Friday, 11 December 2009

INTERVIEW: James Cameron, Emperor of Everything

An exclusive interview with James Cameron, Emperor of Everything on his latest James Cameron Epic Motion Picture™: AVATAR

Now that the James Cameron Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar has taken over as the Greatest James Cameron Epic Motion Picture™ Ever Made and James Cameron himself has been crowned Emperor of Everything, it's only fitting that The No Show track him down and ask him the hard hitting questions that everyone is too scared to ask for fear that he will crush them with his withering stares and his personal army of Terminators (they're totally real by the way).


The No Show:

So James - may I call you James?

The Disembodied Voice of James Cameron, Emperor of Everything:
You may refer to me as James Cameron, Emperor of Everything.

The No Show:
I'm sorry...?

Please refer to me by my given name, James Cameron, Emperor of Everything.

The No Show:
That's going to eat into a lot of our interview time.

Don't worry your pretty little head about it. After all, I'm a Master of Time and Space.

The No Show:
Master of Time?

And Space, yes. All Canadians are, but they're too polite to really use the skill. Those that do become incredibly successful for almost no reason whatsoever, of course. Think about it: Jim Carrey, Mike Myers, Alanis Morissette - what have they done to deserve their success?

The No Show:
That does explain a lot.

Absolutely. Just look at my previous Epic Motion Picture™ Titanic - that flew by for millions of viewers around the world, right? And yet it clocked in at an epic 19 hours long. No-one even noticed because I squeezed it into a paltry three hours and 17 minutes.

The No Show:
It still felt pretty long.

So if we're running short on time, I'll bend time and space to make sure you get in all your questions. So long as I approve of the questions. Otherwise, I'll rewind time and refuse this interview. And then make sure you achieve none of your lifelong ambitions. I will also un-invent the internet if you bug me. Just to make sure.

In fact, if you do, say or suggest anything of which I do not approve, in addition to killing every pet you have ever owned, I will travel back to your early twenties and sleep with your first serious girlfriend, little... [loud electrical disturbance] Mary McGoogle. My she was a hottie wasn't she?

The No Show:

[loud electrical disturbance] Oh yes she was. I just went back and did her anyway. Twice. Just to show you I mean business. You should call her up and ask her. She probably wouldn't take your call though. Once you go Disembodied Master of Space and Time, you never go back, as they say. On the bright side, you'll find you have now never had crabs. You're welcome.

The No Show:
So, your film, Avatar, has been breaking records all over the place -

Do you mean my Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar?

The No Show:
Yes, the film -

- my Epic Motion Picture™ -

The No Show:
- Avatar has done major box office -

My Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar is has been are doing precisely the box office I am are making it do. Done. Sorry, tenses get a bit squiffy with time travel.

The No Show:
Did your plans include being knocked off the top spot in the US by Dear John, by all accounts a soppy romance with virtually no story and no big Hollywood names?

Yes. This was exactly as I made it happen. My Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar beat the record box office run established by my previous Epic Motion Picture™ Titanic, and my next Epic Motion Picture™ will beat my current Epic Motion Picture™ and so on and so forth. It's a long-term strategy.

The No Show:
And you made this happen...?

Absolutely. I manipulated time and space, went back and forth, checked out the films that were due to be released around this time and chose Dear John, which was the least threatening.

Then, late at night while everybody was sleeping, I crept into their rooms and whispered, "You will go see Dear John this weekend. You will go see Dear John this weekend. This will not affect your unquestioning devotion to James Cameron's Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar." Lo and behold, my Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar drops to second place. And this way, no-one even noticed that my Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar had virtually no story.

As for the Epic box office performance of my Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar, well, what can I say? I've always done well with sequels.

The No Show:

Well, technically my Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar is the fourteenth in a series.

The No Show:
But Avatar -

- my Epic Motion Picture™ Avatar -

The No Show:
Whatever, it wasn't a sequel.

Of course it was, the first one bombed, don't you remember? Then I did all those test screenings, made the Na'vi skinny and half-naked, gave the female ones pert little Shakira-like breasts and - oh no, of course you don't. Silly me, always forgetting these things. Interesting story: in fact, this is the fourteenth release of the film, you just don't remember them. I kept going back in time, simplifying the story, making it more familiar and comfortable for audiences and adding more partial nudity and explosions and special effects until BAM, I had a multi-million dollar hit on my hands. Simples.

The No Show:
Is that why the film -

- Epic Motion Picture™ -

The No Show:
- has been described as a mix between Pocahontas, The Dark Crystal and the Smurfs, but for adults?

[loud electrical disturbance]
... I'm sorry, what were you saying?

The No Show:
... Hm, that's funny, I don't remember.

That's fine. You were asking how it feels to have created what many are calling the most Epic cinematic experience since my last Epic Motion Picture™ Titanic.

The No Show:
Was I? I don't recall...

No problem. It feels great.

The No Show:
Um OK, thanks for taking the time to speak with us.

My pleasure. And remember: my next Epic Motion Picture™, The Little Mermaid, comes out next year. And it will be in 4D, a technology I haven't even invented yet, but I'm confident I'll be able to borrow from somewhere in time and claim as my own with a few very minor tweaks.

The No Show:
The Little Mermaid? You mean like the Disney –

[loud electrical disturbance]
... I'm sorry, what were you saying?

The No Show:
Um, sorry, I've lost my train of thought. In any case, we've run out of time, so I'll just say thanks to the Disembodied Voice of James Cameron, Emperor of Everything, and we look forward to what I'm sure will have been your next biggest Epic Motion Picture™ ever.

Now you're getting it.

The No Show:
By the way, I loved Citizen Kane.

Thanks. I was particularly proud of that one.

Tuesday, 10 November 2009


UK release date: 13 November 2009
Starring: John Cusack and a bunch of other people we're going to assume are just paying the bills

It's a film. Called "2012". I totally haven't seen it. As usual. And since the posters don't have any amateur athletes getting blown away by some evil terrorist organisation that's totally trying to get rid of major global sporting events forever, I'm guessing this isn't some Olympics-based mega-action thriller.

That only leaves one option. Time travel. And that sucks.

Why? Because if you're going to spend all that time and money to build a freaking time machine, if you're going to give up any chance you might have had to hook up with that hot girl who lives next door that you've always secretly wanted to lick just to see what hotness tastes like, if you're going to absolutely guarantee that you will never get that big career break that you always wanted but that was being held up by an ancient co-worker who just refuses to die or retire, and you do all that to create a machine that could take you ANYWHERE or ANYWHEN, then why in the name of all that is horny would you go to 2012?

