Muse @ Wembley, September 10th, 2010- A Review

F*cking Flawless.

Toy Story 3 Review - the game continues...

Watching the almost deliriously excited faces (even beneath the 3D glasses) on the crowds of young and old piling through the cinema doors, giant buckets of popcorn overflowing and gallons of oversweet, fizzy soft drinks at the ready, it’s clear that expectations are high for the latest and grand finale of the epic Toy Story saga. And so it would seem that Pixar - the hailed masters of the computer animation innovation - are really going to have their work cut out for them to top their previous achievements yet again.
But of course, this is Pixar we are talking about and they have never been one to turn down a unique film-delight making challenge (just consider those extra little pleasures such as ‘WALL-E’, ‘Up’ and ‘Ratatouille’). And so, unsurprisingly, all expectations of these animator greats have yet again been taken ‘to infinity, and beyond’ (sorry, couldn’t resist…), and the long wait justified as what could arguably be the best Toy Story yet has finally been catapulted onto our screens with a huge dose of Pixar magic.
With an eleven year gap since the Toy Story 3’s predecessor - Toy Story 2 - was released in 1999, and fifteen years since the original phenomenon in 1995 empowered our lives - and whole way of regarding our toys – it couldn’t be more fitting to find Woody, Buzz, and the rest of the individually hilarious and lovable gang also feeling the pressures of time.
And with time, of course, comes the matter of growing up and dealing with the natural changes that go with it – a subject handled in a somewhat beautifully relatable and emotional way by Pixar. After an explosive opening at the hands of Andy’s childhood imagination, time whisks past until the audience joins a now 17-year-old Andy about to go off to college. As the familiar ‘clear out’ takes place, and the “junk” sorted from that to be put in storage, a mistake is made and our favourite toys find themselves being donated to Sunnyside Day Care – a place, according to the centre’s chief strawberry - scented teddy bear , Lotso, where abandoned toys can find happiness, and never be unwanted again.
Of course, if things were this simple, it would be a pretty boring finale, and soon the toys find that Sunnyside isn’t quite the toy haven they initially anticipated. With bundles of new, rather delightful characters including a hysterically camp Ken, thespian hedgehog Mr Pricklepants, and slightly disturbing Big Baby, it eventually comes down to the determination of our favourite cowboy and his merry companions to put things right again – an outcome that is often questioned in this dramatic and highly emotive final instalment.
Whilst this widely acclaimed ‘adult kids movie’ tackles ‘adult’ themes of mortality, rejection, and change, it is also superbly balanced with a whole load of the usual ‘kiddy’ gags, silliness, (Spanish, salsa dancing Buzz is simply genius…) adventure, and morals that makes Toy Story so appealing to so many different people. And what’s more, it’s the kind of film which seems to create a neighbourly feel amongst all. Just as there was not a sullen face to be seen walking into the cinema (not even from the cinema staff…) there was neither one to be found coming out. Instead, warm knowing looks and beaming smiles were passed around the blinking viewers as they emerged from the darkness, animated chatter boomed through the foyer, and bursts of laughter could be heard all the way down to the car park as particular lines were remembered and (almost) repeated exactly. A unique and happy atmosphere just as I remember it - from fifteen years ago.
As well as the irrefutable feeling of exhilaration and intense desire to do it all over again as you step away from the Toy Story roller coaster that will undoubtedly go down as one of the best film trilogies ever, there is no avoiding the sadness. The fusion of a tear-jerker ending, and knowledge that this really is the last ride - so to speak (as far as we know at this point anyways…) - works as a crashing realisation – particularly for those who have grown-up alongside the films - that maybe it really is time to put the toys down and finally embrace adulthood.

- But then of course there will always be the trilogy box set to watch with our children and grand-children, and great-grandchildren forever more.
Let’s face it; playtime will never really be over.

RATING: FIVE STARS

'Lohan Phone Home...'

