Thursday, 30 October 2008

FILM REVIEW: Pride and Glory

UK Release date: 7 November 2008
Starring: Ed "Hulk" Norton, Colin "Feck" Farrell, Jon "Angie I love you all is forgiven just ask the spinach" Voight

Norton: So, what do you think?

Farrell: About what, feck?

Norton: My anger. Is it angry enough?

Farrell: What the feck're you talking about, y'fecking eedjit?

Norton: In the film poster. I'm going for serious angry. Not Hulk angry, that would be too much. But not broody angry either, like in 25th Hour. That wouldn't be enough. I'm looking for something a bit Primal Fear - y'know angry with a dash of crazy - and a bit American X. Misplaced righteous angry. D'you know what I'm saying Colin?

Farrell: Feck if I do, yeh? Feck.

Voight: Ed. Eeeeed. Ed. What is the matter Ed? Edddie. Edward. Eeeeed.

Farrell: Ye've got a great big wodge o'feckin spinach in there teeth there, boyo fiddle-de-dee. Feck.

Voight: I'm playing a vagrant off Broadway in two years. Getting started on research. Ignore it. Have you seen Angelina Jolie-Pitt by the way?

Oh yes I have and she is a feckin foine looking woman there, be'gads feck.

Voight: That's my estranged daughter you're drooling over buddy. Watch it. But yes, she is hot. And I love her dearly. Angie, if you can hear me baby all is forgiven!

Norton: Jon, do you think I've hit just the right anger notes on the Pride and Glory poster?

Voight: You have indeed. Any more angry and I'd have wet myself. Any less and I'd have punched you in the face for looking at me funny.

Norton: Good. That's good, wet yourself, that's a good balance, thanks.

Voight: What's this film about again?

Norton: You should know, you're in it.

Voight: Oh no, I don't read anyone else's lines and I have so few that I don't usually know what's going on in these roles.

Norton: Colin, do you know what it's about?

Farrell: Me? Feck me, no, fer feck's sake, I just do it fer the money and the fame and to keep meself in fags is all don't ye know fiddle-de-dee.

Norton: Great, so no-one knows what this stupid film's about. Now I'm really angry.

Voight: That's good. Go with that.

Norton: Is it? Great. Make-up! No, give me that, I'll do a better job...

Shatner rating: Denny Crane
Should I bother? Maybe. But it would have been better with Christopher Walken in the Voight role.

Wednesday, 29 October 2008


UK release: 2 November

Pig Hunt. The title is just so damned tantalising. Is it about a young woman's journey of self-discovery? Or a dying man's last wishes fulfilled? Perhaps a touching tale of a young boy as he tries to recover from the loss of a parent, possibly through the intercession of a wisecrackin' ole hog?

No. It's about pigs. And hunting. But Wait™ – because it's a horror-thriller-splatter-gore-fest and turnabout's fair play and Black Sheep kicked box office and DVD rental ass and no-one can resist bacon (not even those tree-hugging vegetarian lefty types)... dum dum daaaaaah - the pigs are the ones doing the killing! OMG that is soooooo awesome!

There are only a tiny handful of very important problems with this premise:

1/ Pigs have hooves, not hands. No opposable thumbs. Which means no clever manipulation of guns or other hand-held implements. Which means Victim #5 will never get to open that barn door only to find a massive hog with a striking resemblance to Travolta in Wild Hogs (shades, bandana, etc) standing upright and firing a double barrel shotgun. Which means this is not so much about pigs that hunt as pigs that attack in groups. Like a swarm. Maybe it should be called "Swarming Pig Death". Unless it's about a boar. Because they can be nasty. Is it about a boar? It is? Then shouldn't it be called "Boar Hunt"?

2/ Pigs don't speak, which means no pithy asides, eg "Hasta la vista, bacon". And that's a shame. Sarcastic pigs would have made for a great film.

3/ Statistically, "death by pig" is more about falling pigs or undercooked pork (which might possibly have even killed Mozart) than outright pig attack.

4/ No scary pig film will ever be a truly scary pig film because the only really scary pig film was Animal Farm, with those animated walking pigs. They were just freaky. (And remember: Four legs good, Two legs bad)

5/ Deliverance has already covered the hillbilly-and-their-pigs angle. No need to revisit it in any form.