Dude, that's like TWO YEARS from now.

Why not go back 43 minutes? That's what I'd do. Just so I could avoid getting on to that lift and letting rip with that very evil and very ripe one I just couldn't hold in. (I swear it wasn't intentional. Honestly. Even I thought it was nasty and I kind of like my own stink so I can only imagine how horrifying it must have been for the seven other people stuck in there with me.)

Or maybe I'd go back to last night when I ordered that curry in the first place, so I could change my mind, maybe get something healthy instead of something that turned me into a freaking leaky toxic dump of olfactory death.

Or better yet, I'd jump forward by about 100 years, when I'm pretty sure that everyone that was with me on that lift would be good and dead and any trace of the smell from that lift would be long gone (or at least so faint that you'd only really smell it if you found the lift, buried your face deep into the fabric covering the floor and took a deep sniff).

But two years? That thing would still be lingering in the lobby of the building, looking for someone else to disgust.

Sure, Doc Brown only sent Einstein ahead in time by one minute, but that was just a test. Plus, it was a dog. And the dog didn't even realise what had happened. And then Marty McFly and Doc Brown were all like 'Hey, we need to go back in time and then forward in time and then back again' and generally all over the joint in those three films. Sometimes they were even in the same place and time as their earlier selves who didn't even know they were there. Which is, like, WHOA. And we don't even know how many times the dudes jumped when the cameras weren't rolling. Plus they rebuilt the stupid DeLorean as an awesome train. Now that is time travel.

Jesus, even Bill and Ted went all over the place. And picked up passengers. And their time machine was held together with freaking chewing gum. And they were idiots. I mean come ON.

And what about Bruce Willis? Dude wasn't even in charge of his time travel and he moved around way more, hell he even managed to get shot in one time, have his picture taken there and then have the bullet removed in another time and made damned sure his hot girlfriend totally saw the awesome photograph form World War I. Yes, yes, he totally screwed the whole "stop the plague" thing from happening because he got all caught up in a monkey thing, but who wouldn't, am I right? It was MONKEYS. And he was pretty shook up. From the time travel. Totally forgivable.

Anyway, not impressed, 2012 time travelling film-making dudes. Not impressed.

But at least we can all learn something: if you're thinking about jumping around in time, try jumping at least 30 years, so the clothes will have changed. Because I'm guessing Uggs are still going to be around in 2012. And I fucking hate Uggs.

Must-see? No. Just wait two years and you'll find out what happens anyway.
Shatner Scale:
Off the charts. We're talking unauthorised Shatner biography here.

Saturday, 4 July 2009

MUSIC REVIEW: Foot of the Mountain by A-Ha (Part 1)

UK Release Date: 13 July 2009

When news reached The No Show headquarters that A-Ha has a new album coming out (Foot of the Mountain), we were surprised. So surprised that we felt this surprise could only be captured via the always surprising medium of comic. So we whipped together a stunningly beautiful piece of comic art with which we hoped to surprise you in much the same way. Then we were surprised to find that Blogger sets size limitations on uploads. Not surprisingly, this makes reading our beautiful comic a bit of a challenge, as you can see:

"A-Ha!" we said. "We know how to get around this!"

And so we uploaded the bugger to Because Twitpic doesn't mess around with stupid size limitations.

Click here for the larger, more readable version. On our best friend, Twitpic.

Then, if you like, come back here. Or stay there. Whatever, we're not your mother.

Must hear? Not sure yet. Waiting to find out what Alan Partridge thinks. Stay tuned.
Shatner Scale:
TJ Hooker. We kinda liked "Take On Me", but "Hunting High and Low" was annoying.

Editor's note: "Photos" used in the comic were "mashed-up" from the "internet" for the purposes of "satire" which we think means they qualify as "fair use" but if you "own" one of the images let us know if you think they have been used "inappropriately" or something, and we'll see what we can "do".

Tuesday, 23 June 2009

MEGA REVIEW: The Top Seven Movies The No Show Will Not Be Seeing This Summer

Despite all evidence to the contrary, it is summer. That means it's time for MegaBig Multimillion Dollar Blockbuster Powerhouses with Extra Power and Explosions and Nudity and Merchandising and Hilarious Porn Films That Take the Original Blockbuster's Name and Make it Sound a Bit Dirty.

It also means it's time for...

The Top Seven Movies The No Show Will Not Be Seeing This Summer

Per The No Show rules, of course, we haven't seen any of these films, but they're so special that we're definitely not going to see any of them. No question.

1. Terminator: Salivation
UK Release Date: 3 June 2009

As movie timelines goes, this pretty much sucks. They should have stuck to the Back to the Future Formula for Time-Travel Film Success: good one, rubbish one, Western one. (Or the Seven Samurai Formula for Success in Everything: Good Original Japanese one, Pretty Good Western copy, Every Other Rubbish one).

Instead, Terminator goes all serious. Except it's not. It's Kindergarten Cop versus Batman. In the future. Directed by the Charlie's Angels guy. Not sure why anyone would want to see a film that follows the plight of the Terminators and their struggles with rust and the perils of excess salivation due to old age, but what do I know?

If this film were a bag, it would be: A man's clutch bag, something that people get excited about every few years but then shove in a cupboard in sheer embarrassment

Box-office final figure: £1bn (in nachos alone)

Porno version: Sperminator: Lubrication

2. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
UK Release Date: 19 June 2009

First, if you're a giant fuckoff robot killing machine from another planet, you don't disguise yourself as a giant driverless fuckoff robot killing machine truck/ helicopter/ missile from outer space. Try a pirate costume or a knight or a chef or a Scottish fucking housekeeper or a spooky fairground owner.

Second, why "The Revenge of the Fallen"? Why not "Transformers 2"? I'll tell you why. Because when you're Producer Director God Michael Bay, you never do what the audience expects. Just when your audience is expecting something to explode like BAM! you explode it like BOOM! You explode that thing in a totally different way. They never expect that.

With this in mind, Bay will no doubt be exploding things in new and exciting ways for years to come, in future titles like:

Transformers: The Passion of the Optimus Prime
Transformers: 120 days of Sodom (Japanese release only)
Transformers: Battleship Potemkin 2 (this time it turns into a big fucking yellow robot)

Box-office final figure: £575m (unless the summer weather finally turns up and children rediscover the joys of Swingball, in which care it'll earn around £3.75)

If this film were a bag, it would be: A really expensive colostomy bag. Overflowing. With no one to empty it ever. Then it would explode. (BAM!)

