Porocrom's Crappaper

It is time for yet another Porocrom post. To those of you who said that this site is dead, we can only say “shut up, it’s not dead, it’s only dying”. This time, the amazing review will concern the movie 300. The review is brought to you by Dark Tranquillity’s Ex Nihilo and a watchplate. So, 300. Granted, I haven’t actually seen the movie, but hey, this is the internet, you’re what you say you are, so fuck if I’m not going to write a review. While I’m at it, I am a movie critic and a historian who specialises in ancient Sparta.

Before watching the movie, I constantly heard all kinds of criticism about it, so you can imagine that I was more than a little curious to see if it would be justified or not. The Iranians were like “Persians are portrayed as goddamn fairies”. Goddamn fairies were like “man, those spartans are hot”. Spartans were like “Dude, what the fuck, ancient spartans were actually wearing armor, but who the fuck cares, those spartans are hot. Plus the Persians are kinda gay, are we sure they actually wanted to make war, not love?”. I’ll let you know when I do watch it, but in the mean time, I can tell you one thing. That movie is so fucking unrealistic. Seriously. For one, spartans weren’t all ripped. There’s not one spartan with a pot belly in that movie, or even one whose abs’ indentations are less than two inches deep. I happen to know for a fact that in the original battle there was one guy who liked to have one beer too many occasionally, but they still kept him around as a human shield or for fetching the drinks.

Also, what the fuck is up with the sun? The colors are all wrong. Have you ever seen the sky being that red? We are forced to conclude by the cinematography that ancient sparta’s atmosphere was part methane, either because of the flatulence all those beans caused or because of the fact that the movie actually takes place on Mars.

Shit, there are so many things wrong with the movie, I don’t know where to begin. Fuck, I bet those guys weren’t even 300. I bet they just said that to sound cool. “Hey, we’re 300 and we killed like, a million persians! Of course, we’re all dead, so, come to think of it, there’s really noone to tell you this, but it’s still cool as fuck. Also, the previous sentence contains profanity unbecoming a spartan”.

While I’m at it, I should warn you about some other unrealistic movies. For example, Terminator 2. God that movie sucked. Remember the scene where the Governator is on the motorcycle (by the way, on the high-def version you can clearly see it’s not the Governator, but I digress)? Remember how he like, twirls his gun like a well built, masculine cheerleader twirling a baton to reload it? THAT SHIT NEVER HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE. I got a sawed-off shotgun and tried to reload it like that, and I fucking shot myself in the face! Twice! It’s impossible for that to happen, yet I don’t see the persians or the Terminators complaining about that. You know why? Because the Terminator minority is misrepresented in the world, but that’s a whole other post.

So, 300. I have another bone to pick with the movie, which is that the music playing in the background (on the trailer, anyway) is totally out of place. No spartan would be playing that music in the background, alternative rock wasn’t invented until a few millennia later. The movie is just rife with inaccuracies. Also, if Ephialtes was born in sparta, they’d have thrown his ass down a cliff, not given him a lollipop and a bullshit excuse. “Aww, U R 2 KEWT, but ur 2 short 4 hold teh shield, sorri ^_^”. Fuck that.

That movie totally pissed me off. I should probably watch Harry Potter or something to cool off. Harry Potter contains no inaccuracies whatsoever, by the way. That is all.

A few years ago, a movie called Saw came out, and stupid viewers the world over watched it and cried in unison “Wow, that was so unexpected. I just came in my pants”. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s about some guy killing people by putting them in situation where escape is hard (such as trapping a guy in a device that will crush his face and putting the key behind his eye or some shit), and enjoys watching what they do.

So, these two dudes wake up in a room with a corpse one day, and try to escape. After many trials and tribulations, it is revealed that the murderer was a patient of one of the two dudes, and we see him in the movie for two fucking seconds. Literally, he’s lying in a bed during a scene, he doesn’t even have a line. In the end, the dead body with the bashed head that has been in the room for the last two hours stands up and it is revealed that hey, that’s no dead body, it’s the murderer. This is the point where people go “wow, I did not see that coming”.

A good movie surprise must consist of two elements: Giving you hints all over the place, and the outcome still being totally unexpected. Sixth sense was a good surprise. Saw excels in the second element, but only because it fails miserably in the first. It’s very fucking easy to do something unexpected when you haven’t shown anything relating to it during the whole fucking movie. A dead guy gets up, and whoop-de-doo, nobody expects it. Of course you don’t expect it, you idiot, it wasn’t hinted at at all! Would you still think the movie rocked if the murderer came out a flowerpot?