But aside from all that, there is one truly tantalising possibility that lurks beneath the surface of this title: the reaction shot as our heros, revelling in their inevitable and inexorable victory over the invading horde of hog, tucks into a victory breakfast only to find that... dum dum daaaaaah! That's right: the bacon is in fact made of people. Pig Hunt Is People! Tasty Delicious Smoked People! Thinly Sliced and Pan Fried Until Crispy People!

Mmmm. Crispy people bacon. Now I'm hungry. Damn you, bacon!

PS: The tagline on the posters for this film is "Don't Be Scared!" Is that an instruction? Because it's dumb. Surely it should say, I don't know, something like "You'll be so scared you'll shit yourself and then try to hide in your shitty pants"? Or "Be really really scared! Of pigs! Killer pigs! Woooooooooooo!"? Just a thought.

Shatner rating: Denny Crane (I secretly want this film to be great)
Should I bother? No. Because it won't be great. It's about pigs.

MUSIC REVIEW: "Safe Trip Home" by Dido Florian Cloud de Bounevialle O'Malley Armstrong

Album: Safe Trip Home
Artist: Dido Florian Cloud de Bounevialle O'Malley Armstrong
Released: November

Statistically speaking, everybody in the UK owns three albums by Florian Cloud de Bounevialle O'Malley Armstrong (yes, that is Dido's birth name). Which means no-one has to buy another Dido album until she's released a fourth. This is her third. Save your money.

If you're a spineless puddle of a person and just have to buy this, then consider this quote from The Observer in 2001: "To be called one thing and christened another is actually very confusing and annoying. It's one of the most irritating things that my parents did to me. ...Florian is a German man's name. That's just mean. To give your child a whole lot of odd names. They were all so embarrassing. ...I thought it was cruel to call me Dido and then expect me to just deal with it."

See? She's annoying. Why do you want to encourage her?

Also, consider this: Dido's music is pretty much shit. Sure, all the ingredients are there - instruments, melodies, harmonies, backing vocals, contemporary production, partial nudity, innuendo-laden lyrics ("Safe trip home" indeed - might as well have called the thing "Felching") - but it doesn't add up to a tasty treat. Stale, predictable, bad aftertaste. Like a sausage roll you regret buying when you have a hangover.

The CD cover has an astronaut in space. I'm hoping it's Dido, left to drift slowly in low orbit until gravity draws her into the atmosphere and she explodes in a blaze of fire.

"Dido" is the name of the mythical Queen of Carthage. In Virgil's Aeniad, she kills herself for love. Here's hoping this Dido follows in her footsteps.

I don't really like Dido much. And I have a headache. So I'm probably not the best person to review Dido's new album. Oh well.

Shatner Rating: Quincy cameo
Worth a listen? No (though you're going to hear it anyway and mey end up owning a copy of the CD - it's like a law or something).

Friday, 24 October 2008


UK Film Release: 24 October
Starring: Tobin Bell (who is wasted, absolutely wasted by directors in every role he takes on - the man is a genius people) Scott Patterson (who was in The Gilmore Girls and frankly, could have done better than this).

Five Saws. Count them. That's only two less than the greatest film franchise in history, Police Academy.

In a NoShow exclusive, we can reveal that when Saw catches up with Police Academy and Saw 7: Mission to Moscow is finally released, only then will the true mystery behind the muderous Jigsaw be revealed. The makers tell us there'll be a crossover film in which the insane yet inventive killer will teach Hightower, Mahoney, Lassard, Hooks and Dr Monseignor Larvelle Jones (the guy who does the annoying noises but who no one will admit is the funniest person in the world) that their lives have been worthless by putting them through sadistic, gore-filled ordeals that will result in major organs being lost.

The tagline for Saw V is "You Won't Believe How It Ends". Well, let me hazard a guess... is it a twist? Like Planet of the Apes being Earth, or Soylent Green being people or Hightower getting Lassard strung out on smack, murdering Mahoney and framing Hooks in Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol: The Unseen edition. SPOILER ALERT!! Damn, too late again. Forgive me. Oh yeah, Maggie Gyllenhall's character in The Dark Knight dies... SPOILER ALERT... DAMN DAMN.

