Tarantino to Never Direct Anything Again Shock!


Quentin Tarantino, yesterday



Tarantino is a film-maker of two halves. One half comes up with the dialogue from Django Unchained, and the other half is the dick who made Death Proof. One half came up with a tight hour and forty minutes of Reservoir Dogs, and the other came up with the sprawling shite bucket that was Hateful Eight. One half comes up with the Crazy 88 scene from Kill Bill 1, and the other half farts out the comedy action ending of Inglorious Bellends.

At the last press-fellate the bendy-faced twat took part in he said he was going to knock out two more films, one of which could possibly be a threequel to the Kill Bill junket, before retiring from slapping women around on celluloid to churning out books and working in theatre, which is probably a good thing considering how cak Hateful Eight was. His last had some good nuggets of dialogue, but mainly pootled about, lost for a plot, before churning out a twist so bollocks it had curly hairs hanging off it.

There’s no doubting the banana-faced dick has some talent, especially when it comes to knocking out dialogue, although his plots suck the cheesy helmet of tedium. If you ripped the yapping out of his films you’d end up with about five minutes of cars driving, people standing about in tableaus nicked wholesale from Takeshi Kitano, and some music. And let’s face it, it’s only through the quality of actors jizzing their sphincters off over the chance to chew on some meaty pieces of dialogue which makes these films worth watching. If you had Danny Fucking Dyer trying to galumph his way through Christoph Waltz’s dialogue in Django you’d be trying to dash your brains out against the cinema walls rather than listen to anymore of that shite.

Yes, he steals all his shots from other directors, but that never stopped people crawling up Martin Scorsese’s garden path for a look at his directorial winnets. Nicking other people’s work is a mainstay of cinema. One look at your average Brian DePalma film should show you that being a magpie is part and parcel of being a director. It’s not his directing style I have a problem with – it’s the fact that his films seem to be the sum of their parts rather than a whole entity which bores me. Good scenes wrapped around a shite story.

My main bugbear is with one film, though – Death Proof, which was shite all the way. B-Movies were dodgy films with bad stock and actors trying their best. Death Proof sets out to ape the style, and then stumbles at the first hurdle. Where did all this bloody dialogue come from? You should have an action scene every 10 minutes and then chuck in a bit of gore. Bosh – one B-movie. Tarantino misses the boat entirely. Don’t have your actors standing around talking, and then lob in a shit action scene at the end – that’s not a B-movie. That’s Tarantino having a wank.

I know slagging off Tarantino is sacrilege to many, but they can suck my balls. At least if he gives up films he won’t have any excuse to gob on his actresses (Uma Thurman in Kill Bill 1) or strangle them into unconsciousness (Dianne Kruger in Inglorious Bastards). The misogynistic little shit.


Eee, All Films Are Like Ruddy Music Vids These Days


man on the moon
An old film, yesterday



Aye, back in my days we didn’t have any of this Tim Burton shite or Michael Bay bollocks with big explosions or Goth bollocks invading the screen. None of that. We had proper films like Attack of the Killer Tomatoes or The Terror of Tiny Town. Films which actually said something. And when we ‘ad to sit through a four hour film like Ben Hur or Cleopatra we’d make it so ruddy boring you could get a decent kip in the cinema without being woken up by a giant robot blowing up or a dwarf punching the shit out of an orc.

It does amuse me when people bang on about how films were better back in the old days just because of the nostalgia value, when in reality a lot of them were shite. I recently bought The Parallax View – a conspiracy film with Warren Beatty – on the long distant memory that it was actually good, when in reality it was unbelievable bollocks. Saying that, it would probably go down well with the 9/11 inside-job lot these days, so go out and buy it if you’re a conspiracy nutter (along with Capricorn One if you think the moon landings were faked).

It’s true a lot of films hold up to the test of time, but a lot of them are over-inflated shite pushed by wankers hell-bent on staying infantilised so they never have to grow up, like all the Star Wars pricks who will insist it’s the best film they’ve ever got a lob-on too, just because they caught it when they were kids and have never quite grown up into watching Grown Up Films. Yes, Star Wars is fun, but some of these donkey balls have based a religion around it. “Oh, it’s just a bit of fun.” Not when some fucker I used to know – who was a massive helmet – actually built a shrine to the fucking film in his spare bedroom, and a legion of dickless arseholes are sending hate mail to Kelly Marie Tran because they’re racist dicks. Arseholes.