I am thinking of making a movie as well, and since audiences are so easy, it will be an instant hit. It’ll feature gory murders and major plot holes, but in the end some dude will come in and be like “I did all the murders because I am going to die some day and I wanted you all to die before me! Also, I am responsible for all the plot holes, and I have been hiding in this flowerpot for the entire movie! How obvious was that?!”. I can see it now, it will be the highest grossing movie of all time. Noone will expect the ending, even though the killer will have been right there under their noses the entire time. Maybe I’ll add a flowerpot watermark on the lower right corner of the screen, too, thus making it the only movie ever that featured the killer in every single scene with no one being any the wiser. It’s brilliant, brilliant!

So yeah, there’s this dismembered dude in the middle of the room for some twelve hours, and neither of the characters notices he’s alive. No “Hey, this guy’s breathing”, no “Who farted? It was you, wasn’t it? Well, it wasn’t me, so it’s either you or the dead guy! Oh, wait…”, no nothing. And in the end the guy just gets up and is like “Hello gentlemen, I am really alive, my severed head was really just makeup, how good am I, huh”!

I am in awe of how stupid people can be while thinking they’re Sherlock Holmes. “Wow, how could I have missed that? He was there the entire time, and I am very very good at spotting these hints, therefore my hat’s off to the writers”. Nobody considers that the reason they might not have expected the dead guy to be the killer is that the guy is fucking dead!

Please, please, if you have seen this movie and think it is the best thing since anal sex with a young Thai boy, please comment here and tell me why you find it so brilliant, I am very much interested in hearing your opinions (so I can mock you afterwards for being an idiot).

I just saw House of Wax and I want my fucking hour back. What an utter load of fucking shit. It was about a city where some brothers kill and maim and whatever, bleh. I realise films require some suspension of disbelief, but this fucking movie required suspension of brain activity in order to be enjoyed. No, not really, not even braindead people would enjoy it. In fact, they would detest it. Anyway, as I was watching it, getting ideas on how to kill the friend that suggested it, I began to identify some of the cliches of horror films. Seriously, come to think of it, all these movies are always, always the same. I will elaborate on what I mean anon:

When being chased by someone, forget to walk.

Why is it that when the killer chases someone, that dude never remembers how walking goes. I mean, how fucking often have you tripped and fell in the last 20 years of your life? Seriously, it’s right foot, left foot, it shouldn’t be that fucking hard. Also, when someone’s chasing you and you fall, don’t get up immediately, just take your fucking time, what’s he going to do anyway, kill you? Nah. Lying down and staring at him is a surefire way to scare him away, do that.

When hiding, don’t be quiet.

There’s someone after you and you manage to pick your ass up from the ground long enough to find an abandoned warehouse, conveniently placed in the middle of the desert. You get in and find a hiding place, and the killer waits patiently for you to hide and comes in, even though he was just two seconds behind you. So, now that you are safely hidden, what can you do to pass the time? That’s right, sneeze. Don’t feel obliged to be quiet, that’s rude. Sneeze, cough, play with some bones and scream when a severed head falls, whatever, it’s all good.

If you manage to injure the killer, walk away.

Picture this: You’re walking through an abandoned town, complete with everything people have in houses, and you know there is one or more killers in the vicinity. Don’t stop to take anything, and if you see knives or guns around just leave them there. If, despite what I just said, some kind of lame weapon like a baseball bat or a crossbow falls in your hands, try to injure the killer. When you do, he will invariably fall to the ground and obviously die. You don’t really need to check or make sure he’s dead in any way, because, well, you just put a dart through his fucking skin! If that’s not a fatal wound, I don’t know what is. “Hey, wanna check if the dude’s dead?” “Nah, just leave his gun and yours and let’s go to the other buildings, it’s cool.”

The killer dies.

This is an extension of the previous rule. The killer never dies, you idiot. Even if he somehow dies now, he’ll be alive in the sequel. This is actually a pretty good way to discover who the killer is, just kill everyone on the cast, whoever doesn’t die is the psychopath. Other people will die by the dozens, just smack them in the face and they die, but you can bludgeon, shoot, burn, poison, hang, maim, burn, poison, shoot, maim, maim the killer and he’ll still be alive to kill again. That’s why you see three and four sequels to a god-awful movie.

The killer can’t walk through walls.

No matter where you are, no matter how well you’ve looked around before you get in there, the killer is in there with you. I don’t care if you just jumped in a coffin and locked the lid, the killer will either be hiding under the pillow or slip in through the crack. Just when you think you’ve lost him, he’ll come and stab you in the ass with his dick. Can you say “anal rape”?

Whatever you do, don’t stick together.

