Thursday, 10 May 2012

The Avengers

Directed by Joss Whedon
Starring Fuckin everybody

A long time had been spent in anticipation of this film. I had waited for the DVD releases of Captain A, the Hulk, Thor, and did not drink my way through either of the Ironmans, much to my chagrin. When Downey and I hang out he still shakes his head at me in disappointment. And I try to tell it from my side, like:

Ben: No, but seriously it was a matinee and there were kids there and stuff.

Bob: So? Did having kids around ever stop Michael Jackson?

Ben: Yeah, fair point.

Hugely saddened was I to learn that movieboozer Martyn would not be attending this week’s session. I was happy to have guest moviegoer Cedric joining me, but he does not drink at the movies. He eats popcorn like a normal person.

I remained relatively sober for the screening of this film. Good thing too: not only did I still derive pleasure from the action sequences and appreciate how huge all of the actors looked, but I also understood The Avengers as the racist parable it clearly is.

Hollywood racism has essentially existed forever, in varying degrees of covertness. That is, until about 10 years ago when a couple of Kiwis decided to go pretty balls-out, Klantastic with the moviemaking. LOTR was a mess, back-to-front. Gandalf the White? Huh, what? All the orcs and Uruk-hai are dark-skinned, aren’t they? C’mon people, look at the elves. Just look at the fucking ELVES.


Where are the black elves at, eh? Hebrew Hammer and Bad Santa both had black elves with only about 5% the budget. Just give Will Smith, Danny Glover, and Tiny Lister some wigs and let them go to work. Best elf posse ever, I say.

Anyway, since 2001 it’s pretty much been open season for big studios to do whatever they want at the expense of whatever minority (except for the Jews, who nobody can fuck with anymore because we have Jon Stewart AND Krav Maga and we’ll break your shit off; seriously, test us). Because Joss Whedon is behind The Avengers and he’s a clever bigot a lot of the stuff in here is subtle and he figures it’ll just go below the radar and seep into moviegoer subconscious. Of course, he didn’t consider that I would be sober and when I’m sober I have superpowers too. Like seeing straight through all your racist bullshit, Joss Whedon.

Let me start by saying there’s only 1 (one) black person in this movie and he’s handicapped. That’s just rubbing salt in the wound. It’s a clear jab since Nick Fury is meant to be white but clearly some Marvel Studio exec was like: “Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if we added a black guy who had useless superpowers like having watermelons for hands??!!” And Joss Whedon was like: “No. You’re an idiot. But I’ll think of something else.” And then Joss Whedon decided “Ok, let’s just make that useless crippled guy black for no reason and, to add insult to injury, let’s force the most virile, respected, hard-working, and highest-grossing black actor in Hollywood to play him.” And behold, Sam Jackson was blind and useless. Seriously, if you remove him from the film: same outcome. That’s racist.

Has every reason to be an angry douche.
Loki is the villain in this film and you could make the argument that because he’s Asgardian it’s fair play. Only he isn’t Asgardian; he’s a Frost Giant. Folks discover this in Thor and guess what happens. Yeah, he gets exiled. This guy Loki is just standing around, minding his own business, when suddenly his own people are all up in his grill like: “Um, well, we know you’ve been here since infancy but as it turns out you’re not a white dude like the rest of us so we’re gonna have to deport your sorry blue ass.” And yeah, they actually FUCKING DEPORT HIM. That’s racist. No wonder he’s angry.

And then, really, this entire Avengers movie is about Loki crossing into Earth’s realm without a visa or any kind of official papers, reaping the fruits of American labour, and then getting all his buddies over the fence until we’re outnumbered. If Joss Whedon wants to make a 2-and-a-half-hour allegorical film about border issues he should at least have had the balls to cast Danny Trejo as Loki. Or that guy Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite.

Scar-Jo is Natasha Romanoff, a former Russian spy who has about six lines in the movie, three of which are: “I have red in my ledger. I need to get it out.” Get the Red out?! Duh, Soviets. Racist.

Those space creatures that try to destroy NYC at the end of the movie are clearly the fucking Chinese. They swoop down from the sky Red Dawn-style in huge numbers. They have superior technology, all look the same, and their boss monster… c’mon folks.





That’s racist.

The clincher, for me, is when Captain America gets worried that his star-spangled suit will be “a little old-fashioned” and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Phil Coulson reassures him that “people might just need a little old-fashioned.” Nice one. You know what else was old-fashioned? Slavery.


 SHAZZING! Schooled you, Whedon.

So what have we learned, in a nutshell, from The Avengers? Fuck immigrants, we deport them. Fuck the Soviets; we know the Cold War is over but they can eat shit. Fuck the Chinese too, for that matter. There’s too many of them and they have bad teeth. Fuck all blue people like Frost Giants and Smurfs and those tall dudes from Avatar. Because America needs to be protected from the forces of evil. Fuck yeah.

I feel like I saw this movie eight years ago. Only with puppets. Pretty sure Sam Jackson was in that one too, actually.