The current media blitz, where every twist and turn of a film can be revealed even before the bastard hits the screen/download/DVD (for the oldies) can be a turn off, and also pump up the nostalgia volume for them olden days when a twist was kept under wraps, but back when I was a kid the only film-related media you got was the odd programme on the Beeb with Bazzo Norman hating anything which wasn’t Oscar fodder and a couple of bollocks film mags with puff pieces in why so-and-so was such a great actor. Yes, you still get the bollocks mags, but there’s also a proliferation of alternative views and websites dedicated to little-known films both old and new.

The technology to make films was more limiting back then, as well. Yep, in the 60s and onwards people could knock out a story on 16 mil (and even 8 mil in some cases), but it still cost a fair old wodge to make anything worth watching. These days you can spunk out effects on your computer and every knob wants to act, so there’s more scope to at least have a try at creating, even if it’s shite. And for those who say there’s too much crap out there because everyone can squeeze out a feature, I say ‘be selective’.

In conclusion, to those who still whinge about the good old days of cinema I’d recommend sitting through an Al Adamson, Fred F. Sears or Michael Fucking Winner retrospective, because they were SHITE!

Exploitation, Ho!


What is this ‘Star Wars’ you speak of, hu-man?

Recently, on The Facefriend, there was a challenge to post 15 of your most influential films with a quote on a daily basis from a friend (thanks, Stephen), just as an example of the sort of thing that moved you, cinema wise, over the years. After about getting halfway through the process, I suddenly realised that 90% of the films I’d posted were exploitation or trash cinema. Just look at this awe-inspiring list

1: Starcrash
2: Good Night and Good Luck
3: Evil Dead 2
4: Scum
5: Solaris/Near Dark
6: Mad Max 2
7: Phantasm
8: Rambo 3
9: Hardboiled
And that’s only halfway through! The only film there which comes anywhere near to being artistic is Good Night, And Good Luck. A case could be made for Scum, but generally the rest of them – Phantasm, Mad Max 2, Evil Dead 2 – are straight up, balls to the wall exploitation, even if, Like Rambo 3, they’ve got stratospheric budgets.

There are plenty of other films I could have put. Maltese Falcon and Casablanca are incredible pieces of work. Citizen Kane is probably one of the best films I’ve ever seen. Ran by Kurosawa is a masterpiece. Tokyo Story reduced me to tears with its emotional simplicity. The Hourglass Sanatorium is an exotic mindfuck of a movie. Street of Crocodiles defies so much description I had to buy the book of short stories it was based on just to understand what the hell was going on! And don’t even get me started on Jodorowsky’s autobiographical films, which mix the bizarre and the surreal and the poetic into a blinding mish-mash of true art.

But did these films influence me? Did they, in my formative years and later on, have the sort of impact on me which propelled me to create or or fed my imagination? In some cases, yes, but as formative experiences, the exploitation nips them in the bud every time.

When I were a nipper back in’t olden days before all this ‘video’ and ‘DVD’ and ‘streaming’ malarkey, I used to spend hours on a Saturday morning staring through the locked glass doors of the local cinema because they had a ‘Phantasm’ cardboard stand of the poster in the lobby. That stand fed my mind. Angus Scrimm looking all scary. The notorious flying steel balls (ooer, obviously) I’d heard about which drilled through your skull and pumped all your blood out. There was also the clip I’d managed to catch on Film 79 with Bazzo Norman where Michael Baldwin chopped off Scrimm’s finger and stuck it in a box, only for the finger to turn into a bug and attack him and his brother. These ideas were insane! And I loved them.

Same thing with Mad Max 2. I’d caught an entire 3 minute clip on Film 82 (still with Bazzo Norman) of the compound being attacked and a punk with a pink Mohawk in a car getting fried by the defences, and that inspired me to write screeds of hideously awful Mad Max 2 rip-offs because my imagination went apeshit.

Rambo 3 was a different kettle of fish entirely. A film so gloriously over the top I immediately nabbed it on vid when it came out (even when it was truncated by the BBFC after the Michael Ryan shootings) and watched it endlessly. An insanely over-the-top, gloriously violent Boy’s Own adventure. Same thing with Evil Dead 2. Rampant insanity, watched to death on vid.