Porno version: Transgenders: Slice off the ballbag

3. Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs
UK Release Date: 1 July 2009

This is exactly the same story as Terminator if you replace Arnie with Ice and Sarah and John Connor with a mammoth, a tiger and a squirrel or whatever the hell that scrawny acorn junkie is supposed to be. In the first one, the ice travels through time to kill them and they run away. In the second one, the ice is even more dangerous because it's melting, just like the Terminator in Termintor 2, and now in three, things are rising just like in Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. I realise this ice age title says "dawn" but that's pretty much the same thing as rising. Plus, it features dinosaurs, just like Arnie in Terminator 3 .[Ed's note: ZING!]

This means we can look forward to Ice Age 4 in the years ahead, which will be all serious and star Christian Bale and be called something like Ice Age: Ice Ice Baby, featuring a giant murderous prehistoric Vanilla Ice.

If this film were a bag, it would be: A magic bag full of your crushed hopes and dreams.

Box-office final figure: A bag of magic beans that turn into a bean stalk.

Porno version: Spice Age: Porn of the (Spearmint) Rhino Whores
[Ed's note: And that's how to stretch a not veyr funny gag, ladies and g'men]

4. Public Enemies
UK Release Date: 1 July 2009

Not sure it was wise to hire Johnny Depp and Christian Bale to take the lead roles in what we assume is a fictionalised account of the rise of Public Enemy, but who are we to question Michael Mann? After all, this is the director who brought us Miami fucking Vice. I for one can't wait to see Bale bringing down the house with his version of "Pollywanacraka" or "Bring the Noise" as Depp cold-lamps behind him shouting "Are you aware of what time it is?"

One thing though: just because Christian Bale has a bad case of serious face doesn't mean he has to be in everything. However, the fact that Johnny Depp is in it means we're guaranteed meaningless sequels like Public Enemies: Voyage to the End of the Abyss or Public Enemies: Arrgh Arrgh, I've Got a Parrot.

If this film were a bag, it would be: A scrotum. Thin and rubbery and containing two bollocks.

Box-office final figure: Anywhere between £2.00 and £25,000,000. Rounding up.

Porno version: Pubic Enemas. EASY!!!

5. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
UK Release Date: 15 July 2009

I don't understand: is this actually going to star Prince? What does he have to do with Harry Potter? And are they calling him half-blood as part of some racist ploy to get tabloid attention?

If this does star Prince - and we at The No Show are in no position to confirm or deny this - I expect complaints. After all, this is the man who sang about a girl named Nikki who was a "sex queen" who he met "in a hotel lobby masturbating with a magazine". Is this the kind of thing we want to show our kids? They say these were the books that got our kids reading again. No wonder they're all such fucking spasmo hoodie knife-crazy fucknuts. Ban this sick filth.

If this film were a bag, it would be:
A wizard's sleeve. Make of that what you will.

Box-office final figure:
Every single penny in the known universe, leaving JK Rowling so wealthy she will be granted ownership of the Isle of Wight, just in case she ever tries to withdraw her money from the bank.

Porno version:
Hairy Putter and the hard wood ponce [Ed: That really is bloody rubbish.]

6. G-Force
UK Release Date: 31 July 2009

All you need to know is this. The G stands for "gerbils". The Force stands for "force". If you've seen Ultimate Force with Ross Kemp or Ross Kemp on Gangs, this is like those, except replace Ross Kemp with a gerbil and everything else with loads more gerbils. That's it.

It's like an animated Mission Impossible with gerbils in which the gerbils have to escape through Tom Cruise's back door [Ed's note: Back door can mean two things and we definitely mean the hard wooden one that closes off the end of Tom's long passage. And yes, we know how that sounds but really, that's you, not us.]

If this film were a bag, it would be: A brown paper bag. Innocent on the outside but full of filth on the inside.

Box-office final figure: 18p (or however much pocket money seven-year-old children get these days)

Porno version: G-Spot Force (they just make it too easy)

7. Land of the Lost
UK Release Date: 31 July 2009

Will Ferrell. Anna Friel. Dinosaurs. Time-travelling robots. Once again, a TV show no-one remembers becomes a film no-one will see. It's The English Patient all over again*.

Land of the Lost will undoubtedly be a work of cataract-inducing arse candy, like a Brendan Fraser film where you replace Brendan Fraser with a giant cancerous tumour and the action swirls around the cancerous tumour for two hours telling the kinds of jokes that wouldn't even make it in an Adam Sandler film. A film so bad I can't even be bothered to track down a picture of Will Ferrell's head and stick it on the body of Benjamin Linus (from Lost) and then add a badly drawn picture of a dinosaur gnawing on his testicles. You'll just have to imagine it.

If this film were a bag, it would be: One of the blue ones you get from corner shops that rip instantly.

Box-office final figure: Nothing It will be the first major blockbuster since Speed Racer to be seen by absolutely no one.

Porno version: Labia of the lust 2: Spunk in my hair.

7. GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra
UK release date: 7 August 2009

I used to play with GI Joe when I was kid, except in Great Britain we called him "Action Man". Which is unfortunate because instead of sounding like a powerhouse of military might, he sounded like some kind of slimy plastic swinger looking for a good time on a Saturday night.

If the directors of this piece of genius follow the story that I came up with for my GI Joe/Action Man, Joe will fall off a roof, be rescued by Han Solo and Steve Austin, get a spaceship to rescue a teddy bear who is being held prisoner by a dragon and/or a football who was like a terrifying blob monster if my mum asked. When Joe arrives he is kidnapped and tied to a chair and me and Barry Teller, my next door neighbour, shot him with an air rifle. Then I took Joe inside and we watched The Clangers and ate Mojos.

If they follow that storyline to the letter, this film will rule and be awesome. But they won't. They never do.

If this film were a bag, it would be: A school lunchbag. The kind that looks just cool enough for Billy Faversham to steal from you at lunchtime because Barry Teller won't help defend you and he's an idiot.

Box-office final figure: A gajamzillion dollars.

Porno version: GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra already sounds like a porn film

* You didn't know? The English Patient started out as a sitcom, but didn't really work. Turns out people really don't find burn victims funny. However, Willem Dafoe did steal the show as David Caravaggio, the thumbless thief . His hilariously ironic catchphrase "I'm all thumbs" took the world by storm. Especially in some of the more literal Middle Eastern countries, where thumb removal quickly became the punishment of choice for thieves, just so those enforcing the law could shout the catchphrase. It continued to draw appreciative applause from the crowds for years afterwards.

Also: all these photos were found on Wikimedia Commons. Some rights apply, or something.