Hey, you’re 12 people against one killer and you’re trying to avoid dying. Obviously, the best way to do that is to split up, because, let’s face it, noone is going to kill 12 people one by one, right? Right. So, don’t arm yourselves, don’t stick together, don’t even try to get the fuck out of wherever you are, just split up and roam around aimlessly. Statistics have shown that people who do that have a 95.7% chance of survival, and that’s a damn good chance.

So, there you have it. An unofficial guide on how to survive a (bad) horror movie. By the way, Elisha Cuthbert is quite the hotness. Nice boobs. Paris Hilton could use some face ironing, but nice body. Yes, this post has descended to boob talk, sic transit gloria mundi.

I went to see a movie yesterday to this new multiplex movie theatre thing which boasted a screen the size of the equator, a sound system that plays even sounds you can’t hear and seats that give you orgasms. By the way, if you watch Ong Bak, there’s some chalk writing on a wall somewhere that says “Hi, Speilberg. Let do it together.” I wonder if they are going to “do it together”... But yes, the theatre.

I don’t understand the point of larger and larger screens. They have gotten so large that I always have to turn my head from side to side to catch the entire frame. Whenever conversation scenes come on I get spinal injuries, I have watched tennis games with less pain than that. I can only blame the stupid people that go to whatever theatre has the largest screen. Here’s a tip, Einstein: If you want a big screen, stick your nose up to your TV and watch, it’s much better that way.

Also, what is up with the sound systems? People seem to have mistaken “better quality” for “higher volume”. Hey, owner guy, I would prefer gunshots not to cause my ear drums to bleed. On romantic scenes it feels like I’m in a club and on action scenes it feels like I’m strapped to the bottom of the space shuttle during takeoff. Digital sound is great as long as it doesn’t cause deafness, and soon my insurance company will stop covering cinema-related injuries so a movie will cost about $1300.

Needless to say, the seats didn’t give me an orgasm (or if they did it was when I was unconscious), my pants were clean. Seriously though, how can each row of seats be a foot higher than the next one and I still get some guy’s head right where Kate Beckinsale’s genitalia is supposed to be? Damn you, tall guy. Maybe it would help if they didn’t make the fucking screen larger than a football field and then lower it right in front of the first row.

And don’t get me started about the popcorn and soda. Since when do they cost more than the actual fucking ticket? A bucket of popcorn costs like $6, and last time I checked it took two cobs of corn and some salt to make it. We grow that shit by the ton, what the fuck caused a worldwide shortage of corn these days? And since when did a medium Coke cost $3? Where am I, Africa?

The thing that pisses me off the most is that almost every movie is a piece of shit. I remember watching Ecks vs. Sever a few years ago, it was the most expensive nap I ever took. I slept through 90% of the movie and I still know the plot. It was like “doze off, explosion, wake up, Antonio Banderas. Doze off, explosion, wake up, Antonio Banderas”. What an original concept, and Lucy Liu wasn’t even naked in any scene (or maybe I missed it, but I doubt it, I would have woken up if anyone was moaning). At least there’s not much else to do in the theatre so my ADD isn’t a problem, but it takes me 3 days to watch a DVD when I rent one. Late fees are a bitch.

In summation, they should give you a complimentary blowjob with each movie, and with all the darkness in the cinema I wouldn’t even take that, you never know who’s doing the sucking. Also, I just finished watching Saw II, and it’s not as horrible as the first one, but a bit more stupid. Imagine, you’re in a house full of traps and you just rush to grab everything you see. “Oops, I died.” That’s Saw II.

P.S. Best movie ever: The Shawshank Redemption (Disclaimer: I haven’t watched any one of the Godfathers)

Courtroom dramas. You know, those series/movies on TV where people are in a courtroom. What about courtroom dramas, you might ask. I will tell you what about courtroom dramas, I will answer. I hate courtroom dramas. And by the time I’m done, I will have used the phrase “courtroom dramas” so many times that you will hate it too, because it will have stopped sounding like a phrase and it will sound all weird in your mind.

I was watching Law and Order a few minutes ago, it’s over now. I don’t mean that old one, I mean the one with the hot blonde chick whom I would vow I would have sex with if she wasn’t so old, because now by the time I get to have sex with her she will be a hundred years old, and I don’t do old women. Except Kate Beckinsale, I’d do Kate Beckinsale even if she was 200. Anyway, I don’t even know if it was Law and Order, it is the one that intermittently shows a big black screen with white letters that describe the current place and this sound goes dan dan and you shit your pants, because it’s that cool.

While watching that, I realised how stupid and gullible all the guilty people are. Below is an actual conversation from a movie which I have made up, but it will be from a movie when I film it. Anyhow, it is quite representative of all the other courtroom dramas.