Good Night, And Good Luck sticks out like a sore thumb. This one had the effect on me of being just an incredibly mature piece of work. Most films aimed at the serious market can be painfully simplistic or have moments of mawkish sentimentality or, as in the case with All the President’s Men, have the structure of a thriller to keep the peeps watching. Not this one. It just represents the fight against McCarthy and the fear such paranoia can instil in society, which is obviously extremely relevant today. And David Strathairn puts in a remarkably powerful performance, which influenced me so much I stuck him on my header (there he is at the top of this page – look at that fackin’ steely determination!) as my inspiration (resulting in one friend telling me that wasn’t actually a picture of the REAL Edward R Murrow – thanks, Carl, I was aware of that).

So, exploitation or art – which one dominated my life. Both have their influences, but I took this Facefriend challenge as a nod to lay my film-soul bare and show what films actually influenced me or inspired me through the ages, as opposed to those who would post the art stuff just to show their friends how cultured they were, legitimate though their choices may be.


Movies of the Future by Zarquon Bumbag


This film could do with some robots!


Hola, earth creature from the past! My name is Zarquon Bumbag and I have come from the future to alert the poor bastards of yesteryear just how fantastic films are going to be in the future, and how shit they are now in comparison.

It is a well-known established fact that each generation believes the films that were being made when they were growing up were balls-hot when compared to the turgid blandness being churned out as they got older. Ask anyone who grew up in your ‘nineteen-seventies’ and they will tell you that ‘The Godfather’ and ‘Apocalypse Now’ make laughing stocks of films such as ‘There Will Be Blood’ and ‘No Country for Old Men’. What they do not appreciate is that those films are veritable yak’s piss when compared to the ‘cinema’ of the time where I come from, a mere thirty years into the future. And yes, they have silver space suits and flying cars on the moon by then.

As you may imagine, the Marvel and DC Universe has expanded and sucked in every film ever made, because that’s where the galacto-zlotys are, and so a remake of Porky’s 2: The Next Day features Antman and Deadpool having a game of pool in the background as Scrotey McNerdballs gets his trousers pulled down by Jock McBiffhead, just so they can say it’s part of the extended universe.

Remakes have also got better. Rather than try and cram teenagers into re-imaginings of films like The Fog and Valentine’s Day, we have basketball-playing dogs and talking cats instead, and before you say, “Facking hell, Zarquon, you huge-trousered warrior of the future, that sounds like a bit of a rum deal to me, and no mistaking!” I can assure you that the sight of Bonzo the Bouncing Hound slotting in a slam dunk whilst a cat dressed as Michael Myers nails Kevin Bacon’s ancestor to a door does unbelievable amounts to improve cinema as an art form.

“But, Zarquon, you massive-crotched warrior god of future sex,” I hear you ask, “what has happened to our auteurs, like our best beardy-chinned spods like Spielberg and Scorsese, who started out well but quite frankly have let themselves go a bit lately, artistically wise? Will they be cryogenically frozen to chuck out more bollocks like Lincoln and Shutter Island?”

Well, fear not, mortal hu-mans, for we have genetically combined the best beards of your generation – WHICH CLUES OUT WES ANDERSON, THE TALANTLESS SHIT, HA HA HA HA HA HA!! – to form one huge beard which will churn out emetic four hour Oscar worthy pieces about dead presidents with some interesting camera angles and fuck all enjoyment.

All films with an artistic bent will be fed through a machine we call ‘The Bay-O-Net’, which will transform them into box-office fodder with the random insertion of scenes with a giant robot punching a car chase against a background of explosions and shattering glass.

Blumhouse will release Get Out 2, but in this film it’s about a man shooing a dog off his porch.

So, do not fear, past human earth creatures, for the future of cinema is safe in our capable hands. (Disclaimer: A future films mentioned in this article may be shit).