Anyone else watch ‘Lindsay Lohan’s Indian journey’ the other night? Oh, it was painful. Note to Lindsay Lohan’s CV constructor – remove ‘journalist’ section… (and actually maybe also ‘actress’ whilst you’re at it..,oh, and ‘singer’… – best stick with stuff you know she’s good at – like looking emaciated).
Poor old Lohan hasn’t had the best stories in the media recently. Falling out of clubs into cactus patches, indecently revealing yourself at fashion shows and looking like you may either break in half or just float away (oh yes please…) just doesn’t bring in the film roles apparently. Well slap me up with a feathered hat and call me Charlie.
So what did the clever girl go and do to solve her woes? A documentary of course! (Ok cool…) In India (Hmm, I see where this is going…), with abused children (surprise surprise…told you I knew where this was going…), where the situation reaches such an emotional climax that Mother Lohan breaks down, sobbing whilst cradling a small, slightly bewildered child on her lap (The child was probably thinking ‘you were ok a second ago when the camera wasn’t rolling…?’).
‘The Mean Girls’ actress - which despite being a film she did in 2004 is still the one she is always referred against (now what does that say…) - certainly made a poignant point with her work. Celebrities who are skinnier than the poverty stricken and devastatingly hard-up people they interview in places like India and Africa, should either immediately donate all food they refuse to eat for their glamour purposes – or the money they no doubt save from not having to buy food – to these people, and more importantly; KEEP WELL AWAY BECAUSE THEY LOOK REVOLTING AND EMPHASISE HOW STUPID THEY REALLY ARE.
You can imagine the conversation, “Oh no thank you, no emergency supplies for me! I am not one of the victims silly! I am Lindsay Lohan! I look like this because it looks cool in the fashion world and means that I can not only hang out with people like Paris Hilton or Nicole Ritchie who despite being equally as rich as I, are also equally as skeletal, but it also means I can get away with buying hardly any clothes! In a material sense I mean – I spend thousands and literally get hardly anything as there is nothing to cover! Those clever designers and their ‘let’s trick people into thinking its fashionable to have no body mass’ ways…man, they are raking it in right now…”
Furthermore, Lohan was crap. Not only did she arrive into India after all the action had gone down (raids to save the trafficked children and bring them back to their parents) which no doubt ended up having to be covered by a real professional…she asked poor questions, looked uncomfortable, particularly bog eyed and alien-like (I’m thinking this is maybe a starvation thing? Although the children looked considerably healthier than her…!) and completely fake and delirious within her emotions. If it was an act, it was poor. If it was real – she really needs to work on how she presents herself to other people, as she REALLY gives the wrong impression.And that's so unlike Lindsay...
Lastly, a game for the saved children arranged by Lohan! Ohh, the excitement - what could it be? Stuck in the mud maybe? ‘It’? Perhaps some classic ball kicking or Frisbee throwing? Maybe she’s brought Monopoly?
But no. Instead, a fav I think of Miss Lohan's, the ‘take pictures of me’ game. That’s right, she bought out a camera and let the children take photos, of her. Whoa…the fun… Sure, I am certain it was very exciting for the one child that got to participate in the game. However, for the hundreds that had to stand around that child and look as though they were enjoying themselves – now THAT was acting – Lohan, take notes.
So my final opinion on the whole sorry affair (for the children I mean, who had to put up with yet more of this celebrity sh*t), Lindsay Lohan, phone home. Ask them to send your private jet to collect you and leave. And never, ever return.

(You can still check out this documentary on the BBC iPlayer: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00rvbtl/b00rvbtg/Lindsay_Lohans_Indian_Journey/ - Just do it for the sheer amusement. And who knows, you may accidentally even learn something...)

Film Review: 'Kick Ass' kicks ass – and a whole load more…

So… I think I’m still suffering shock from last nights viewing of the newly released hugely controversial, action-packed, violent, non-stop superhero mayhem that is Kick Ass. I certainly feel like I’ve received a whopping, that’s for sure…

But strangely – in a good way. Nothing could have prepared me for this commendably original, entertaining gore-fest (if such a thing exists…) fighting frenzied, action thriller romantic comedy. That’s right; it’s a film that has pretty much succeeded in covering every genre – quite an achievement alone one might say.