Lawyer: Mr. Smith, did you kill Mrs. Doe?
Accused: You have no evidence! I have an alibi! I was at a party that night! You will never convict me!
Lawyer: Please answer with “yes” or “no”.
Other lawyer: Objection, Your Honour! Speculating!
His Honour: Sustained. Please focus on facts, or I will have you in contempt, bitch!
Lawyer: Mr. Smith, did you not kill Mrs. Doe?
Accused: (Starts to cry) She wouldn’t leave me alone! She was always ordering me “mail this” and “do that” and “call him” and “set me an appointment for 8 pm”!
Lawyer: You were her secretary! You were her secretary and you couldn’t handle that, could you? That’s why when she went to the bathroom you put three gallons of industrial solvent in her coffee, isn’t it? {font-size: smaller} Even though we have no evidence of that because her body was never found. Come to think of it, we don’t even know if she’s dead, she might be on vacation somewhere. But that is irrelevant. You couldn’t take the pressure so you killed her, didn’t you?
Accused: (Sobbing) YES! YES! I CONFESS, ALL RIGHT? Even though your lack of evidence is phenomenal and my full-time job is an actor I cannot take your unfounded accusations any more. I would rather die in the electric chair than refuse to answer for a minute until you go away! (More tears, someone isn’t using Johnson’s Baby Shampoo)

Just think how much simpler life would be if everyone acted like those shows. For example, if you suspect your wife faked an orgasm, you could go with this:

You: Honey, did you orgasm just now?
She: Oh yes baby, it was great. My pudendum feels like sunshine and butterflies now.
You: You’re lying! You didn’t have an orgasm and so you faked one, didn’t you?!
She: (In tears) OKAY! I ADMIT IT! IT WAS ALL A LIE! ALL THESE SECONDS, NONE OF IT WAS TRUE! BOOHOO!

Oh yes, life would be much simpler, like in biblical times when God told you it was going to rain and you built a giant boat instead of a giant umbrella… Ah, those were the days. But I digress. There was one movie I actually liked, the one with Tom Cruise and Demi Moore and Jack Nicholson. DID YOU ORDER A CODE RED? YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID, BITCH! That movie was nice. And this post comes to an end like a car hitting a wall. And by that I mean that you survive unscathed but this post is no more. Also, abruptly.

I just returned from the Iron Maiden concert here in Athens, soaked in sweat, most of which wasn’t even mine. I shall now recount to thee the details of my aforementioned journey to

THE IRON MAIDEN CONCERT

First of all, I would like to tell you of the terms of the concert, which were written in the back of the ticket. They were these:

• If you take any pictures or videos of the concert, they belong to Iron Maiden.
• Pictures or videos of the concert are not allowed.
• If Iron Maiden takes pictures or videos of you, they belong to Iron Maiden.
• If you step in the concert area, or in a radius of 15 km thereof, or within earshot, you and your firstborn belong to Iron Maiden.

Consequently, the following pictures were not taken at the aforementioned concert. Which is sad, because the exquisite pictures range from “Random people standing at random places” to “Generic lighted stage picture #943”. I decided not to take my digital camera with me, because I paid like, a gazillion bucks for it, and like hell was I going to risk breaking it for you guys.

Also, a few tips before you go to any rock concert:

• Take as little with you as you can, but OMG DON’T OMIT CLOTHING. Unless you are a woman. But not ugly.
• Always keep your t-shirt on. Unless you are a woman. But not with saggy boobs. Guys, WTF was up with removing your shirts, you are sweaty and smelly and filthy and you stink, fucking pigs. Also, when you touch other people without your shirt on, that shit sticks to the other person’s skin and I got half my skin flayed off me in this manner.
• For god’s sake, wear your old shoes.
• Men go in the front, hot women go with me.
• Chicks with big boobs should bounce more.
• That’s it.

So, we went there, and after a lot of waiting and “One two three, one two three, hey hey hey testing”, Dragonforce came on the scene and started singing. Sadly, they were not able to stir up a lot of enthusiasm among the crowd, but that was mostly because they weren’t who we went there to see. They did rock though. After a while, they finished their gig and it was IRON MAIDEN time.

We had to wait a bit more for it to get dark, to MAXIMIZE THE EFFECT. They started with Remember Tomorrow or something like that, which I hadn’t heard of before. Apparently though, everyone else knew it, but they were all virgins anyway. Hell, I didn’t know half the songs, but they were from the first four albums they released and I doubt I had been born back then, so I am excused.

After a few more unknown songs, we started DEMANDING Alexander the Great, the greatest great historical song ever, and Bruce was like “Every time I come to Greece, you ask me to sing that song”. Well duh, genius. Didn’t you learn from the previous 12 times that we were probably going to ask for it again, and that you should probably have practiced it? Anyway, he made a deal with us, we were going to sing a couple of verses and next time they came they would play it themselves. We concurred, and he began singing a cappella:

Alexander the Great,
His name struck fear into hearts of men.
Alexander the Great,
Blar glar glar meeen.

