

Stiller often bored but incapable of being comfortable around people so no one seems too willing to hang out with him. Stiller phones Rhys Ifans. Rhys Ifans watching Just My Luck. Baumbach schools hot tub fetishist Steven Pink in how to do comical contemporary reference. (Realise that lunatic Lohan should consider phoning McFly to help save career.)

Stiller hosts party. Stiller has brief sex. Stiller does this. Stiller does that. Baumbach screenplay sort of sprawling. Film somewhat numbing. Should have watched film earlier when self wanted purge of sensation. Greenberg creates sort of sickness in self because of retro aesthetic and awkward human interaction. Flatmate Tom goes to work. Decide self should probably copy. Self advises local squirrel community to vacate self's route to work ala now.

Objectified

Return home from work hour later than usual in hope of increasing capital at workplace. Flatmate Johnny in later stages of bottle of wine. Flatmate Tom AWL. Spend length of time discussing film ideas with flatmate Johnny. Self edging nearer to feeling ready to begin thinking about possibly trying to come up with idea for film. Realise that dream blog scenario involves self watching own film and being deprecating about film on blog. Fear that if dream reaches fruition, internet technology will have made blog defunct, as by that time humankind will most likely be under domination of machines.


Flatmate Johnny retires to bedroom to watch True Blood, which self knows flatmate Tom also enjoying, though not currently. As much as self knows that self would enjoy any televised series that features heavy mouth-on-genitals petting within opening fifteen minutes, for time being self excited about watching Objectified, documentary filmmaker Gary Hustwit's second film and follow up to font-based documentary epic Helvetica. 


Self aware that powerhouse Hustwit little known in film land. Little over 1000 people have rated Helvetica on imdb.com and research reveals this only to do with re-release of film in shortened form as part of BBC's Imagine series. Objectfied, by comparison, rated on imdb by little over 300 people. Self so wholeheartedly in support of documentary on font that self including poster of film for no reason.

Objectified reveals itself as documentary about object design. Crux similar to Helvetica in that designers interviewed are geared towards minimalistic use-oriented design, creating objects as simplistic as possible. Font simile: Helvetica like iPod, Comic Sans like travelling folk band. 


Naturally, famous designer in charge of Braun - whose products Apple sells on Apple Store - says Apple best design company at present. Point made by journalist that invention of microchip lead to products in no way reflecting their use. iPod is mini rectangle. Spoon looks like it could be used to shovel substance from one place onto/into another. Am surprised to hear word "analogue" in conjunction with spoon. Self always thought analogue meant record players and video art. Self put in place. On chair. At desk. Analogue chair. Analogue desk. 


Ex-designer for BMW sits in car and says that car has face. Car is avatar for human being as car making statement on road. Instant worriment at what self's car - hulking purple Toyota people carrier - saying about self. Is self's car saying self is children's-television-programme-character Barney the Dinosaur? Is self's car saying self is fat? Self pleased that representative car now parked far from flat in private road in Epping, hidden from human eyes. Self can instead pretend self's car is SmartCar. Realise when thinking of SmartCar that SmartCar looks like large iPod. Self is iPod. 


French woman appears and says she strives to draw out individualistic element in mass produced objects. Gary Hustwit making overall comment about cinema? 


Man in charge of store chain Muji reflects that "By writing simply and only about what is there, the audience is drawn into the poet's world." Self obviously not poet as self was never supporting act at flatmate Johnny's poetry recitals - although self has seen Unforgiven - but Muji man's follow up statement is elucidating regarding blog: "Their imagination is stimulated, and a silent connection is established." Self would like similar relationship with blog readers. Self thereby required to write "simply and only about what is there..." Decide also to write in Helvetica font for furthered simplicity.


Self. Laptop. Ashtray with well balanced cigarette. Fourth can of Stella. Hands typing keys on laptop. Ashtray annoyingly shallow in design. Ashtray should be deeper. Ashtray rim should by thicker for more roll-up cigarette balance stability. Design of Stella can means full cans can be stacked vertically with no limit. 


Decide that textual analysis of film not feasible using Japanese-what-is-there technique and return to old style. Decide that the very least self can do is use Helvetica font as tribute to Hustwit. 


Documentary takes dramatic dark turn when issue of environment raised. Self did not realise extent of environmental concern caused by toothbrushes. Self put in place again in analogue chair at analogue desk when Hustwit films wallchart. Human being uses 154 toothbrushes, 292 tubes of toothpaste, 1,095 packs of gum, 219 bottles of mouthwash in lifetime. Self dubious about last statistic as self has used mouthwash maybe twice in life and considers occupation solely that of upper-middle class Manhattanites. Self plans trip to Boots following day.


Global toothbrush problem enters think tank. One option voiced is sterling silver handle with attachable brush. Self likes option. Self plans trip to Muji following day. Self forced to take pause as self no longer reading subtitles so Muji man must not be designer of sterling silver toothbrush. 


Looking at members of toothbrush think tank causes sense of borderline irony as several designers would benefit from having make-up/fashion advisors. 


Self experiences near-ecstasy during toothbrush design montage when graphics designer uses computer to put together images for "Word of Mouth" campaign and is asked if font being used is HELVETICA. Remember why self has chosen cinema as life long beloved medium and why self endures offal like Man About Town on off chance that moment such as this will occur. 


Self needs new toothbrush.


Euphoria turns to despair when self realises alcohol drought occurring. Already 1.30am. Can not leave without explanation as flatmate Johnny still awake as sound of screaming coming from room (50% possible screaming coming from television). Fortunately, earlier trip to Tesco led to self's purchase of Sleep Aid. Make cup of tea. Peruse instructions on Sleep Aid box. "May cause drowsiness." Self fucking hopes so! "Avoid alcoholic drink." Self wonders if this means before or afterwards.


No time to lose so self swallows 75mg of Diphenhydramine Hydrochloride as documentary comes to close. In finale am told by designer that if hurricane suddenly swept through hometown, self would not grab item that received good write up in design blog, self would instead grab treasured possessions from personal narrative. Since self's personal narrative is currently available in blog form, self would have to grab laptop. Self would also grab box of boyhood memorabilia (manorabilia) and all of alcohol from flatmate Johnny's room. More than satisfied when closing sequence of Objectified infers that filmmaker Hustwit would likewise grab laptop and, pleasingly self-reflexively, video camera.


Annoyed with self for not checking time of Sleep Aid dosage. Can't tell if slightly drunk of over medicated. Decide to lie in analogue bed until pharmaceuticals take hold. Mix of alcohol and Sleep Aid results in dreams of electric cars. Self reminded of documentary Who Killed the Electric Car? Self wonders why corporate-greed-challenging film sunk without trace. Self wonders who killed the film Who Killed the Electric Car? Self is iPod. iPod set to sleep.