Monday, 15 June 2009


UK release date: 17 July 2009
Starring: Sam Rockwell and Kevin Spacey

Duncan Jones (aka Zowie Bowie, son of David Bowie). Sam Rockwell. Kevin Spacey (as the voice of the robot). The Moon. Put them all together and what have you got?

A recipe for one of the gayest romps ever to hit the big screen.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, they've only gone and done it: Moon will be the first film that finally - *finally* - explores the much-discussed-but-never-featured-in-a-mainstream-Hollywood-production love-that-dare-not-beep-its-name between a man and his robot.

It's been a long time coming [Ed's note: please refrain from bad sex-based puns]. After all, robots are totally gay. Just ask Bender. [Ed's note: Seriously. Stop it.]

Sure, we've all seen the erotic adventures of gay androids (gaydroids) in space (Star Wars). And we've certainly had same-sex couples in space (Han and Chewy, Han and Leia). And we've even had same-sex sentient animal-robot love (Chewy, C3PO). But this is the first time anyone has dared explore the nuts and bolts [Ed's note: final warning] of a hot and oily human-robot gay love affair in space.*

Oh sure, some have tried to tackle the subject in metaphor, but it's never been convincing or erotic enough. For example, the various Terminator models were obviously just mechanical stand-ins for big ol' leather-clad bulls looking for a good time on a 20th-century Saturday night. (Sometimes a cigar really isn't a cigar, is it Arnie? Sometimes, it's just a big stinky penis metaphor.)

And I'm pretty sure we all knew what HAL 9000 was after when he whispered, "Daisy, Daisy/Give me your answer do/I'm half crazy/all for the love of you" while slobbering over "a bicycle built for two", evoking images of daisy chains and hot, sweaty, throbbing red spots.

Until now, no-one has had the courage to turn the spotlight on the electromomechanosexual in us all.

Some would argue that society isn't ready for gay robot-man love. They would point to the fact that Adam Sandler's comedy pilot "Gay Robot" was never aired. They would be wrong. That show never aired because it was shit and based on a shit sketch from one of Sandler's shit albums. One horny gay robot trying to convince heterosexual human males to gay him. And I'm going to assume there was at least one joke involving a vacuum cleaner.

These naysayers are the same people who failed to see the love that blossomed between Dr Smith and The Robot in Lost in Space. The same people who ignored the undercurrents of rusty interracial love in Short Circuit.

Moon will set the record straight [Ed's note: I'll let that one go]. Based on the very little information we bothered to look up, apart from the title and the cast and the fact that it wasn't a biopic on Moon Unit Zappa, this film sees Moon-based miner Sam Rockwell probing for helium deep into the inner untouched parts of the Moon. [Ed's note: Seriously, enough.]

If that isn't sexy enough, he's alone and sweaty on the moon with a robot. A sexy, lonely robot voiced by Kevin Spacey who may not be gay but who is certainly prepared to stretch himself for his art. [Ed's note: Ok, that's bordering on unpleasant.]

Having not seen the film, we can only assume that the unspoken love between these two beings follows the tried and tested accepted
Hollywood Rules for Gay Love in Films, which are as follows:

1. Unspoken glances between same-sex persons are acceptable so long as one character looks uncomfortable with the situation.

2. Characters may brush up against each other by accident, but only crotch to butt - crotch to crotch brushes are not acceptable, even when one of the characters is metal. Lingering finger- to-metal digit contact will be tolerated. However, insertion of either digit into any part of the other being will cause the whole thing to be shut down.

3. Same-sex kisses must be quick, dry and inherently unsexy, usually followed by extreme hugging, hair tussling and, if pushing the boundaries, awkward and frankly ridiculous neck licking. In the case of gay man-gaydroid love, care must be taken as this may lead to electrocution and/or short circuiting. Under no circumstances will nipple/bolt licking be tolerated.

4. Gay sex encounters must be inherently seedy. Back alleyways [Ed's note: careful], cubicles in public toilets and tents on a mountainside are acceptable. Romantic settings with beds and sheets and candles and same sex couples are typically only seen when the same sex couple is female and there is usually another person watching and/or filming nearby. Probably in a closet with those slats they can peek through. And they usually join in eventually.

5. Gay sex encounters between men must border on violent - like really aggressive wrestling - and almost fully clothed. Unless you're Oliver Reed, in which case gay sex involves actual naked wrestling on a carpet in front of a large fire.

6. Spitting on the hand is now considered taboo because most non-gay persons didn't know what the hell it implied when Heath Ledger did it in Brokeback Mountain until it was too late. (See also Rule #3, re: electrocution)

Ultimately, this potentially groundbreaking epic will be let down not by its exploration of an unspoken moment between two sentient beings with similar genitalia, but by the sci-fi nerds in the audience who will giggle themselves to death while shouting "Danger Will Robinson" every time the Spacey gaydroid looks longingly at Sam Rockwell.

My only hope is that the ad campaign features Rockwell's builder's butt gracing billboards across the UK, revealing a tattoo that reads "All your butts are belong to us", enticing the audience in with the promise of the electromomechanical love that shall not beep its binary code. Maybe then this unnecessary taboo can be put to rest at long last.

It's not much, but it would be a start.

Must-see? Absolutely. This film must be given all the support it can, for the rights of gaydroids today and tomorrow.
Shatner Scale:
TJ Hooker. Because he could have been a gaydroid.

*Battlestar Galactica doesn't count. There were no gay Cylons, just threesomes with two female Cylon models. Which is totally not gay.

Thursday, 21 May 2009

FILM REVIEW: Inglourious Basterds

UK release date: 21 August 2009
but it's already
premiered at Cannes so there's plenty of time to rubbish it completely before it ever sees the light of day here
Bradley Pitts and some less famous, less good-lookin' folks

Tarantino's fetish for all things Irish has finally come full circle. At long last, he's produced the film he's been threatening to make since he first exploded onto the cinematic screen with Riverdance Dogs, Jackie O'Brown, Kilkenny Bill and Kilkenny Bill 2 - to say nothing of his original Irish classic, Pulp Fecktion.

Now, he turns his attention to the little filmed, often debated, Irish-only sport of Hurling - a sort of cross between Rollerball, croquet, lacrosse and crochet. [Ed's note: We've never actually seen hurling being played. Or even pictures of it being played. To be honest, we might have made up this sport during one of our heavier drinking sessions. Independent verification would be appreciated.]

The film follows the ups and downs of the Inglourious Basterds, Ireland's worst ever hurling team (the title refers to the tiny Irish village of Inglourious and the hilarious fact that the Irish can't spell) - these guys just can't hurl.