And what’s more – it’s genius. The story works (surprisingly) brilliantly - especially considering it is ultimately about a geek kid living his superhero fantasy (something you may think you’ve heard of before, but trust me, Kick Ass is QUITE different…). With an intelligent and insightful reflection on how the whole celeb/internet flurry can begin from a kid with a video phone, to a believable take on how normal individuals - ok, perhaps ‘normal’ isn’t the right word - but how some of the more imaginative people in society may just think heck, why not check out life as a superhero? And actually go through with it, the film has a structure that’s easy to follow and most importantly, is enjoyable – the simple basics that so many films seem to lack nowadays.

Additionally, the characters are strong. No, more than that, they are extreme. And yet, they are also relatable, built up in such a fashion that you care about them even despite the violence they may have just inflicted and the many people they may have just massacred (and that certainly takes some doing…). Without a doubt it is superhero wannabes Big Daddy (Nicholas Cage) and his young daughter Hit Girl (Chloe Moretz) who steal the film with their hilarious anecdotes and contrary blood-filled, highly skilled, synchronised fight sequences- even despite the debate about the necessity of the foul language that pours out of the younger super.

Are the critics right in saying it should be rated 18 not 15? – Possibly. Are the critics right in saying it is inappropriate to have a 11-year-old assassin as one of the main protagonist’s? Again, quite possibly. The fact is this film is gore, gore, gore, backed up with comedy, action, controversy, ultra-violence, drama, and some more gore. And then, possibly, a sprinkling of more gore – you get the picture right? But it’s great – and justice cannot be made through words alone. You’ll just have to go and check it out for yourselves…just be ready for the gore…

Chinese Tiger Swap

"Shenyang zoo has been closed after the deaths of 11 Siberian tigers and allegations of supplying the illegal tiger-bone trade"

Ooh no China, why oh why do you do things like this?! Especially to tigers. Not tigers, please. They are my most favourite of all the animals, the coolest of the cats, the smartest of the striped... Well, I would guess anyways - just think of the competition, zebras, and err..zebras..(hang on..) ok, after a little googling, there are also skunks and hyenas of course (who obviously have nothing on the tiger), bugs and fish (who obviously have nothing on anything) and even apparently you can get striped squirrel type things – whoever knew? Kinda funky actually, but still - not a tiger. Anyways, I am diverting…Basically, this is very distressing, especially when you finally manage to get past the gloomy starved tiger image and actually read the article which explains that actually this "zoo" keeps tigers often to sell their bones to local "doctors" to brew up some nice traditional medicines(hmm, note to self, if ever in China, remember nurofen tablets…)So yes, tiger tonic anyone? Oooh,or even some of the tiger bone wine the zoos website boasts about (I would guess a great accompaniment to any game dish?). Of course, it didn't stop there. Why waste good skin, carcass, teeth, eyes, penises etc etc? They all have their unfortunate uses. So instead of buying food for the animals (pfft, who would be so stupid?), money was spent on freezers (but of course!), needed to keep the remnants of a once beautiful animal at a safe consumer temperature until their required use. Brilliant. Genius. Nice. But hang on, has anyone never thought of trying Chinese bones in traditional medicine? Chinese bone wine? Chinese teeth, eyes and so forth? I know it’s not very ethical, but just think, there are a damn load more Chinese than tigers, therefore the long scale business prospects would be far greater right? Mainly though of course, it would surely make them think twice about such disgusting, cruel practices…so…would d’ya reckon?

(Ok, so I am not actually suggesting the farming of Chinese people. Trust me, I know and like many Chinese people. Maybe just give the ones involved with this type of thing a little scare…).

(Here's the link to the original article:http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/mar/17/chinese-zoo-tiger)

What's wrong with making friends?