The director, writer, key grip and craft services for Saw V should hang their heads in shame. Not because this is obviously a franchise way past its sell-by date (the main character is DEAD, for the love of god... SPOILER ALERT...), nor because it's a reprehensible slab of pointless gore attempting to say something about the human condition and the nature of revenge, nor because the lead actor is Costas Mandylor, a man who last worked as Samo Hung's sidekick in Martial Law - that's Samo Hung who is a brilliant if tubby martial artist but has no ability to speak the English language, nor even because the inventive death scenes are becoming less and less inventive (there has not been one anally fatal scene yet).

No, quite simply, shame falls on this tawdry series because there has been no Guttenberg. Ban this filth... until they get The Guttenberg.

Shatner scale: Quincy cameo
Must see: No (until they get Guttenberg... then yes)

Thursday, 23 October 2008

The UK Premiere of W.

Broadcasting not at all live from the Red Carpet in The London's West End of London, we bring you speculative coverage of the star studded UK premiere of Oliver Stone's Political Hot Potato™, W. (As we are blogging about this in real time from a location nowhere near the premiere, we apologise in advance is the verb tense becomes slightly complex and multilayered towards the end of this (p)review.)

The star studded UK premiere of Oliver Stone's Astonishing Political Megadrama™ W. looks set to have been a stellar affair filled with starry studs of astrological proportions, and will have been no doubt be a galactically significant event in the minds of the sad bastards who gathered around the slightly damp off-red carpet in The London's World Famous Leicester Square (next to the Angus Bar and Grill).

Celebrity stalkers will have been out in force, jostling for space alongside paparazzos, "street performers" and the enthusiastic homeless, as they watch the hot celebrity stars arrive, studded and ready for action.

"Who the hell are you?" they'll no doubt have been shouting as Josh Brolin (son of the much famouser actor James Brolin and stepson to Barbara Streisand, which is pretty weird, no matter how you look at it) arrives.

"Where's the moustache?" they'll be have been are being shouting, as they realise that Josh Brolin's moustache - which made such a hairy splash in No Country for Old Men, American Gangster and The Valley of Elah - will have are not being attending this studded, starred and stud starred affair.

"Get off the carpet, y'fat bastard!" the crowds will no doubt have are been screaming as Oliver Stone pours out of the rented limo under the bright lights and grey drizzly skies of That London, with an apologetic "I just made it up as I went along" shrug.

"We love you, Lisa Bonet!" they'll chant as Thandie Newton runs under cover of many, many umbrellas for the nearest entrance, for fear of drowning under any larger than average droplets, only to slip down a drain en route, such is her startling thinness and delicate nature as an actress.

"Give me some change or I'll take off my pants!" Gary the Homeless was will have possibly may have been and still could possibly be shouting throughout.

In all, it will have been a studded starry gathering of studly stars, overshadowed only slightly by the current economic crisis, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, global warming and the truly pathetic state of television today (all of which, let's face it, are totally George W Bush's fault).

The film itself will include stunning star studded turns of actorly impressionism, so much so that many in the audience will scream like small children as their feeble brains try to understand how Oliver Stone managed to get cameras into the freaking White House to film all those scenes, man. And when it's all over, they will have been are filing/filed out of the cinema in Leicester Square in London's Magnificent Leicester Square, next to the Leicester Square Tube station and Angus Bar and Grill, in stunned, studded, shocked and starry silence. And it will are might have maybe been good.

Shatner Rating: Denny Crane
Worth a listen? Sure why not? At least it'll make Obama's win all the more sweet...

Wednesday, 22 October 2008


UK Release: 24 October
Starring David Brent, David Duchnovny's ex-wife and Greg "David" Kinnear

It's The Others meets the Extras. It's The Sixth Sense meets The Office. It's Poltergeist meets that really genuinely god-awful, nadir of Simpsons episodes that David Brent wrote without Stephen Merchant.

In Ghost Town, directed by the executive producer of Curb Your Enthusiasm, portly funnyman David Brent plays a dentist who sees dead people and has to help them overcome their problems. One of the dead people is ex-chat show host and current holder of the Guiness World Record for "having the most charisma in the world ever", Greg Kinnear.