As Tarantino might write in one of his trademark, self-indulgent, overly wordy, full-fat, static piece of "laugh at my own jokes" movie referencing monologues: 'These guys are the Liz Hurley of Hurling. Sure, you'd fuck 'em but you wouldn't put them in a remake of Bedazzled, because the 1969 Pete and Dud original was like fucking awesome and then, they stick fucking Liz Hurley as the Devil and, like Brendan 'Lantern jaw....' and so on.

Professional cinematic dreamboat, Lothario and international child gatherer Bradley Pitts plays a former Hurling grand master who was also once a member of the IRA (Sports Violence Division). He wants a shot at redemption and realises that coaching the Inglourious Basterds may be his final shot.

Along the way, he'll have to defeat his demons, spout a lot of meaningless movie in-jokes and train this team of lacklustre losers to beat rivals such as the Waterford Wankers, the Drogheads Dickwads, the Cork Suckers (funny, funny Quentin) and the Tipperary Twats.

This being a Tarantino "sports violence" movie, we see the Basterds' victory right at the beginning and Pitts is only introduced halfway through but is constantly referenced in the way Sergio Leone used to do in his films and that.

There's also a ridiculously hip and ironic soundtrack featuring La Roux, Senor Coconut, Black Flag and Sinitta. And of course, the meaning of "So Macho" is discussed at length, a la the "Like a Virgin" bit in Riverdance Dogs, as Tarantino shifts from referential to self-referential and comes very close to disappearing up his own meta-arsehole.

And won't that be funny when it's quoted ver-fucking- batim back at you in the pub? Yes, all the Tarantino trademarks are here and no Blarney stone of cinematic cliche is left unturned.

The writer/director says that this will be the first in a trilogy of "Micksploitation" cinema, in the grand tradition of Leprechaun, Leprechaun 2 : One Wedding and Lots of Funerals and The Magical Legend of the Leprechauns (for which Colm Meaney was forced to apologise to all of Ireland under threat of losing his nationality).

Tarantino will be following Inglourious Basterds with Da Lidl People, about midget supermarket workers who start a motorcycle gang and then Limerick Licking Lesbians, his first (and pray to your own god, last) excursion into porn.

At least, that's what we think it's about. Based on the posters and stuff. Remember, we haven't actually seen it or anything.

Must-see? To be sure, to be sure (because that's what Irish people say, don't they?)
Shatner Scale:
Kirk (and nothing ever gets that)

Pictures courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Some terms and conditions apply, but we can't figure them out.

Wednesday, 20 May 2009


In accordance with The No Show rules, we don't usually buy DVDs or spend any money on seeing any of the films we review or support the industry in any way, shape or form. But the last time we bought a DVD, we've discovered something. And what we discovered shocked and horrified us.

Apparently, people are making counterfeit DVDs and then selling them on to unsuspecting punters.

But the shocking horror doesn't end there.

If the authorities are to be believed - and we always believe whatever the goverment or any highly-paid organisation in the pocket of big business tell us - some of the money being spent on these fake DVDs is being used to fund terrorism.

We're not sure what kind of terrorism that might be. Perhaps it pays for the terrorist's clothes, maybe their backpacks, or even the cell phones on which they record their terrifying messages to be broadcast on terror websites for other terrorists and media outlets.

For all we know, maybe the DVDs themselves are a kind of terrorism, scaring us with their poor quality and stopping us from enjoying the freedoms that some of our grandparents might have fought for if they were in one of the bigger, more important wars, the ones that were actually about freedom and not about oil or sand or religion or which kind of headgear is appropriate for women.

Once we discovered that the DVD we held in our hands might in fact be both funding terror fashion AND frightening innocent entertainment consumers with its terrifyingly poor quality, we knew we had to act.

On closer inspection, we found some telltale indicators that may in fact indicate the DVD in question was a questionable conterfeit, by all indications.

With this in mind, we present:
The No Show Guide To Spotting Counterfeit DVDs.

For the purposes of this Guide, we'll be using a copy of Gilmore Girls Season 4 DVD, which we bought with joy in our hearts from a well known online auction site, whose name rhymes with peeBay.

Keep in mind that we are trained professionals and that the counterfeiting pirates are cunning cons, with their eye patches and rolling DVD copying centres roaming the high seas.

Do not be ashamed or embarrassed if you miss some of the things we are about to point out.

As you can see from the cover, there was no reason to suspect anything was wrong when we opened the DVD. It looked just like any other DVD we might buy, with the title written in words and a photographs of the two delightful stars of the show. But then we began to notice things that made us think this DVD might not have been sanctioned by the honest and sensible people in Hollywood who took the time to make this show and broadcast it for all to enjoy.

First, we noticed something funny about which season the DVD was from. Season 2? Season 4? It confused us, and set our No Show senses tingling, though at this point we were happy to accept it was human error.

Something else caught our eye. We couldn't quite place it, but something wasn't right. Then we had it: the chunky non-English language bit under the title, possibly Chinese, maybe Japanese, we didn't know but it looked damned odd on this all-American TV series.

However, we knew that one of the characters (Lane) was Korean; we figured it was just possible that this was some sort of homage to her, since she features prominently in Season 4. If it was Season 4. We weren't sure because of that mix up at the top of the box.

It wasn't until we turned the box over that we began to really suspect there might be something piratey about this DVD.

Spelling mistakes. Horrible grammar. Poor kerning. Haphazard gaps and slapdash sub-editing. Easily missed by Joe or Jane Layperson but all clear indicators of the pirate to the trained eye. Plus a huge paragraph in Chinese or possibly Japanese or maybe even Korean taking up about a third of the back cover. It was at this point that we were overtaken by a horrible feeling that we were being terrorised.

But it didn't end there.

(And at this point, I should specify that I noticed everything that followed. My No Show co-star was overcome with grief that he might have funded terrorism. He immediately closed his eyes to avoid seeing anything else that might support terrorism and hasn't opened them since. It's making things difficult for him, but I admire his commitment.)

Beyond the horribleness of the typos, I noticed some clearly factually incorrect information. The kind of incorrect information that the pirates knew was incorrect and felt so guilty about that they couldn't even spell "information" correctly on the box (see typos above).

These blatant errors are as follows:

1. "Star5s Falls": Not only a typo, but everyone knows the Gilmore Girls live in Star's Hollow. Stupid pirates.

2. "the two share... a taste for literature": No they do not. They share a taste for bad films, bad food and bad men. Rory is the one who likes to read. Her mother may in fact be illiterate.

