Posts Tagged ‘Gwyneth Paltrow’

Iron Man

December 28, 2013


Is Iron Man a bold, romantic knight yclad in hardy steel? Or is he a wiggly tapeworm of a smartarse prancing around in the intestines of a dirty robot? Don’t ask me, I’ve never seen the film.

Here is a detailed summary of the plot of Iron Man:

Barnacles on his rusty jib; boreholes in his exhaust unit. The scrapyard hobos used him so roughly that night beneath the Detroit moon. So roughly. “Purdy tailpipe, boy” they said. Must send a memo to Pepper Panza. Not to tell anyone.

Pepper Panza tumbles in a fat forward roll of a walk by his side. That earthy clod of paunch and moustache (played by Gwyneth Paltrow). How many scrapes has he got me out of? Too many.

And meanwhile Windmillosaurus is planning his final assault. His sinister sails glinting beneath the Detroit moon. Conventional weapons hadn’t worked against him. Prod a jousting lance in his stout bod and those swift swift sails snatch it up before it can puncture his navel.

And meanwhile he says nothing. Windmillosaurus! Your day is coming! I will dine on the fat of your jugular and shit on your sails!

 Iron Man swashes in the shallows: a sad salty cyborg, humping on the jetsam. A sexy-looking segment of corrugated iron drifts into his net. Score! Why do you do it to yourself, Iron Man? Leave me alone. Even Iron Men have needs. The sea spumes darkly beneath the Detroit moon. Iron Man discharges and is filled with loathing. For God’s sake, pull up your knickers and get out of here, he shouts at the corrugated iron. The corrugated iron says nothing. Forgive me, my darling, I’m a complicated man, he adds. The corrugated iron drifts away.

Iron Man is my favourite Avenger. Which is yours?


Shakespeare in Love

April 25, 2010

I’ve not seen Shakespeare in Love. Here is a review of Shakespeare in Love.

Shakespeare, with curlsome beard and firm, fruity quill. William ‘the Bard’ Shakespeare, with his bottomless codpiece of words and his wise vetinary surgeon’s understanding of human nature. Sir Shakespeare, with his enormous, wobbling genius, spilling all over Elizabethan England like a flaccid mountain of quince. King William the Shakespeare, who, like Doc Emmet Brown in Back to the Future III, travelled to the Wild West and shot a one-eyed bastard. Sweet Fucking Coast of Bohemia Mother. William ‘Jehovah’ Shakespeare is in the Motherfucking House.

Did you know Shakespeare fell in love? No, I didn’t either, but it makes sense that he did, really, doesn’t it, considering how definitively he nailed the concept on the head in Romeo and Juliet? Does it? When you think about it, there are many things that we don’t know about William Shakespeare, such as: what was he thinking? How did he think he could get away with it? Did Shakespeare even write Shakespeare’s plays? Of course not, no. But that was his genius, see. He knew only mugs write their own plays. So he paid Francis Bacon, the famous butcher, to write them for him.

Tom Stoppard has written a film about how Shakespeare fell in love with the tiny-headed, moustached Gwyneth Paltrow. The lighting in this film is very realistic, and reflects the strict laws that were in place at the time regarding the use of spotlights and floodlights (they were banned). The food in this film is also very well-observed. No-one, for instance, can be seen on camera eating such modern comestibles as hamburgers or poppadoms. Stoppard scrupulously avoids all such inauthentic period details and sticks to the historical facts. You can’t buy that kind of verisimilitude.

Joseph Fiennes plays Shakespeare tolerably I suppose, though he holds the quill much too limply. Do you think that the man who wrote such memorable lines as ‘To be or not’ and ‘I want a horse’ held his quill as if it were a mere chicken drumstick? No. Shakespeare held on to that quill as if it were one of God’s own whiskers, frazzling with a thousand megavolts of hot lightning and channelling the furies of creation. He tugged that fucking quill like a champion and banged out a thousand masterpieces. He did not, Joseph Fiennes, hold it like an atrophied spanner.

The script is pretty good. There are a few choice Stoppardisms in there, such as when Affleck says ‘I’m in a play’, and then another character says ‘I’m reading from a script’. Before Stoppard was born, all characters laboured under the delusion that they were real people, and no one had the heart to tell them that they were not. Stoppard changed all that, though perhaps those were more innocent times.

All told, this isn’t bad movie. It seems to do Shakespeare justice. Yeah, I like it. Check it out.

Shallow Hal

April 10, 2010

Jack Black in Shallow Hal

Shallow Hal is a film about a nasty man who says horrible things about women. Here is a poem, copied and pasted directly from the script of the film in question. Needless to say I haven’t seen it (I copy and paste with my eyes closed).

All the feminine world

Is to me as a promenade of walking lard,

Of bipedded elephantine lump-legs

Of swinging bingo-wings

And quadruple chins.

When I think about these women defecating

I gasp.

What landslides of residue poot forth

From their levee-like buttocks

Clogging up the sewers and

Bringing a nation to its knees?

What slurries of destroyed dinners,

Of massacred million-course meals

Pass shamefully out of the back doors

Of these monstrous humongoloids

Like vicars who have outstayed their welcome,

Exceeded the original purpose of their visit,

And been sent unceremoniously on their way?

And then they pull up their hammock-knickers,

Waddle back to the biscuit tin

And begin again, pausing only to ask me

If I’d like a quickie in between Emmerdale and Coronation Street.

Nay, madam. Nay.

(On reflection, perhaps I’m being a bit harsh)