Greg wants Dentist David to stop his widow, played by the woman who now puts the Ex in X-Files, Tea (pronounced T-E-ARGGHHH - Not tea, as in "I could do with a cup of...") Leoni from marrying someone else. Brent attempts to do this with his usual battery of inappropriate remarks and hopefully, that funny dance he did.

David Brent is quoted as saying: "I turned down a load of parts in Hollywood films until this because it had the best script."

Did he mean the "best" in terms of "neatest hand-writing"? Or most notes saying, "We love The Office, even though Extras kinda spoiled it by not being very good and the American Office is actually funnier and has been running for about 500 episodes"? Because in terms of laughs per minute... well, if it was a 15-second commercial, it'd be up there with Airplane. But at 102 minutes, there is always the possibility that it may be 101 minutes and about 45 seconds too long.

And for the record, is there a law that says Greg Kinnear has to be every film ever? Or is Greg Kinnear actually like god? Perhaps he's omnipresent and therefore he can't help being in everything. Beware, next time you go to the laundrette or feel the need for some quiet self-love, Greg Kinnear may be there. Silently, tearfully, charismatically watching. In much the same way you'll watch Ghost Town - tearfully, silently, charismatically.

Shatner scale:
Miss Congeniality
Must see: Maybe

ALBUM REVIEW: The Katie Melua Collection by Katie Melua

Everyone knows what Katie Melua sounds like. (And for those who don't, she sounds like the stuff you can't quite hear bleating over the speakers as you walk through a Wal-Mart. Or Harrods. Or Saks Fifth Avenue.) So instead of reviewing "The Katie Melua Collection" by Katie Melua, here are some important facts about Katie Melua, as gleaned from seven-and-a-half-minutes of stringent online research:

• "The Katie Melua Collection" by Katie Melua may not be a greatest hits package and may in fact be a plea for donations to help Katie Melua afford an operation that will make her tall enough to sit at the grown-ups' table at Christmas.
• Katie Melua is as small as a human can be without actually qualifying as a dwarf or a child, based on any known system of measurement.
• No-one can actually name one of Katie Melua's songs (actual titles – mumbling something about "feeling 21 but acting 17" doesn't count)
• Katie Melua can be classified as a "Type 6" on the Bristol Stool Chart (pictured above): "fluffy pieces with ragged edges, a mushy stool"
• Katie Melua is not Norah Jones.
• Katie Malua does not believe in marriage (though her views on Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny can not be confirmed).
• Statistically speaking, every person in the UK owns a copy of a Katie Melua CD, possibly stuck to the back of one of Dido's albums.
• Katie Melua was once swallowed whole by Chuck Norris, though she was later able to gnaw her way out through his bellybotton (Chuck Norris didn't notice at the time, though he wasn't happy about the rip in his shirt, which he discovered later that day. He also had to swallow Dido whole to stop his tummy rumbling before a roundhouse kick workout.)

Shatner Rating: Miss Congeniality
Worth a listen? No (though you're going to hear some of it anyway).

ALBUM REVIEW: Funhouse by Pink

Album: Funhouse
Artist: Pink
Released 27 October

When you think of a funhouse, do you think of lazy summer days spent at the seaside, enjoying clever tricks of light, distorted mirrors and wonky floors? Or do you think of a pig-faced, tattooed, pre-op transsexual whose faux-rebellious squawkings makes Lou Ferrigno with laryngitis sound like Maria Callas and who hasn't changed her outfit since she rode the coattails of her fellow squawkers in that godawful cover of "Lady Marmalade"?

If you do, then Pink is the second rate karaoke screamer for you. She'll get the party started and then she spend the rest of evening crying in the toilet because she's drunk too much Pernod and doesn't understand why no-one knows the real her. But the sad fact is YOU - that's right, YOU - will be the sorry excuse for a human being who wakes up next to her vomit-flecked porcine features after a half-forgotten night of fumbling and frottage. And you'll be humming "Lady Marmalade" when you do, you sad bastard.

Lumpy beats stolen from a game of Asteroids, "I'm a woman, don't mess with me" ranting mixed with painful ballads about how her man is banging her best friend, and some sub-Roxette guitar solos are slung together to turn Pink's Funhouse (Christ, what a revolting, not to mention smelly thought) into the kind of album that makes cats eat themselves.