3. Kirk: The pirate text suggests that the emotional life of the Kirk character is important enough to highlight on the box. It is not. He is the court jester of the piece, a delightful loser. The pirates obviously sympathise with him. Because they are also losers. Terrifying losers.

4 and 5b. Subtitles: Make up your minds pirates! Is it "English, Francais and Espanol" or "English, French, Arabic, Hebrew"? You're not fooling me in ANY language.

6. Region 1: Lies, lies and more lies. Like the pirates on the high seas, this DVD has no country. Or region.

At this point, our suspicions were heightened: had we bought a fake, pirate, counterfeit DVD from online pirate terrorists? There was only one thing left the check: the moral integrity of the cover image.

Rory's dead, evil eyes are a clear giveaway. Clearly, this otherwise unimpeachable DVD has been in the hands of pirates.

That, plus the fact that every episode on the DVD featured the logo of the WB network, having been recorded badly off the TV. Probably a stolen TV. And a guy stood up halfway through one episode and went to the loo. Stupid pirates.

Having finished our inspection and delivered out verdict, we felt dirty, but glad to have revealed these pirating types for what they are, with their garish colours and questionable morals. And even though we have funded terrorism via online shopping, we feel vindicated, having provided this much needed public service.

And ultimately, we hope that the next time you're buying DVDs from one of the many authorised vendors selling DVDs out of a duffel bag in the local pub, you'll take a moment to ask yourself: was this hand-drawn cover drawn by terrorist pirates? And if it was, we hope you'll have the strength to leave that copy of "The Darks Night" or "Start Wrek" behind.

Eat that, pirates.

Saturday, 2 May 2009

FILM REVIEW: Wolverine

UK Release Date: 1 May 2009
Starring: Huge Aackman. "Huge" to his friends.

I cannot begin to describe how disappointed I was when I found out that Wolverine was not going to be a musical.

This is a colossal mistake. After all, it has all the ingredients of a classic Hollywood musical: Mutants. Wolves. Conflict. And a gigantic hairy Huge Aackman.

I was convinced this was going to a West Side Story for the next generation, a brutal metaphor for our existance, with "animals" battling for survival, as gangs of "Wolves" fought it out with "Sharks" in a bizarre and inexplicable land-sea crossover, with Huge Aackman spinning, diving and ducking at the heart of it all like some delightful and not at all gay Puck in a wolf suit.

My vision of a madcap tap-dancing pelt-wearing Huge Aackman flashing adamantium-clawed jazz hands has been shattered forever.

How could the ridiculous megalomaniacs at Marvel let this happen? Aackman clearly - clearly - wants to do nothing but musicals forever and ever. Preferably with sassy female backing singers and buff male back-up dancers with well-oiled nipples.

His many fans have made it clear that they would rather he did musicals than action hero flicks targeting 12 year old boys. Just listen to the fans applaud as he takes the stage at the Tony Awards in 2004, reinterpreting his role as The Boy from Oz, wearing nothing but gold lame trousers and a leopardprint top, flirting shamelessly with P Diddy who squirms with delight at the attention.

Or at the Oscars, as Huge Aackman flails about in a tight fitting Man Tux and tails. Read their sweaty little comments on Youtube as he grinds his firm buttocks into Barbara Walter's skeletal thighs to the point where, for the briefest of moments, she is reminded what it means to be a woman. The fans want the inner Hugh to sing and dance and generally camp it up until he Aackmans all over them.

And, obviously, the comic book nerds have been begging for a musical adaptation of X-Men for years.

But does Marvel appreciate this groundswell of nervous excitement? Do they answer the giggling masturbatory call of Aackman's surprisingly mostly female fanbase? No. Instead the first superhero musical adaptation we get is Spider-man: Turn Off the Dark featuring music by U2's Boner and The Edger. A musical about a boy wearing pyjamas who climbs walls and fights crime. (Let's just call it what it is, shall we? Peter Parker Pan.)

So Wolverine will not feature Huge Aackman wearing a sad little loincloth, singing about discovering the wolf inside the man. 

We will never get to see an insane whirlwind of well-choreographed dance violence as Aackman clicks his adamantium claws while facing a violent, albeit tongue in cheek enemy, played to perfection at various points in the show's run by David Hasselhoff, Richard Gere and/or Tilda Swinton.

We will never enjoy the pleasure of a surprise duet with Barry Mannilow, singing "Looks Like We Made It" and drowning the audience in their hairy innuendo.

Without the dancing wolves, the scantly clad, bullet-nippled, backing cast and Tony Award winning musical score, what are we left with? 

Huge Aackman in sideburns, that's what.

The fact that this is a filmed version of some kind of comic book prequel to the X-men, which was itself a pretty cool idea that was eventually stretched thinner than Bea Arthur's skin and ended up inspiring things like Heroes, The Incredibles and David Attenborough's The Life of Mammals, doesn't change anything.

Basically, Wolverine without dancing and classic show tunes is just another teenage werewolf film. Which is entirely pointless since everyone knows there is only one believable teen wolf and that is Michael J Fox in the film about a teenager who turns into a wolf, called Teen Wolf.

And that's just tragic.

Shatner Scale: Miss Congeniality 
Worth seeing: Not unless you enjoy disappointment. Or Huge Aackman not dancing and singing. 

Photography: Wikimedia Commons. Wolf image by Cm0rris0n, some terms apply. Image of The Boy from Oz by zesmerelda. Some terms apply.

Friday, 1 May 2009


Title: Shatnerquake
Author: God (using the pseudonym Jeff Burk)

UK release date: Who cares? Buy it as soon as you KHAAAAAN! (See what I did there?)

Hey, what's that sound? That's you cracking the spine on the greatest work of literature ever. And that smell? That is the fresh scent of authorly genius. And that taste? That's you licking the pages in ecstasy as you realise reading (and I use the term loosely, as this is a book you don't just read) can actually be a truly sexual act.

But what is Shatnerquake exactly? No idea. This is The No Show, so we haven't read it. But how can so many Shatners be wrong? Quite simply: they can't.

You have to read Shatnerquake. You need to read Shatnerquake. You will Shatnerquake.

1. Why is Shatnerquake (makes my hands tremble and my genitals swell just to write the word) better than Moby Dick?
More Shatner. Less Whale.

2. Why is Shatnerquake (sorry, I came a little there - pure orgasm, not ejaculate, mind) better than A Tale of Two Cities?
Fewer Cities. More Shatners.

