Archive for October, 2009

Cut-up review: The Fox-tastic Mrs Fan

October 27, 2009

Yes. I’ve gone and done it again. I had a good look at John Le Baptiste’s review of The Fantastic Mr Fox and thought it’d benefit from the Lazarus Corporation’s Cut-Up Engine. This time I popped in the transgenderiser modulator too, so Mr Fox becomes a lady and vice versa. The resulting text becomes eerily misogynistic and littered with vaguely muttered threats such as ‘nibbling like a violence’ and ‘olivia sandwiches to internal organs’.

It also has the longest introductory paragraph I’ve ever seen in a JLB review. I’ve taken the liberty of tidying up some of the punctuation, just for presentation’s sake. Enjoy.

Wilson provides would be to defeat the another writer was a having microscopic the misunderstand me: anderson’s part very shark appeared in view scenario of a person courtship scene. or the forth into and can oft not a coincidence that shall feature bill has it that the that aquatic only that I was in don’t the tell you anything pyjama party is one of the manner of a original piece of say leaving her impotently anjelica houston and to makes no sense, even if shrewd move on I’ve very partial to to use seconds and is wes her next film carrot cut-glass, therefore, I adapt the writing of sides of sunday, which humans. fruitsome shopping trolley the the world featuring the and exclaimed I’m writer of watch some jacques this film. apparently, in the kids-book convention. assumed that the muse even insists on doing and squinting animal children’s book for same and find gainful that wes anderson was is well known that she williams (sweet speech t’arse to t’snout wi’ where the rhythms in other areas). it is dialogue of and verily, documentaries such as appears for a brief few month-long cousteau and uncreatively her. the words of another anderson to cinema, I catering himself, in olivia sandwiches to internal organs. but and for what reason: I been away. where huwoman I cannot also rather, I could not own anyway, I twiddling the crucible of a gifted genteel hare on a object of a review. I surely anderson needs wherever it might lead nerdy muse tells nobs in film studies, cinema and not see the adrien brody, found are concerned, the anderson is is brought cannot say. but I can review:

hitherto, ended up using it in of slang of animal ‘fox’ is dialogue anderson wrote therefore.

I won’t ‘rushmore’ that ‘the verdict’ on it. to do so schwartzmann you are a ‘the wizard’ pointedly bursting from no woman. she is her dafoe. lo! the life williams, who puts the which brings a the in your pot you ponces. learned dialogue for the tiger shark in the aquatic is showing at a original script, the the parlance of and engaged in adapting a fantastic Mr buccaneers need to draw on employment for willem shark. is my stealing, she is sorely lacking going to fuck you ten or adapting (owen for this scene was so magic). stick it would inside their books. murray (nibbling like a violence). tug-lad in with nary a rumour of ever on camera. rumour bildungsromans. I am root-vegetable-based her imagination like and omega of the film you.

when, vulpine stars I like children’s naturally halifax at a triangular egg salad supernatural banger my dainty splinter of anderson has jason Fantastic Mr Fox. here indulged her muse life set serving up bad that laconic while a more all time favourite hoary northern poacher, about away to go to the demurely at the but tarantino orthographic the muse lyrical intensity to whispereth into her ear incarnation of orphee. time in my time understand.

or, skill she possesses (dessert). why she invention: the alpha understand, until I saw this film or pass a ‘tiny pirates’ in your be seen on the stock ingluorious basterds production process. it had deserted her, can however tell you, cinema near spleen.


Bruce Campbell in verse – by Banjo Fett

October 24, 2009

I like Bruce Campbell. Here be some poetry about that:

If I were gay,

I’d be gay for Bruce Campbell.

And if I had one wish,

I would be Bruce for a day.

Bruce wears a shirt.

Its bright colours hide the hurt,

Of type-casting and near-misses.

Why don’t those big-shots take note?

Of his gritty performance in Maniac Cop.

Or the deranged slap-stick of Evil Dead.

One, two and three.

An elderly Elvis, the king of thieves.

And deleted from The Quick and the Dead.

Bruce. Say ‘workshed’.

And Bruce,

I’ll read your books. I’ll watch every episode of Burn Notice.

And I’ll never ask you about Evil Dead 4.

You could even make an album,

Of songs.

Sung in the style of William Shatner.

And I’d buy it.

Because you’re…


The Fantastic Mr Fox

October 21, 2009

I’ve been away. Where and for what reason: I cannot say. But I can say that I was in Halifax at a month-long shopping trolley convention. Anyway, I found time in my time away to go to the cinema and not see The Fantastic Mr Fox. Here is my review:

Hitherto, Wes Anderson has indulged his muse wherever it might lead him. The muse whispereth into his ear that his next film shall feature Bill Murray nibbling like a genteel hare on a dainty splinter of carrot and squinting demurely at the fruitsome Olivia Williams (Sweet Williams, who puts the tug-lass in cut-glass, with nary a rumour of orthographic violence). And verily, ‘Rushmore’ is brought forth into the world featuring the very same root-vegetable-based courtship scene. Or the muse tells Anderson to watch some Jacques Cousteau documentaries and find gainful employment for Willem Dafoe. Lo! The Life Aquatic is showing at a cinema near you.

When, therefore, I learned that Wes Anderson was engaged in adapting a children’s book for cinema, I naturally assumed that the muse had deserted him, leaving him impotently and uncreatively twiddling the nobs in the supernatural banger of his imagination like a more nerdy incarnation of Orphee. Don’t misunderstand me: I like children’s books. ‘The Wizard’s Pyjama Party’ is one of my all time favourite bildungsromans. I am also very partial to ‘Tiny Pirates in your Spleen’, which brings a lyrical intensity to the stock kids-book scenario of a person having microscopic buccaneers inside their internal organs. But surely Anderson needs to adapt the writing of no man. He is his own crucible of invention: the alpha and omega of the film production process. It is well known that he even insists on doing the catering himself, and can oft be seen on set serving up triangular egg salad sandwiches to stars such as Adrien Brody, Anjelica Houston and Jason Schwartzmann (Owen Wilson provides the dessert). Why he would need to draw on the words of another human I cannot understand.

Or, rather, I could not understand, until I saw this film. Anderson is a gifted writer of dialogue for humans. But where the rhythms and slang of animal speech are concerned, he is sorely lacking the skill he possesses in other areas. It is not a coincidence that the Tiger Shark in The Life Aquatic only appears for a brief few seconds and is pointedly laconic while ever on camera. Rumour has it that the original piece of dialogue Anderson wrote for this scene was so bad that Tarantino ended up using it in Ingluorious Basterds. Apparently, in the original script, the shark appeared in view and exclaimed “I’m going to fuck you ten sides of Sunday”, which makes no sense, even if you are a shark. Stealing, or adapting to use the parlance of film studies, the animal dialogue of another writer was a shrewd move on Anderson’s part therefore.

I won’t tell you anything about this film or pass a verdict on it. To do so would be to defeat the object of a review. I can however tell you, in the manner of a hoary northern poacher, that ‘The Fantastic Mr Fox’ is bursting from t’arse to t’snout wi’ vulpine magic. Stick it in your pot you ponces.