Why can't she just marry Kermit, have some mutant pig-frog kids and leave us alone?

Shatner scale: Quincy cameo
Must hear: No

BOOK REVIEW: Open-handed by Chris Binchy

Published by: Penguin
Released: October

Judo. The art of fighting. Much like the art of great writing, it involves struggling, sweating, grappling with your muse and ripping the clothes off other men. Chris Binchy's new novel Open-handed is the latest bestseller since his last bestseller and adds yet another bestseller to his personal list of bestsellers.

The title alone conjures up more images than a free porn site. But what is "Open-handed" trying to tell us? Is Binchy saying that a hand should always be open? Or that openness should be delivered by hand - like a cheese plate. This captivating tome sets out to answer these life-changing questions in several thousand words. And the answers may not be the ones you want.

Open-handed is a must-read unless you a dictionary, in which case you could just randomly read that and eventually you'd read this and pretty much all other novels (except for this not using the Cyrillic alphabet or those written in Esperanto), if you get the words in the right order.

In these financially-troubled times, what's it to be? Open-handed or monkey-typewriter? Not my call. Yours.

Shatner scale:
Denny Crane
Must read? Yes (unless you have a dictionary)

Cover image: Penguin Books

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

London Film Festival Special:

UK Release:
23 October (London Film Festival)

Bees. Filthy beggars. Disgusting. With their degrading little secret lives, drifting from flower to flower, getting sprayed all over with pollen, rolling around in it, then traipsing back to the hive and dragging it in with them like it was nothing.

And then there's the Queen bee, whoring around with lover after lover, spreading little bee bastards wherever she decides to whore around next, her tacky little hairs glazed under the weight of sticky honey as it drips from each and every honeycomb. Right in front of her children! And with her children! Incest and sticky mess and pollen and indiscriminate sex between who and whatever happens to be available... it's shocking. Simply shocking.

The Secret Life of Bees no doubt takes all of this lasciviousness in its stride, bring full frontal hardcore bee pron to the big screen for all to see. IT SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED! Especially in our cinemas, those bastions of common decency and civility.

Whatever you do, do not go to the cinema to encourage this worst kind of lowest common denominator film-making. It's indecent. It's degrading. And it's cheaper to wait until it comes out on DVD and you can watch it in the privacy of your own basement, wearing that extra fuzzy felt bee suit you had made special. You know, the one with the extra long stinger? You look good in that. Oh yes you do.

Shatner rating: Quincy Cameo
Must See? No
(unless that kind of thing gets your rocks off in which case, y'know go for it but keep it to yourself unless you can send me a copy in the post... shhhh don't tell anyone okthxbye)

Photo by Ragesoss, licensed under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License

FILM REVIEW: Quantum of Solace

UK Release: 31 October
Starring: Some Scouse actor with freshly six-packed abs and tighty whities, some forgettable model who will spend the rest of her career with "Bong Girl" preceding her name and Dame Judy "Dame Judy" Dench.

"Quantum", as you'll remember from your GCSE Latin, is Spanish for "Little Mexican" while "Solace" is that feeling you get just before surfing for online porn and just after deleting your online history around seven minutes later, a kind of empty excitement, much like every single Bond film ever made. It also rhymes with "soul-ass".

So it's safe to assume that Quantum of Solace follows the heartfelt story of a sad masturbating Mexican as he tries to take over the world, only to be defeated by James Bond played by yet another mediocre actor in a film franchise with just slightly more credibility that the Police Academy series. (Note to the Broccoli clan: Steve Guttenberg woud make an awesome Bond. Awesome.)

Cointreau of Snodgrass is the 723rd product in the Bond line, which began when Ian Fleming launched his failed glue stick and spreadable condiment line, Bond Jams Bond, back in 1955. Since then, James Bond has become as familiar as crabs and as comfortable as a stale olive.