3. Why Shatnerquake (all done now - wait, not quite.... there we go) better than the Bible?
No metaphors, no parables, just 12 Shatners fighting one Shatner. The Bible features not one single Shatner (though many in the Catholic Church still believe the Gospel according to St. Bill was removed by a vengeful priest who couldn't match Shatner's oracular brilliance and staggering thick chested magnificience).

4. Why is Shatnerquake better than One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?
No mentals. Twelve Shatners. Nuff said.

5. Why is Shatnerquake better than you?
Unless you feature 12 Shatners in your everyday life, then Shatnerquake truly eviscerates you.

If the world ends tomorrow (and it might, depending on when you are reading this - remember the internet lasts forever), anyone who has read Shatnerquake could die smiling, with extra wood (if male) or a lovely wide-on (if lady). It's that good.

As the dust jacket says:

William Shatner?
William Shatner.
William Shatner!


Shatner Scale: A Godzilla-sized Kirk
Must read:
For the love of God, man, Yes.

Saturday, 4 April 2009

MUSIC REVIEW: "Footsteps".
By Chris de Burgh.

UK release date: 
I'm not going to tell you in case you decide to buy it.

Admit it: you thought he was dead.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you thought: "Chris De Burgh - he's dead right? Tragic accident? Involving a gardening implement? Maybe a shovel? Or a lawn mower? Didn't his monobrow crawl down and throttle him?"

But you'd be wrong.

This whole time, Chris de Burgh has been quietly, persistently making music. WITHOUT SUPERVISION. OR RESTRAINT.

Someone has to do something.

This is the man who inflicted "Lady in Red" on an unsuspecting world, a song so creepy it could be the song of choice for serial killers while acting out their most terrible fantasies*, as they force their victims to wear a red dress and strap them to their killing table** all the while singing the song over and over in an ominous falsetto*** .

And now he has the TEMERITY to release a collection of HIS intepretation of what HE considers "pop classics" including, but not limited to "Africa" by Toto and "American Pie" by Don McLean.

Why doesn't he just visit each and every one of us personally and drive a blunt ice pick through our ears?**** Why waste time with the formality of recording and releasing such cruel and unusual torture? How can such a monster be allowed to continue?

I'll tell you why. Wedding reception DJs. That's why.

Because the loved-up idiots at something like 98% of all wedding receptions insist on playing "Lady in Red", in the mistaken belief that it's a celebration of some lovely woman and not the grim voiceover to an unwanted living autopsy***** - and DJs agree to do it. Which means they have to have a copy of the song in their aresenal. Which prompts moronic guests at these weddings to buy their own copies, particularly the older folks who don't understand that all music is secretly free if you just know where to look online.******

All of this keeps the money flowing into De Burgh's soft woolen cardigan pockets and maintains the illusion that he has something worthwhile to contribute to music like fucking interpretations of "American fucking Pie" by Don fucking McLean.

And it doesn't stop with the "music". Even the album cover art gives me the creeps.

Apparently, Chris De Burgh is living on his own planet and observing the Earth, like some demented monobrowed alien. Possibly preparing for invasion. A frightening, invisible monobrow invasion.

What's more, he is so twisted that he recorded introductory videos, from deep in his Interplanetary Lair of Woolen Cruelty, that explain why and how he went about choosing this material of evil. He explains the origins of his musical footsteps of evil, which began in his clearly traumatic childhood before he was sent to public boarding school when he and his parents moved into a CASTLE. This was a tragic castle where there was no heat, no water and most tragic of all, NO TV. And they had to become FARMERS. Before they turned it into a small HOTEL! A fucking CASTLE HOTEL. Jesus.

"Many of the songs on Footsteps started right here," says the diabolical genius. If only the scientists had spent a little less time perfecting the internet and turned their attention to something more important, like time travel, we could go back and stop the madness before it begins. If only.

The day the music died, indeed. It is gruesome and vile. And it must be stopped.

* Probably. I have no data to back this up. It's just a feeling.
** Just one possible example. Not all serial killers have the same MO.
*** Speculation. Some serial killers may have lovely singing voices.
**** Satire. This is not an invitation to Mr De Burgh or anyone to stab anyone else with anything.
***** Conjecture. Not all serial killers gut their victims. For some, the killing itself is the end of the madness; there is no particular inclination to explore further. Instead of slicing and dicing, for example, some serial killers may sit down for a good cry. Or wank. It depends.
****** These are the same people who insist on playing "I Will Always Love You" at wedding receptions - completely failing to realise that it's a song about two people who DON'T GET TOGETHER. Morons.

Thursday, 2 April 2009


UK Release Date: 10 April 2009
Starring: Zac Efron (orange teen) and Matthew Perry (orange adult)

OK, full disclosure: even though I haven't seen this film (per The No Show rules), I have seen this film. Everybody has seen this film. There are isolated tribes hidden deep in the jungles of South America who, if asked for the plot of this film, would say, "Oh yeah dude, isn't that the one where this orange dude becomes a younger orange dude version of himself in a desperate quest to rediscover his inner orange dude self that used to be cool and then learns lots of life lessons and totally gets the orange girl and has awesome orange hair?"

Then they would totally shoot you with a poisonous dart before taking away your orange Golden Idol and giving it to Belloq (the French bastard).

But there are two things they will not tell you about this film and these are them:

First, the main dude character in this film, both as an adult and as a teenager and then as an adult again, is totally and completely orange both on screen and off.

Second - and this is the really important bit: we are supposed to believe that Matthew Perry - yes, the chunky orange one from the endlessly repeating TV "classic" Friends - actually looked like Zac Efron when he was 17. (And in case you're older than 14, Zac is the pretty orange girl from the High School Musicals films.)


I can accept that John Travolta and Nicolas Cage switched faces and recovered in like five minutes in Face/Off. Twice. I can accept that a team involving Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck and Owen Wilson saved the world from an asteroid by being sent into space by Billy Bob Thornton on a military space shuttle in Armageddon. I can even accept the idea of Madonna as actress in Evita.

But my belief suspenders officially snap at the idea of Matthew Perry once looking anything even slightly resembling Zac Efron.

The reasons for this are threefold:

1. Matthew Perry is an old man and Zan Efron is clearly a pretty, young girl. Very flat-chested admittedly, and a bit boyish in her clothing choices, but a girl nonetheless. It's too big a gap for my brain to cross.