Whilst stumbling home from a long days work the other night (damn my blister inflicting shoes and their menacing ways…), I was faced with an interesting scenario that got me thinking about those unwritten rules which seem to unconsciously control our society. Allow me to explain. Being about 6pm and England, it was of course dark. Yet the streets were bustling with people coming home from their Saturday activities, and hence I felt there was no real cause for any alarm about my walking home alone, despite the minimal light situation. So there I was, deep within my own trivial thoughts about how I was sure I’d forgotten to put the condiments on one of the tables in my section, and wished I hadn’t made that, what I considered at the time “hilarious” joke to table 40, when I became aware of somebody present behind me. A man. A big man. I started to feel uncomfortable.
Now, whether this is a good or bad thing, I am certainly by no means an over-precautious being. I often eat off my knife, I sometimes take another paracetamol before the four hour safety time gap, and I regularly eat fruit and vegetables without washing them first (which I know some might find disgusting, but I will always defend as significantly time saving). You might basically say I like to live on the wild side. However, despite this, during my twenty-four years and numerous travelling experiences, I have learnt that it always pays off to be aware of your surroundings, and be ready to protect yourself should the circumstances call for immediate defensive action. And so, in response to my “friend” following close behind, I ingeniously moved my hand over my work wine bottle opener located in the front pocket of my handbag, ready for battle. What exactly I intended to do with it should I be attacked fortunately didn’t need to be determined this time, but the point is, I was prepared.
So you can imagine my surprise when even despite my careful discreetness as I prepared myself for the worst with the quickening of my pace, the constant checking over my shoulder, the getting ready to cross to the other side, the weapon in my hand… that the man somehow rapidly clocked on to my alert, and calmly called to me in a friendly Caribbean accent, ‘Ahh don’t worry! I am just passing you!”
“Oh…err..yea…I know!” I reply with a mortified but I think, effective laugh, “I was, err…just…err….” Thinking thank god its dark and you can’t see my blushes of embarrassment if I was to be honest with you dear reader! I felt instantly ashamed to have believed that this nice man would be the end of me that chilly Saturday eve…
“Are you coming back from work?” He politely asked, breaking the increasingly tense silence that had consumed as I tried to think of a plausible reason for my grabbing of the wine bottle opener…
“Ah yes! Yes! Coming back from work! Yes! Busy day – am glad it’s over! Phew! Yea, really pleased, can just chill out at home, relax, eat…” I said, totally over-compensating for my previous failure. There is another pause whilst I think of something to ask back, “So..how about you? You, err…have you had a good day?” Ok, so it wasn’t brilliant, but it sufficed.
And so began a somewhat, I have to admit, pleasant conversation that Saturday night as I walked home from work. Who ever knew my potential attacker could be so interesting? His actual name (rather than ‘potential attacker’) was Ken, he was from Trinidad, was staying here for a year while he studied and worked, it was his first time to England, he thought it was very cold, but he thought the people were considerably warmer. As I said, it was a highly pleasant moment.

But then, the tone of the conversation changed. “What are you doing tonight?’”He asked me.
Alert! Alert! Alert! Game over buddy! This guy was obviously trying to hit on me, it was obviously my duty to lead him off the track, it was obviously time to end this new found friendship.
“Ahh, actually, tonight I am very busy you see. I have lots of work to do and then there’s my boyfriend. Did I mention him before? Yes, my boyfriend. Well he’s coming round later, so yes, very busy night tonight I’m afraid...with my boyfriend.”
“Oh ok. No problem. How about lunch sometime then?”
Whaaat?!! Did he not hear the bit about my boyfriend?! This was going to be harder than I thought…
“No, no, I err, think I’ll be busy…” I mumble.
“What? When? All the time? All week?” He asks confused.
“Erm, yes, exactly. I am a very busy person you see…” boy was that hole getting bigger at this point eh, did it suddenly get hotter out here or was it just me?
He looks at me in a slightly offended way. Aw crap I think, now I am a bad person. I decide to come clean;
“Ok, well the truth is its not really appropriate. Not with me having a boyfriend and everything…”
“Why?” He asks, “Would he mind?”
“Yes” I say, almost compulsively. There is another pause.
“Well, ok then! I only wanted a tour guide, someone to tell me a bit more about the place but hey, I understand! It was nice to meet you Vicky! Take care now! Apologies to your boyfriend if I offended him in anyway! ” And with that, my new Trinidadian friend Ken was gone, out of my life forever, our 20minutes of getting to know each other time is well and truly over.