Country of Soul-ass drags James Bond into the spotlight yet again, as he picks up from where the very long baccarat game in Casino Royale left off. It is safe to assume the following: James Bond James will say "Bond James Bond" at least once; he will be up against someone mean and fairly self-deceptive - someone with major "issues"; James Bond James will have sex with at least one woman if not more (and flirt with at least one man); vehicles will be used as weapons following extensive chase scenes (but not as cool as in Die Hard 4 - he killed a helicopter with a car dude, c'mon); James Bond James will be captured and escape (possibly with the help of a woman or the man who mistook the earlier flirting and will go on to become very depressed because he didn't get any hot Bond action); James Bond James will win the day. And it will be long and fairly boring, interrupted by car/aeroplane/boat chases (I'm hoping for a high-speed tricyle showdown, myself). And an inappropriate environmental message.

James Bond James? Who gives a crap who, more like. Apart from the sexy Dench wench, why would anyone waste time and effort with this endlessly repetative rubbish? And with no Steve Guttenberg in sight, what's the point?

Shatner rating: Quincy Cameo
Must See? No

Monday, 20 October 2008

Book Review: CLIFFHANGER by TJ Middleton

Published by : Picador
Released: October

Don't call a book "Cliffhanger" because everyone knows what will happen. It's either set on a cliff, it's a very very delayed tie-in novel for the fabulous Sylvester Stallone mountain heist cinematic diamond or it has a suspenseful twist. Like Bruce Willis being dead in The Sixth Sense, or Kevin Spacey being Keyser Soze or Aliens being killed by water in Signs or the trees happening in The Happening. Or indeed all M Night Shyamalan films. SPOILER ALERT! Sorry, too late again. (Oddly all his films are like masturbating when very very drunk. You know that eventually something may happen at the very end but it's not worth the effort and you feel cheap and guilty afterwards.)

TJ is obviously going for the 'we-like-authors-with-initials' crowd. A crowd that served JK Rowling, TS Eliot and SP Parker so well. And made JRR Tolkien the UK's favourite all time author everrrr. With his Shatner-tinged initials (TJ Hooker - great show) and nod to Sylvester Stallone, Mr Middleton has crafted a thriller that may not win the Booker Prize but it could be the most riveting and nailbiting piece of fiction this month. Stick that on your book jacket, TJ. I know I will. Because I write my quotes on book jackets.

Shatner rating: Hooker (obviously)
Must read: Yes!

Friday, 17 October 2008


UK Release date: 17 October

Burn After Reading
, the new film from The Coen Brothers, is a new film by The Coen Brothers, aka "The Two-Headed Director", aka The Coen Brothers, aka Joel and Ethan Coen. Coen. Brothers.

The plot (as gleaned from a number of expert sources), seems to revolve around the instructions implied in the title. Hence: a book, fire and bringing the two together like hot steamy literate lovers. Possibly due to the Terms & Conditions involved in buying said book. Or because it's shit.

The film is probably not about Hitler or Sarah Palin. Hitler wouldn't bother actually reading a book, he'd get one of his nazi henchpersons to burn it for him. They might have read it, but that would just be a coincidence. And they'd probably keep that information to themselves. Nazis weren't big on sharing.

Palin would probably try to get a local librarian to burn it. Or ban it. Or both. One followed by the other. (Epic FAIL.)

Burn After Reading stars The Brad Pitt's hair, a slick pompadour that reaches skyward. It makes Pitt look both funny and stupid. But that may just be his face.

"Who needs to learn lines, emote or connect with viewers on an emotional level?" The Brad Pitt seems to be crying out to the viewer. "Look at my hair! It's wacky. Now excuse me while I phone this in."

The film ads also feature George Clooney who has thus far avoided the lucrative and job-securing hair acting path, with the exception of O Brother Where Art Thou – also a Coen Brothers film by the Brothers Coens.

This makes three Coens Brothers films for Clooney, which is some kind of record for an actor not necessarily sleeping with one of the Coen Brothers by the Coen Brothers (I'm looking at you, Steve Buscemi.)

George Clooney has also appeared in 11 episodes of Roseanne, 17 episodes of The Facts of Life and one episode of Friends. As did Brad Pitt. Since they are both in this film and I liked The Facts of Life, this has to be a good film. Plus: it offers practical advice – burning a book while reading it would hurt.