2. Matthew Perry looks like someone grabbed his head and inserted it up a cow's ass, twisted it around and then popped it back out, before leaving him out in the sun to dry for several weeks. His skin is loose and a bit floppy like a hunting dog's and it may one day actually reach the ground. His hair is a weird mix of really dry and really greasy. His clothes always look like they may have fit him once, but a long time ago when he was either fatter or thinner. Zac Efron, meanwhile, is a pretty, young, well dressed girl.

3. Matthew Perry is... nope, I've got nothing. Read 1 and 2 above. It's that simple. Matthew Perry and Zac Efron. The same person. Totally ridiculous. Like having Morgan Freeman paying an older version of Scarlett Johansson. Painted orange.


Shatner Scale: Quincy cameo.
Must hear: No. For the love of God, no.

Friday, 6 March 2009

FILM REVIEW: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Undead

UK Release date: Not soon enough
Starring: A bunch of people and featuring RALPH MACCHIO

Ok, here's the deal: not only have we not seen this film, as far as I know they haven't even finished making it yet.

Here's what we do know so far, via

"Julian Marsh is an out of work ladies' man who lands a job directing a bizarre adaptation of Hamlet. After casting his best friend and his ex-girlfriend in the show, Julian finds himself in the middle of a two thousand year old conspiracy that explains the connection between Shakespeare, the Holy Grail and some seriously sexy vampires. It turns out that the play was actually written by a master vampire name Theo Horace and it's up to Julian to recover the Grail in order to reverse the vampire's curse... If only being undead wasn't so much God-damned fun!"

Sexy vampires, Shakespeare, more sexy vampires - do we really need to say more? And in case you think we do need to say more, we will only say this one thing more: Ralph Macchio.

What's that you say? Ralph "Karate Kid" "Wax On Wax Off" Macchio? Oh yes.

Verdict? Awesome.

All it needs to make it perfect is the ghost of Pat Morita. They can do that in film these days you know. I'm thinking of an Obi Wan glowing-in-the-background-and-looking-strangely-heavier-than-he-did-before-he-died kinda thing.

Seriously, I don't know what's taking them so long. Just finish it already dammit! While we're waiting, enjoy the trailer (Ralph Macchio's about 3/4 of the way through. He still looks freakishly young. Maybe he's a vampire.)

*Photo courtesy the internet. Not sure who holds the copyright and we'll dump it if it's a problem, but we're pretty sure it's promotional and falls under the definition of Fair Use or something.


Wednesday, 25 February 2009


UK Release Date: 6 March 2009
Starring: Billy Crudup, Jackie Earle Haley and a whole bunch of
future ComiCon attendees

As with everything else on this site, and per the Second Rule* of The No Show, we have not seen Watchmen.

In the interests of full disclosure, however, we have to admit that we have read the comic books [Ed's note: To anyone about to say something, it is a comic book not a graphic novel, so shut it].

We both have copies of the original series (though mine sit in a box somewhere in my parents' basement 3,500 miles from here and are probably covered in crayon scribbles by my nephews because NO-ONE in my ENTIRE FAMILY understands the REAL value of collectibles. *Sheesh*).

We also both know the story involves this superhero owl guy, and another superhero guy with a black and white mask, and a big, kind of Silver Surfer ripoff type character. And a guy who looks like he welcomes new guests as they arrive in Vegas (and possibly stands in for Siegfried and/or Roy on their off days). And even a couple of relatively well rounded female characters too. Right?

Anyway, we read the thing and vaguely remember the plot.

So there's that out of the way, yeah? Great, on with the review:

Watchmen is going to be awesome.

There, done. You can go ahead and move on to something else now, we're done here.

No, seriously. It will be. Guaranteed. It has to be. Wil Wheaton said so. Twice. On TWITTER no less.

And the fact is that it better be awesome. Because if it's not, somebody's going to have to pay. Expectations are so freaking high for this thing that the fansboys and girls will be throwing themselves under passing buses in protest if even one iota of not awesome appears on screen. (Probably one of those Atheist buses too. Just for the irony.)

Remember: this is the comic book that gave birth to this whole interweb thingy. Or at least, it's the thing that got their mojo going. Right after porn, Watchmen is like the next thing on the list of things that made the internet thing popular really fast.

No but SRSLY it's for true: back in 1986, when the comics came out and everyone was all "Whoa like totally AWESUM" (that's how they spoke back then), rumours started circulating about a film version. At that exact moment, the finishing touches were being put on Internet 1.0. Next thing you know, the Web is born and everyone's all over it and asking "So like when is the Watchmen film happening bcuz it R so cool?" when not surfing for porn.

This was of course before everything got taken over by losers trolls and people with a disturbing fascination for cats. (Seriously, what the HELL is up with all the cats on here?)

By the time the actual film was finally put together by a team of magic elves working feverishly for months on end in a secret cave in North Hollywood, and following several trumped up very very important lawsuits (always a good sign on a film production), the interwebs had evolved to the point where celebrities were using l33tspeak well-known internet abbreviations in casual conversation to express their excitement at the film's inevitable awesomeness:

And so now, with the film rising on the horizon like some great big glowing thing peeking out from behind the glowing greatness of President Obama's Presidential Halo of Power, we are left with only one possible outcome: awesomeness.

Watchmen will be awesome.

It will not be slightly disappointing. It will not be just "OK" or "not bad". It will not not quite live up the comics, the ones we haven't read for 20 years but seem to recall really really liking for reasons we can't quite remember (something about it being "really real" and not having a happy ending). It will also not be so buried in CGI that we forget we're watching a live action film, nor will it be ruined by excessively wooden acting performed by actors whose names we won't remember after the credits role, names that if we could remember, we would then forever curse because they were so wooden.

And it will definitely not be yet another absolutely piss-poor piece of shit big screen adaptation of Alan Moore's work, like V for Vendetta, From Hell and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. They were just flukes.

No, Watchmen will be AWESOME.

Or it will be the worst thing in the history of cinema.

Because when it comes to Watchmen, there's nothing in between.

(And Twitter will fail due to overcapacity either way, of course.)

UPDATE: The Quietus thinks "[director] Jack Snyder has taken one of the greatest comic books ever published, and made the the single worst comic book movie ever to see daylight. Batman And Robin was Apocalypse Now compared to this."

UPDATE: The Motion/Capture review says "Zack Snyder's 'Watchmen' is a profound work of art, a beautiful, deliriously weird, meditative spin on a genre that is as American as jazz."

So there you go: The No Show - your one-stop shop for accurate reviews.

* For reference, the First Rule of The No Show is: Don't touch yourself in public, if at all possible.

Photos: Owl by Dr. Tarak N Khan/Some rights reserved; Who watches the watchmen grafitti by David Masters/Some rights reserved.