This verifies the theory of the ingrate and the dimwit, who said that they don’t know the lyrics to that song. Damnit. Anyway, better luck with that next time. But seriously, he could have told me to go up on the stage and I would tell him the fucking lyrics, it’s not that hard, everyone knows them.

They played a few more songs, including “The Number of the Beast”, “Hallowed Be Thy Name” and “Run to the Hills”. They told us from the beginning that they were going to play songs from their first four albums, but everyone knew this meant “our first four albums and Fear of the Dark”, so naturally we were waiting for it.

Alas, it never came. They played and played and played, but no “Fear of the Dark” in sight. After a while, and when Bruce had introduced the band members, we began chanting “FEAR! OF! THE! DARK!”, but our cries went unanswered. They said their goodbyes and left, and we were all like “OMFG WTF”!

Seriously, I know that you played all those other cool songs which you probably had never played before, since I have all your live albums and they are nowhere to be found, but going to an Iron Maiden concert and not hearing Fear of the Dark is like having sex and the phone ringing when you are about to come. Only instead of sex it’s a concert. And instead of coming it’s Fear of the Dark. And instead of a telephone it is your momma.

I can’t help but feel cheated. It was the first concert I went to, and damnit, I wanted to hear Fear of the Dark. Still though, it was worth every cent (Eurocent, which is like 1.3 dollar cents, so it was worth like 1.3 cents more than your American ones, muhaha). Overall, it was a great show, and we had lots of fun. BUT SERIOUSLY, YOU MADE LIKE $1M TODAY, WOULD IT FUCKING KILL YOU TO PLAY FEAR OF THE DARK? Jeez…

Also, as a side note, there was this hot chick next to me that had this boyfriend, who also looked like a chick, but not that hot. Wtf was up with that couple? I do have reason to hope though, because she spent the largest part of the concert behind me, and I was wearing my Poromenos t-shirt, so all she has to do now is google me and find this site, where she will promptly notice the email address she must use to email me. Hot chick, EMAIL ME HERE: HotChickFromIronMaidenConcert@poromenos.org.

Update: Alas, tonight I was unable to sleep. Bruce Dickinson’s treachery kept echoing in my mind and all I could hear in my head was a voice saying “Revenge! Revenge!”. I pondered long and hard, and I finally came with a foolproof plan that will lead to Iron Maiden’s undoing. It is a plan of utter magnificence and unspeakable horror, the likes of which only a criminal mastermind such as myself could spawn. I will exact my revenge upon Iron Maiden, starting now. You have undoubtedly heard that whenever someone downloads a song, that artist loses millions of dollars. I will, therefore, as of now, download all of Iron Maiden’s albums again and again, costing them trillions of dollars in lost revenues! This will perforce cause the band to disband, as they will be unable to pay all that money. Goodbye, Iron Maiden! Mwahahahahaha!

No, not the Disney one…

I was bored on a Saturday morning, flipping through channels on TV, when I came across what may be the GREATEST B-movie (described by someone on IMDB as a Triple-Z movie) I have ever seen.

HERCULES

Where to start… for those of you who aren’t familiar with the story of Hercules (or Heracles, if you swing that way) you can read it here or just take my word for it, it’s great.

The 1983 treatment of Hercules brings a whole new gravity to the term 'artistic license’. Starring Lou Ferrigno, a B actor and bodybuilder in his own right, this movie took Greek mythology and science fiction to all new depths of head-scratching. As I present a synopsis of the movie, please be advised that I am not making any of these things up. This is what happens in the movie, unaltered.

Hercules is found in a basket by the river. Perhaps the director was confused between Greek mythology and the Bible (no comments regarding which is more plausible), but apparently he was orphaned by the gods and sent down the river in a basket. Hera sends some snakes to kill him, but little baby Hercules catches them in his hands. Then, for no explained reason I could discern, a grown woman’s hands are seen crushing the serpents.

Hercules is found by some people who like to steal babies. He grows up, and over the years becomes the Incredible Hulk… again, for no reason I can discover. One day while collecting wood in the forest, a bear sneaks up on Hercules’ adopted dad and kills him. Enraged and inflamed with vengeance, Hercules beats the living fuck out of some poor schmo in a bear costume. He then hurls the bear into outer space (which was the style at the time), whereupon it becomes a constellation.