Damage: 1/10 (70 ml babička wormwood vodka)

Boozy rating: 1/10 (WTF Joss seriously)

Saturday, 5 May 2012

Lockout

Directed by James Mather and Stephen St. Leger
Starring Guy Pearce, Maggie Grace, Peter Stormare, and Lennie James

Fuck, man. So I was really exited about Boozy Wednesday’s triumphant return. Martyn finally had some gaps in his schedule. My liver finally had some gaps in its schedule. It was a Big Deal. So I’m looking at listings for 21 Jump Street and Cabin the the Woods and I come across this trailer online for a movie called Lockout that Luc Besson has produced.

And so of course I watch it and I’m like “Oh, okay” and go back to my Internet searching. Then about 10 seconds later I have a flash, like a mini-epiphany in my brain (the kind that happens when I let 2+ hours pass between vodka martinis) and I’m like “Wait, what?” And I watch the trailer a second time and it hits me.



Motherfuckin Guy Pearce IN SPACE. Dude. That’s like asking me if I want a hot fudge Sunday with extra hot fudge and Jack Daniel’s. Plus that whole bit where the voiceover goes all retarded like: “He’s the best there is… but he’s a loose cannon.” When I watched that bit it was as if the world froze and I had one of those surreal Matrix/Total Recall moments where there was a knock at the door and I opened and Luc Besson was there and Luc Besson said to me: “Ben. You need to see this movie and get drunk during it. It will make your life complete and your cock will stay fully erect for the rest of the month.” Seriously, I had VISIONS about this movie where Luc Besson was my spirit quest guide or whatever.

So last Wednesday I went out to see Lockout and embarked on what would become a 3-day drinking binge. You must understand, while a drinking binge for y’all guys constitutes happy hour a few nights in a row, a drinking binge for me constitutes not shitting solid for 4 straight days afterwards. For reals, I basically spent an entire weekend after this passing my stomach lining through my asshole. I paid hard for Lockout. And Lockout DID NOT hold up its end of the bargain.

Honestly, with a budget of $20 million and Guy Pearce AND Peter Stormare in your movie you should be able to accomplish anything. So it should be child’s play when your movie, at the core of it all, only needs to do three things:

  1. The President’s daughter (Maggie Grace) is hot and gets trapped on a space station prison 
  2. Guy Pearce goes to save her and has big muscles 
  3. Guy Pearce kills everything

Stealth mode when it should be full-on, rocking the shit mode.
The problem with this movie is that despite its batshit insane INSANE premise, it actually plays by the rules. Like, the actual rules. If you’re Guy Pearce and you’re alone with no backup on a space station floating in orbit you’re not gonna pull any crazy Bruce Willis yippie ki-yay motherfucker shit. Even if you have huge, turbopumped muscles. You’re going into stealth mode, running away from every confrontation quick as possible, and trying not to upset anyone. This is what any soldier worth his salt would do. This is what Guy Pearce does for the entire movie and does well.

Of course the problem with this MO is that it does not give me a huge boner. It just makes me sit back in the theatre with my dirty can of Stella and wonder “Holy shit what am I paying my taxes for?” Or, you know, whatever. It was Wednesday and I was feeling entitled to see Guy Pearce curbstomp space baddies. For $20 mil that’s not so much to ask, is it? C’mon Luc. You’re using all studio sets. You don’t have a single exterior shot in the entire movie. How much can a studio lot in Marseille cost you? Right, well, whatever you’re not spending on rent and 35mm film you spend on protein shakes, 12-gauge shotgun shells, and ass-kicking boots for Guy Pearce. C’mon Luc. You made Léon. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.

In fairness, there were a couple good moments in Lockout. Guy Pearce is really doing everything he can. Really. He’s naturally not a big dude and this script (for some reason) requires him to get his ass kicked A LOT and he takes it in stride. He has a few funny one-liners and one or two awesome kills. But if you can believe it, that one kill in the trailer where he dropkicks that guy into a huge turbine gets recut so the guy just falls in by accident. Huffing, I asked to speak to the Vue’s manager immediately but that conversation went nowhere because it sounded like this:

Ben: Fuckin… hey… manager!

Attendant: Yes, excuse me sir?

Ben: Hey buddy, get… get your manager please *burps* now like. This movie is baaaaaallls.

Attendant: Okay sir I can do this but that conversation will probably get you nowhere because you reek of booze and she’s now four months sober.


Ben: Fuck… seriously?

Attendant: Yes. She just got her 100-day medallion and everything.

Ben: Fuck… is she hot?

Attendant: Yes, but she likes women.

Ben: AMAZING!

After shouting this I decided to go back into the movie and then laughed for about 3 straight minutes when Guy Pearce punches a chick in the face unprovoked. Sure, folks looked at me funny but I had to convince myself that paying the price of entry was somehow worth it.

As a sidenote: I think management at the Vue is catching on to my scheme. For the first time last Wednesday I saw a huge licensed bouncer (armband and everything) standing in the aisle of the movie theatre the entire time. If I have to start rotating movie theatres and not being an obnoxious prick it’s going to be a huge buzzkill.

Damage: 5/10 (pre-movie: 1 pint Camden Ink, 210 ml Luksusowa Vodka on ice; during: 3 x 500 ml Stella Artois).

Boozy rating: 2/10 (I’m not saying I’m better than Luc Besson, but, like, give me $20 mil and see what happens. Just sayin.)

Next week: I’m torn between Safe, Cabin in the Woods, and American Pie: Reunion. Leave your votes as comments if you like.