Marvel Comix – The Next Level by Johnny Insider and Not a Publicity Man


All new superhero – The Amazing Mr. Buttockhead


Marvel currently have approximately 947 characters lined up for their next big bash – Justice League: Fuck My Old Trousers!, which is said to be the biggest film ever made, and has all the characters from their previous series PLUS a load of extras, including Removal Man, who has the power to move heavy cupboards whilst smoking a bent roll-up, Dinosaur Man, who has the power to watch Jurassic World a lot and not think it’s a pile of shite, and Ooh, Look Over There Man, with the uncanny power of distraction.

Here at Sortiaht Towers we’ve managed to gain exclusive documents which outline some of the new characters and plotline for the forthcoming film series.

Guardians of the Avengers
In this exciting entry into the series, the Guardians of the Galaxy and the Avengers team up and have a nice cup of tea, because Alan Bennett’s on the telly and he’s got some slyly caustic remarks to say about her next doors with two boyfriends. The Incredible Hulk does the washing up, leading to comedy japes when he traps his bollocks in the fridge door.

Captain America: Thick as Shit Patrol
Donald Trump fires all the Justice League regulars and instils his own brigade of crime fighting force, including Not Racist Man, who burns crosses on Black Panther’s doorstep, and No, Don’t Mind Me, I’ll Get the Hang of This Man, who tries to master opening and closing his front door. They team up against Evil Obama, and for some reason end up in a big orgy.

Thor’s Big Score
Thor counts to a hundred. This takes three hours.

Just some of the exciting new films lined up for the next phase of the Marvel universe. But what about the new heroes. After all, if they can get a series out of Ant Man and plan on chucking AquaFuckingMan into the mix, then surely they can flog anything? Well, be prepared to be proven right, with…

Arse Man: After plugging a leaking Chernobyl with his arse of truth, Johnny Fistwang has found his marmite motorway is capable of fighting crime through the art of mime. Not as interesting as it sounds.

The Amazing Testicles: A superhero with the ability to run faster than The Flash, The Amazing Testicles was so named not to infringe on DC copyright. Every now and then he will say “Blimey! My testicles are great” and then go back to running fast.

That Bloke Over There Man: That Bloke Over There Man reacts to some of the most ground-breaking action scenes by pointing off screen and going “Quick! Look Over There!” People do, and then he pushes them over and runs off.

The Invincible Squadron of Bastards: Sort of like Superman, but there’s a ton of them, and as well as wearing their pants outside their trousers they also wear bras.

Well, fuck me, what a bunch of fantastic characters and films coming up in the fantastically interminable series of superhero bollocks for the future. I know I’ll certainly be watching a lot more films with subtitles about yak herders staring at rivers, because if I see one more spandex suited knobend do the superhero land after jumping off something tall I’M GOING TO DO MY FUCKING NUT IN – excuse me, I mean, “I’ll certainly be first in the queue at the cinema!!”

Yo! Military! War films and big guns


Rambo wonders where the nearest hairdresser is


Cinema has always had a tumescent fascination with war and explosions and ‘n’ shit. And big guns. Lots of big guns. Especially when it comes to Predator.

Lately we’ve had a whole bunch of ‘true story’ films about square chinned Americans blowing the shit out of stuff, from 13 Strong to Sniper. Morally without conflict, the protagonists in these films know that anyone who doesn’t come from the USA is probably a terrorist, or knows a terrorist, or could possibly be a terrorist, so somebody with a weathered frown should be giving them a decent dose of lead poisoning with a Colt M14A1.

Which is no different from any of the shit they used to pump out in the eighties, like Missing In Action and Rambo 3. Part of the whole genre of war-porn is the flag waving. What’s the point showing a bunch of stereotypes swapping macho bullshit whilst tenderly cleaning their mighty weapons if they’re not fighting for a cause, no matter how bullshit the cause is? Even Black Hawk Down stuck to the big hairy chins of the guys On Our Side kicking the mighty bollocks off everything that moved, and that was one of the less jingoistic entries. The country, the message says, is what these people are fighting for. Rather than the myriad other reasons too complex for Hollywood to grasp.

After the second world war it was easy to spot who the enemy was – they were Nazzies. Always the Nazzies. And they were all fucking bastards, so Clint Eastwood was totally within his rights to bite the heads off as many of them as he possibly could. Then The Green Berets came along at the start of the Vietnam War, and things got a little tricky (not for John Wayne, obviously, because the bastard commies were out there waiting for a whuppin’, and if there’s one thing John Wayne hates, it’s commies). Now we’ve got a slew of Afghanistan and Iraq films, and they’re equally certain about who the bad guys are. They have beards and big guns, and everyone of them has a target on their forehead. This is morally bullshit, of course, but Hollywood has not yet developed the intellectual capability to deal with the realities of the issue. Or if they have, the audience just isn’t out there.