Meanwhile, the evil king Minos summons Daedalus, the god of science. A sidenote for those of you who aren’t mythology buffs, Daedalus was a guy who designed a lot of stuff (including the Labyrinth made famous by Theseus and the Minotaur) and the father of Icarus. Daedalus is NOT a scantily-clad chick with magical science powers. But back to the movie. Daedalus and Minos hatch a plot by which they mean to overthrow the gods, but Hercules is a threat. To stop him from achieving greatness, Daedalus sends a giant metallic moth tinker-toy to kill him. However, it gets bored and kills Hercules’ mom instead.

Hercules, upon finding his mom dead, fights the tinker-toy with a stick. Apparently in those times, wood is a great conductor of electricity. Hercules then lights his house on fire. This is a snippet from the movie.

Some guy: Hercules, why are you lighting your house on fire?
Hercules: I have no house anymore.

Well no SHIT, you just torched it! Like… couldn’t he have just locked the door? I really didn’t understand that part.

So Hercules goes to become a great warrior, and in that way somehow discover who killed his parents. OJ Simpson would use this same strategy millenia later, finding “the real killers” by golfing a lot. He goes to a kingdom and fights a lot of people in an incredibly comical fashion. At the end of the trials, he throws a log into space, destroying the planet between Earth and Mars (apparently there was one before).

Then a lot of stuff happens that is funny, but not THAT funny. Suffice it to say, he ends up getting kidnapped and marooned on the Isle of Circe the sorceress. He kills a metal dragon monster using cosmic rays (seriously, not making this up), some more stuff happens, there’s a magical amulet… some more stuff happens, Hercules and Circe end up in Africa. Circe makes him grow to super-size, whereupon he pushes the continents of Africa and Europe apart.

Some more stuff happens… I would have tried to make a more accurate synopsis but a) it would be WAY longer than this (which is already long as hell) and b) the stupidity of the movie had rendered my brain the approximate consistency of old cottage cheese.

Anyways, Hercules finds a magic chariot, and then instead of using horses to pull it, he uses a rock… you’re not the only one who finds that odd, trust me. Anyways, the rock pulls them through outer space to the island that Minos lives on… an island in space, sure.

Hercules fights a third robot monster. It kills Circe (she was getting irritating anyways, and Hercules is supposed to bang this other chick). Hercules finds out that Minos’ dastardly plan is to use the power of the Phoenix to give him super-strength and stuff. Once again, for those of you who aren’t mythology buffs, the Phoenix isn’t even Greek… it would be roughly the same as if Hercules used King Arthur’s sword to crush the Intergalactic Empire…

So yeah, magic sword fight, crazy sex scene, I had to leave the room. Sadly, most of our movie reviews will end this way, because they stink SO BAD.

But if you’re in the mood for a REALLY good laugh, check out this movie. I don’t think I have laughed this hard at a movie before. The bear scene is the best.

What is wrong with scriptwriters? Why are they so detached from reality? Consider the following oh-so-familiar scenario (in a movie):
Man: Oh my love, I love you, will you marry me, <3?
Woman: Oh yes, I will, my love. I <3 you too, it does not matter that you are piss poor and we cannot even afford cereal decoder rings for our wedding!
Man: Oh yeah, about that... I am actually very very rich. I kinda didn't mention that.
Woman: Oh my God, you pig! How could you do this to me?!
Man: Nono, I said rich! You know, the opposite of poor! You know, lots of money and stuff
Woman: Oh my God, I hate you. I never want to see you again!
Man: Uh, no, wait!

Seriously, who would act like that? If I were a woman and that happened to me, it would go like this:
Woman (me): Wow shit, I have a vagina. Let me go masturbate, I wonder what that feels like. Oh shit, look at these boobs. I am SO hot. Be right back.
(A few hours later)
Man: Oh my love, marry me.
Woman: Oh well, okay, for some reason I love you, it's probably the scriptwriters. It doesn't matter that you're poor, I'll marry you.
Man: Oh, that is so great, I am happy. By the way, I'm a millionaire.
Woman: Wow, shit! That's grand, do you have a swimming pool and stuff?
Man: Yeah, the works!
Woman: Wow, great. I understand that you wanted me to love you for who you are and not your money (I am so hot, by the way) and that's why you didn't tell me, and now we can get married and live in luxury forever. Can I order some lesbian hookers please?
Man: Yeah, sure. I actually have more money than I can count, so knock yourself out.
Woman: Great, thanks! <3!
Man: <3!

Also, I was watching that series with Alyssa Milano (nice boobs), the one where they're all witches, I forget the name, and she didn't know how to tell her boyfriend that she was a witch. Finally he found out and he freaked out.
He: Oh my God Alyssa, you're a witch!
Alyssa: Yeah, I know. Sorry!
He: Omgomgomgomg, how could you do this to me, despite your nice boobs! I have a serious problem coping with this, oddly!
Alyssa: But look! I can pull rabbits out of hats!
He: I can never forgive you!
Alyssa: (Cries)
Alyssa: Wow, hey, my boobs ARE nice. I shall play with them a bit.