Shatner rating: Denny Crane
Must See? Yes

Film Review: Eagle Eye

Release date: October 17 2008
Starring: Shia LaBeouf, Michelle Monaghan, Rosario Dawson

Not the life story of Neneh Cherry's one-hit wonder brother nor a nature documentary about monovisual avian marauders (my new band's name), Eagle Eye is another in a long series of pretty-people-run-away-from-exploding-things-while-big-metal-things-buzz-overhead-and-character-actors-slum-it-while-talking-menacingly-into-product-placements-and-bald-vegan-techno-geeks-provide-the-soundtrack.

Replacing Matt Damon (cue Team America voice now) who would normally star in these things, is Shia LeBeouf. Roughly translated, his name means "Shy of the Beef" - which apparently, he isn't, being a fan of cows and bodybuilders who translate him roughly.

Accompanied by a pretty girl (played by a pretty girl) The Beef runs, ducks, jumps and shouts things like "What do you want from me?" and "What the hell is going on?" at regular intervals until he finds out the answers to those questions. Once he finds out the answers to those questions, the film ends. Billy Bob Thornton also appears as a tough Southern-inflected CIA/FBI/NAMBLA member who wants Shy of the Beef's "ass on a plate". Hence the NAMBLA membership.

Directed with all the verve of the Verve and the panache of Panache (a cheap seventies perfume that smelt like a MILF's undercarriage mixed with Toilet Duck) by DJ Caruso (possible relation of David Caruso, the scowling ginger pug star of Jade whose glowering presence in CSI-Daytona and NYPD Blue Hawaii make most normal people turn off their TVs and put their heads in hot, hot ovens), Eagle Eye is a film for people whose eyes need to move quickly and who want to see Shy of the Beef use a phone or ask open-ended questions.

Shatner rating: Miss Congeniality
Must See? Maybe

Thursday, 16 October 2008

The No Show Shatner Rating System

Most cultural critics give a star rating. However, we at The No Show rate our cultural artifacts on a much more demanding level – the Shatner Scale. Roughly speaking, this calibrates as follows:

Kirk = *****
Hooker = ****
Denny Crane = ***
The part he played in Miss Congeniality = **
A cameo in Quincy = *
(or ********* if you really liked Quincy and Star Trek)

For the unforgivable heathens not au fait with The Shat's career, we suggest you get up to date, but in the meantime we also provide a simple three point guide to accompany The Shatner Scale.

Yes: Means you should, see, read, listen to or do it.
No: Means you shouldn't see, read, listen to or do it.
Maybe: Means you should make your own bloody mind up. What are we, your mother? No, if you've found this site, it means you've managed to surf away from and have the ability to understand quality. And it just means Maybe.

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Welcome, lazy bastards!

This is The No Show, the website that gives you all the information you need so that you don't have to bother queuing to see that new film or buy that new CD or get into that art gallery exhibition (not the free bit because there's never any queues for that, only the expensive exhibitions they bring in every once in a while and that might be cool but, seriously, d'you want to pay £11.95 to see a bit of paper that was stuck to another bit if paper back in 1967?) or buy that latest hardback.

Ok, no-one does that except sad bastards who wait until midnight outside Waterstones with the wizard's hat their "dad" made for them so they can cram into the shop and pay above the odds (instead of going to Morrisons a day later and paying less than half price) and then stay up aaaaallllllll night reading so they can be one of the first several thousand sad bastards to finish reading a ridiculously popular book about a young wizard (whose author doesn't need any more promotion or money thank you very much), JUST IN CASE they happen to stumble across a spoiler on one of the endless fansites they trawl which in the end they end up posting anyway just to show how cool they think they are because they knew that Dumbledore died before anyone else did oh dear did I say that SPOILER ALERT!!! too late.

Anyway, here at The No Show, we make you this promise: we haven't seen, heard, read or... seen, I guess, any of the films, music, books or art that we review here. Which makes our opinion as valid as yours and frankly, we're much better at this sort of thing than you.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE: we want you to contribute your own reviews. Because we love you and, more specifically, because we're lazy and have day jobs that keep us pretty busy most of the time. Feel free to add your reviews in the comments and if they're good enough, we'll post them up as well. If they're not, we'll probably taunt you. A bit.

Save your pennies in these depressing times and prepare yourself for some of the least informed reviews you've ever read.

PS: Dumbledore was totally gay too. Before he died and came back to haunt Harry Potter. That's right, Dumbledore was hot for the hairless Harry. There, I said it. Deal with it.