I felt almost bewildered by the sudden change of events as I stood, in the dark, on that street corner, trying to make sense of it all. I wondered to myself, would Tom (my boyfriend) have really minded? No, probably not. He would have been concerned, in the same way that I initially was, worried that it wouldn’t be safe, but no, he wouldn’t have minded in a jealous boyfriend type way. And this is what I mean about the unwritten, unconscious rules of our society. Firstly, a) always assume that any male stranger – particular if foreign – poses a threat. Be suspicious if they are nice, and always assume the worst. b) If they wish to continue the friendship – there is something wrong. They either want to hit on you, rob you or kidnap you and hold you up for ransom, there simply is no other sufficient explanation.

Yet, despite this, I truly believe that good old Ken just wanted a bit of friendly company from a local in the area, someone who could help him out. I don’t believe he meant me any harm, nor had any sexual intentions, just wanted to be mates. And yet, I had dismissed him, point blank, because I just knew it wasn’t the “done thing” in our society to meet up with a foreign men you’d met on the walk home for lunch, it just wasn’t considered safe, or, more importantly, sane. Yet, I know from my travels that this is a perfectly normal scenario in many countries, I suspect it is a normal scenario in Trinidad. The fact is, in England, we are always taught to think and expect the worst from people, whereas in other countries – say Australia – they are taught to think and expect the best of people. For example, in Australia, when someone comes on an empty bus they sit next to you and say hello, rather than, as we would in England, sitting as far away as possible, making sure at all costs that no eye contact is made (let’s face it, we’d be dialling 999 if they actually had the audacity to sit NEXT to you, they must be a crazy person right?!).

It's sad really, isn’t it?

Happy new, New Year!

So, I wanted to take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy new, New Year. No, I am not suffering from a severe head trauma nor have been in a coma for the last month (though looking back that may have been somewhat preferable…), and do indeed realise that it is the second week of February and hence the sixth week of 2010. However, this is exactly why again, I wish to wish you all a very happy new, New Year. For today I feel able for the first time this year to think about something other than work, going to the library or working at the library (oh how fun the third year of a uni degree is, oh yeeees...). And though I by no means am cool, calm and collected in regards to the workload still to tackle before me, I am thrilled to announce that for the last few nights - the first few of the year so far – I was able to not only go to bed at a decent hour (by decent I mean anywhere before 3am…), but also able to grant the allowance of the changing of my clothes into pyjamas (for I have discovered that like a small child with a favourite soft toy, my person takes ridiculous superficial comfort from pyjamas and falls swiftly to sleep in their presence – something that obviously must be avoided at all costs during the deadline death weeks…), and - even more excitingly – I have been able to switch off my bedroom light at night to place my room into complete darkness. That’s right, I don’t even leave my table lamp on to coax myself back into productive work mode after a wee energy reviving slumber. No. Over the last few nights I have been able to go to bed… like normal person.
So hence, after the weeks of hell that have just been endured, New Years starts today. Only now can I tackle those resolutions that I so devotedly made (oh c’mon! When exactly did I have time over the last few weeks to buy and prepare those gourmet healthy nutritious meals I swore to deliver every eve? Or jog those ten miles to happiness every other day?!) From now on, things can only get better and the year be a success, its uphill all the way (excluding jogging routes, downhill is far easier…). Goodbye quicky co-op less nutritious somewhat easier to make meal stops, hello fresh fruit and veg how could I ever have lived without you before attitude. A ten mile jog? Pffft, why not make it twenty? Yes, 2010 begins now. Though…shame that it’s a bit late to call it an early night…and there’s really no point calling it a night just yet when there’s so much other stuff I could be getting on with….and what about the weather forecasting snow again tomorrow? Such a factor would obviously, for safety reasons, cancel out any outdoor activity type plans… And oh! What about that left-over birthday cake that’s in the fridge – surely I wouldn’t just chuck that away when there are so many who would kill for a bit of buttercream icing? Hmm… perhaps March would be a better beginning of the year type month instead…