Incidentally, the Chinese released an action/war film ‘Wolf Warrior’ which got a lot of stick about being a propaganda pic for the Chinese government, which is true, but no different from any amount of bollocks Michael Bay shits out of his arse. All action films ARE propaganda films. That’s their very nature. They’re there to entertain with big explosions, lots of muscly, oiled men rubbing themselves up against M60s, and shit dialogue. If you can stick through the rampant machismo, sexism, xenophobia and barrels of crap then this is the genre for you. It would be nice to have a sub-section of action films which don’t pummel you in the balls with endless propaganda, but they’re few and far between.

I fucking hate jingoism, as my regular readers may have gathered. Jingoism is for dribbling bellends with the emotional complexity of a bag of crusty wank socks. However, I love action and war films, which puts me in the uncomfortable place of enjoying films like Rambo 3 for its comedy ‘Boys Own’ adventure, but hating the message they’re pushing. I should probably be a Renaissance poet, living with this dichotomy, but I don’t think any Renaissance poets enjoyed watching Chuck Norris punch out a bear.

Thingy Won a Gong! Oscars 2018


shiny coin
Look at the shiny coin, Oscar voters!


The main problem with this year’s Oscars is, I haven’t seen half of the ruddy films. Some of them because I didn’t want to (I’ve heard nothing but praise for Dunkirk and Darkest Hour, but I was never in the mood for trawling through WW2 nostalgia when they were at the flicks – more fool me), and some of them because I couldn’t get to the ruddy cinema to see them (Shape of Water and Bladerunner:2049, which I would have loved to have seen, but was too busy being interesting somewhere else (well, down the pub)). The only one I’ve seen is Get Out, and that was ruddy great.

The problem with the Oscars is, they only tend to value the films which came out recently, or which were critically lauded. Well, apart from Kong: Skull Island in the Visual Effects category. The thing is, the live action Ghost in the Shell was a massive pile of cak, but the visual effects blew my freakin’ mind. It should have AT LEAST got a nomination, even if the film sucked the big balls of destiny. But it didn’t. Critically slated (for obvious reasons), it was cast into the pit of Rubbish Film Hell, never to be seen again, despite the merits of its visual effects.

Here’s another thing. Coco won the best animated film award, but it’s re-tread of The Book of Life. Now, I haven’t seen Coco, and it could blow The Book of Life out of the water, but The Book of Life was an incredibly well put together film which wasn’t even nominated when it came out. Was it the Pixar sheen which gave Coco it’s respectability?

If you look at the list of nominees, it’s the same old films in the same old categories. There’s very little variation; very little kudos to the lower budget end of the spectrum (Get Out, aside), and even though there’s more diversity in the make-up of the nominees it still feels pretty un-diverse as regards the breadth of films released in the 2017/18 window.

I remember reading an article about how the people who vote for the Oscars are a pretty craggy old pile of rattling bones, and since their memory spans maybe limited to what log they laid in the toilet the previous night, it stands to reason that the only films which would stick in their memory were what they’d just seen the other day. Which is why it could be that Get Out had so little kudos in the final tally. It came out in January of last year. That’s far too long ago for your average Oscar-voting member to remember.

Where were the truly independent films? Moonlight may have won it last year, but now it was the time for the Big Budget Knobs to come out of the trousers of cinema and start waggling in the faces of voters, so the indies got shucked to the side and forgotten.

These things tend to go in loops. One year – nothing but Brit actors nominated. Next year – hey, it’s low budget time! In the end, the Oscars are a big clusterfuck of smarm. Everyone knows (well, me) that Oldman should have got the Oscar for Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, even if he literally skinned Churchill (who was eugenicist, let’s not forget) and wore the fucking like a Halloween suit. Copycatting is not Oscar worthy.

Not that it amounts to a pile of piss at the end of the day, as all of these films will end up on a 2 for 1 offer at HMV in a few months’ time. Ah, the fleeing nature of awards…