I mean, what the fuck is wrong with these people. If my girlfriend was a witch, I'd get her to spawn two top models and some sex toys and give me two more dicks or something. These people really should lighten up a bit and have fun. Oh, and another thing that pisses me off, WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH PEOPLE AND PHONES? Why does everyone turn retarded when they speak into one? By the way, do you Americans never say bye when you're on the phone? Conversations on the phone are like this:
Person 1: Meaningless stuff.
Person 2: Response to meaningless stuff.
Person 1: OK, I'll take care of it.
Person 2: (Hangs up)

Have you never heard of something called etiquette? At least we say bye or something when we're going to hang up. Is that an American thing, or just in movies? And, to get back to my original point, HOW CAN PEOPLE NOT UNDERSTAND WHEN THE OTHER PERSON HANGS UP?! Consider this:
Person 1: Sorry about sleeping with your sister, honey.
Person 2: (Hangs up)
Person 1: (Hears a deafening continuous tone signifying that the other person has hung up) Hello? HELLO? HELLO OMG PLEASE RESPOND WHERE ARE YOU ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME WHAT HAS HAPPENED OMG PLEASE TALK TO ME oh she hung up.
No shit, genius! That's why that tone is there, why do they wonder what happened when they can hear the fucking thing? Or do they think that the other person is humming and they're trying to get them to talk to them? It's just stupid.
Also, on a somewhat totally unrelated note, why do women sign letters to people that answer that shit as Clueless? That's so fucking stupid, if you're clueless you shouldn't be alive. You should learn the basics about living and then go on to writing letters. Use Has a clue but wants more, for fuck's sake. It doesn't even makes sense, and what's more, it sounds like you're retarded. Oh wait, how fitting. Forget I said anything.
By the way, women: Say yes to weird sex stuff!

Today was a really sandy day. And I don’t mean sandy in the way you might think, I mean sandy as there was a lot of sand in the air. You couldn’t see the sun, and the entire sky was glowing yellow. All that sand comes from Africa, a strong wind blows, and whee, Crete gets all the damn Sahara sand (it’s true, look at this NASA image). So, I thought, like hell I’m going out there today, fuck that, but then a friend called at about 9 pm and told me if I wanted to go to the movies. I thought, sure, I don’t have anything better to do, and it’s a bit windy, so the sand and all the camels should have floated somewhere else by now, so I went.
We didn’t know what to watch, and the choices were Collateral, the movie with Nicole Kidman and her 10-year-old husband, and the one with Salma Hayek (HOT). We decided to watch Collateral, because it had the shortest title and I was too lazy to pronounce the other ones.
Needless to say, seeing Cruise and the word COLLATERAL in huge letters in the poster, we were expecting an action movie. The movie started out with a taxi driver (the only good taxi driver in LA, it seems) who drove Jada Pinkett Smith (HOT) to her work or whatever. After driving her and getting her phonenumber (smooth), Tom Cruise exits the building and talks to the cab man, who, engrossed in Jada’s card as he was, fails to notice him. Tom seeks another ride, but the dude snaps out of his Nirvana and calls out to Tom saying that he would drive him and that he was just being absent-minded.
As the two characters ride around town, (and with the help of the unparalelled directing of Michael Mann) their stories unravel in a slow yet pleasurable fashion. We discover that Max (the taxi driver) has dreams of starting his own limousine company and that Vincent is a successful yet lonely hired assassin, who is a hollow shell of a man, completely devoid of emotions. On this long night, however, the two characters are about to embark on a journey into the nocturnal LA and into their lives.
Vincent offers Max six hundred dollars to hire him for the night, and Max reluctantly agrees. Vincent goes to his first target’s room and kills him, dropping him on Max’s taxi. Max is shocked at this and attempts to flee, but Vincent holds him hostage and makes him drive him around to the other four targets. During this time, we get an in-depth view of the alienation and hatred in modern cities, as well as learn more about the characters. Vincent, having been raised in an institution and by a drunkard father, has a very cynical view of the world, while Max is the exact opposite (or is he?).
The action scenes in this movie were not your typical Hollywood scenes, with guns blazing left and right, and the plot was not filled with the usual stereotypes. Max (who was black) did not particularly know or like jazz, while Vincent (who was white) was a connoiseur. Vincent takes Max to a jazz club and buys him a drink, also killing the owner while they’re there.
The movie’s pace begins to pick up when they go to a nightclub to get the next target, but the police have been following them. This is the part where Vincent FUCKS EVERYONE’S SHIT UP! He goes into the club, twists the heads of a few policemen, shoots a few more (all of this in a realistic manner), and busts a cap right in the Chinese dude’s head. This part seriously kicks reprehensible amounts of ass. It’s like, awesome. His training is through the roof, he fucks everyone up, he kills like, a lot of clubbers and most of the cops, and saves Max’s life too.
Then there’s the other part where he has to go off that chick that Max met, and Max has to stop that, so he kicks a cop’s ass and runs to catch Vincent. They meet in the building, bullets flying all over the place, they shoot each other in the ass and Vincent gets one in the ear. They run off to a subway where Vincent hops onto the train, James Bond-style and kicks everyone’s ass on there too. The power in the train goes out and Max and Vincent just start to shoot each other right in the face man, but noone hits anything, stupid bastards. The power comes back on but they’re both out of ammo, so they sit to talk about it. Unfortunately, Vincent dies because Max has shot him.
Seriously, this movie was AWESOME. It kicked so much ass, I kicked two old people and a kid IN THE FACE right after we left (OK, it was just a poster of two old people and a kid, but still, I KICKED IT RIGHT IN THE FACE). It’s worth all 7 EUR and then some more for the popcorn and shit. It kicks so much ass, it’s crazy. Tom Cruise is the shit with the gray suit and gray hair and everything, and he TOTALLY FUCKS EVERYONE’S SHIT UP. Jada is always hot, and the taxi dude is nice too. If you’re a lame action-boy you probably shouldn’t watch it, because you won’t be able to get through all the talk (which promotes the characters nicely), so you better just go see Harry Potter or some shit like that instead. For everyone else, GO SEE THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW.
The best thing about the movie is that it’s realistic, not some shit where people are within two meters of each other and shoot uzis and bazookas and flames out of their asses and they don’t even hit anything. Vincent totally rocks, he has an accuracy ratio of 245.87%. He kills people without even using bullets, he is THAT GOOD.
Enough blabbering, this movie rocks. Go watch it.

