Alice in Wonderland

April 14, 2010

Phallus in Wonderland

Tim Burton’s wildly unimaginative approximation of the already interest-free Alice is a film experience akin to finding a lump of floating shit in the toilet of a loved one; one of disgust, disbelief and profound disappointment.

Burton’s visual landscape is bereft of any flair or beauty and his miserable attempts at backward storytelling are paper thin and nauseating. The overrated and overused Depp and Bonham-Carter are in themselves enough to warrant a refund and the petulant Wasikowska paints the ‘ heroine’ Alice as a hideously malnourished insectival wretch, but it is Matt Lucas’s odious performance as the Tweedles that truly takes the cake as the most poorly conceived, irritating and downright vomit incucing cartoon creation since the entire cast of Avatar.

Shutter Island

April 14, 2010

Shitter Island

As Leonardo Di Caprio sunk slowly out of sight into the murky ocean at the end of the hateful Titanic it was a victory for us all. And we silently prayed that by some divine intervention that it wasn’t staged, that the turgid fop really had perished in that freezing abyss, that, mercifully we had seen the last of him. Unfortunately, the irksome manchild was to star in a seemingly endless string of mediocre movies in the coming years, the most recent of which is the abominable Shutter Island.
That the film betrays its ‘twist’ ending within the first fifteen minutes means the audience is left to judge the film on its own (de)merits, of which there are strikingly few. The supporting cast is frighteningy weak and the plot holes are rife throughout, but this is of course grossly overshadowed by Di Caprio’s redundant portrayal of his ‘character’.
When the ending finally does arrive it is so laboured and insultingly drawn out that it may as well be a sequel, the obligatory ambiguous ending has about as much impact as a wet nappy and in fact just feels like a slap to the face.

R.E.M. Murmur remastered

April 12, 2010


It’s criminal that Stipe has gotten this far, the face painted cue ball of low volume college rock has been crooning his waffling sixth form poetry over watery guitar for over 20 years. Now his pockets are once again stuffed with tofu money from this utterly unneccessary series of re-releases designed to once again drown us in the man’s torrid misery. The only interest comes in the shoddy live recordings of disk 2, where future ‘classics’ are thrown out without as much as a murmur from the crowd, and as the listener you are forced to ask the question ‘why was anyone ever bothered?’

Synecdoche New York

April 12, 2010

A debilitating, headache inducing sleeping pill

Charlie Kaufman can work miracles for some people. With Being John Malkovich he created a vehicle which Cameron Diaz rode to somewhere just about approaching an actress, and allowed a slovenly, sweaty Nicholas Cage to blunder his way through not one but two forgettable parts in the disappointing Spike Jonze flick Adaptation. A film in which he reveals himself to be an egotistical, self doubting car wreck of a human being, the only type of person who could be so cruel as to bring the pitifully self indulgent mess of Synecdoche to the screen. The ‘film’ constantly begs the question why? Just what the fuck is actually happening? Its suddenly 7 years in the future? Now he’s married? Now he has pustules. Now its been 17 years, but everyone looks the same? Now nothing is going on.

Nothing.

For 2 hours I sat through this neurotic cry for euthanasia, and for that I will forever hate myself. 2 whole hours of this interminable, risible disaster. And after that I drank 2 bottles of wine and got thrown out of a nightclub because that’s what I had to do. It was the only way to deal with what I had done. The shame I had brought upon myself for propagating this man’s dismal career.

Monsters of Folk

September 22, 2009

beached_whale

Conor Oberst is a wet git. Live 5 years ago he was stoned and swimming in Bourbon, barely able to strum the simplistic chord sequences he’d thrown together on Wide awake, a record so laughably meek that it’s signature tune is now doing its rounds in bank adverts. Now he’s hanging with a new batch of blithering gas-bags, and these de-caffeinated mooks can put you to sleep even without Oberst’s expert help. Together their whining is unbearable.

Pearl Jam – Backspacer

September 22, 2009
Not to be confused with a rock band

Not to be confused with a rock band

Pearl Jam were only ever OK, surfing Nirvana’s mudslide before exploding into nothingness like Cobain’s skull fragments some time after Vs failed to enduce even a hint of passion from the public. So once again they poke their bony noses up through the earth to smell the stagnant air, sneezing out another CD shaped disappointment with it. Vedder was servicable on the ‘Into the Wild’ soundtrack with his sparse rambling, only silence would have been preferable.

Mew – No more stories…

September 17, 2009

beached_whale

This shower of chinless oafs have crafted a record so mindsplittingly passionless and stolid, so stunningly vacuous, so callously listless and so categorically underwhelming that it makes me want to cry for all humankind.

Yo La Tengo – Popular Songs

September 16, 2009

beached_whale

It’s the same old same old Yo La Tengo, same runny muesli sound; same washed up chords; same ugly, ugly people behind it. The trademark soporific Yo-La sludge were painfully used to: You’ll fall instantly asleep, but you’ll wake up caked in your own sloppy shit.

The Antlers – Hospice

September 16, 2009

Sshhhh

The Antlers are not Yo La Tengo, even if they do use the same technique of writing terrible songs, drenching them in reverb and then turning the volume way down. Death surrounds this record. Lets hope death swallows it.

Fuck Buttons – Street Horrrsing

September 16, 2009

Straight Horrrseshit. Pretentious and genuinely boring, the pathetically named Fuck Buttons have succeeded in making noise music entirely pedestrian, yet without being any more listenable for it. Pitiful dross.