Dear Hollywood,

I have recently filled my spare time by watching some of your movies. The quality if your product is unsurpassable, and I applaud you for that. However, I would like to raise a few concerns I had with the veracity of many of your films.

Issue #1: Girls at university

I was led to believe by many of your movies that the moment that a woman of the female gender stepped onto a college campus she was overcome with sexual desire and would have intercourse with anything moving. However, I was quite shocked to find that many women at my university do not want to have sex with me. Here is a sample conversation to illustrate my point:

Me: Hello
Girl: Hi
Me: Would you like to have some sex?
Girl: No thank you

As you can see, this exchange went contrary to your frequent portrayal of college girls in movies. I would ask that you either a) write a strongly-worded letter to women everywhere requesting that they fall in line or b) pay for my tuition and board at the University of Western Ontario so that I may meet some college girls who know how to behave.

Issue #2: Exams

Operating under the impression given to me in several films, I refused to study for any of my exams until the very last minute. I had been assured by many films (such as religious film Van Wilder) that, provided I had the requisite amount of pluckiness, I would succeed on all of my finals with flying colours. I had my blood tested and concluded that my pluck level was 30 mg/L, more than 3 times the national average. I also found out I was a pregnant 90 year-old zebra, but this is beside the point.

Much was my surprise when I got my exam results and I had failed nearly every single course. I felt that I had taken the necessary precautions (playing appropriately themed music, flashing back to humorous anecdotes, providing a montage of time passing) to ensure my success, but I did not achieve it, much to my shock and dismay.

Issue #3: The line between 'cute’ and 'scary’

I had a romantic interest in a certain female of the opposite sex and, since I had already learned that requesting sex invariably meets with mixed results (e.g. pepper spray), I proceeded to write volumes of gushy poetry about her. 'Surely’ thought I 'not ALL things in Hollywood movies are false’. Alas, it was not as I imagined. Upon presenting my book of poetry, penned in blood and other bodily fluids, she did not immediately melt into my arms. Undaunted, I recited a speech containing such gems as “I can’t live without you” “You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before I climax” and the ever popular “I want to be on you”. She responded NOT with “Take me now, you sensitive yet masculine specimen” but words I did not quite understand, like “I don’t even know who you are” and “my dad is a lawyer” and “How did you get into my bedroom?” I need not tell you, I was once again most confused. The police were unsympathetic.

And so I conclude this letter with a simple request. Please make your movies more like life really is, or change life to fit your movies. Also, please make a sequel to the Super Mario Brothers movie, as I felt that it was a genre that deserved much more exploration. Thank you.