Alex Doenau is an Australian film and book critic based in Sydney. His interests include video games, Pokémon, and amiibos as far as the horizon.
Funny things, old people: until Children of Men happens, they’re an infinitely renewable resource. In their later years, they make movies like The Bucket List, which is impossible to watch more than twenty minutes of before giving up in disgust. Clint Eastwood is an old person who proves himself time and again worth having around. The Only Good Republicanâ„¢* strikes again with Gran Torino, a movie that shattered what little expectations I went in with.
* Disclaimer! In the immortal words of April O’Neil, “it was a joke!”
The strangest thing about the Madagascar franchise, I feel, is that the funniest jokes in both of them are Twilight Zone references … and they both happened on planes – the other strange thing is how anyone can think that the character designs of the four leads are anything approaching pleasant.
Madagascar: Back 2 Africa is not only an example of obnoxious number substituting for a word (at least Step Up 2 The Streets did it with class), it’s also a prime example of franchising a property whose title is thematically incompatible with any sequels. Even if there are more Kung Fu Panda films (freakin’ five of them), they could either make sense due to the continued presence of Po or present a series of films named for separate members of the Furious Five.
Escape 2 Africa, however, is a vaguely racist, all-over-the-place movie that once and for all proves that black people zebras all look the same and share a uniculture, and once again showcases a theatrical son whose father is disappointed he isn’t a “real lion”. Hmm indeed.
I guess it’s not terrible, though, so that’s probably something.
I made a vague resolution that 2009 would be my exciting year of reinvention, which included kicking Batrock into shape and making it a consistent and entertaining website that I can eventually use to enslave thousands of fans and get them to do my bidding. (My business model – hey, at least I could get them all astir about DRM, right?)
In the works is supposed to be 12 Months of Movies 2008, but I was a bit lax with my ticket keeping this year. I would see a movie, and eventually the ticket would make its way into my drawer. In my Arrested Development fuelled “Alex Vista” excavation of 2009, I cleared them out and entered them into Excel. 89 tickets later (that’s including both Sydney and Japanese Film Festivals), it’s not right! I can’t have seen nothing in January! I recall that, just as Bolt was my first movie of 2009, I Am Legend was my first of 2008 (preliminarily, I’m saying 2009 has set a better precedent).
In the Final Push tomorrow (or “Once More Unto the Breach”, if you will), I will attempt to liberate January and a few others besides. I mean, 2008 wasn’t 2008 without Juno, There Will Be Blood, Atonement (also a 2007 movie for me!), No Country For Old Men (again, a crossover year hit), Charlie Wilson’s War or even Kung Fu Panda. Those are just the ones I remember! This cannot rest!
I’m doing this for you, faithful reader. But seriously, you can stop holding your breath. Self-inflicted brain damage isn’t a good look.
(Good lord! Sweeney Todd is missing, too! Both times!)
No one wants to end 2008 on Bedtime Stories! So let’s celebrate the good times, and never stop believin’!
Thank you, Petra Haden. As an egg, you taught me more about life than any human ever has. See you all next year!
Today I found myself wondering “am I right to criticise these godawful children’s movies, given that I’m not in the demographic, and the children seem to enjoy them?” Then I realised that the children of this world deserve better, and I am within my rights to a tear a new one for whatever property I see fit.
Bedtime Stories is one such property: with improbably dull eyed kids who teeter between brilliance and mental incompetence, drama so manufactured that no level of suspension can contain the disbelief, a cast slumming it to the extent that they may as well have gone to work in a city of mole people, and comedy such that, were it not for the inclusion of Russell Brand, Rob Schneider would be the funniest thing in the movie, it’s simply unacceptable.
The final shots of this movie can essentially be summarised thusly:
Yep, well, looks like we have to get real jobs now.
… but we’re flying! Soaring! The tale of the first group of Wildcats draws to a close in their interminable third outing, High School Musical 3: Senior Year. If you wanted to see a musical with no memorable songs, a surprisingly almost practical approach to end-of-high-school-in-America romance, and absolutely no sexuality whatsoever, this is it.
I’m just proud that I managed to trick three people into coming along with me to observe the phenomenon.
Last year, I didn’t get farther than writing about the First Day of the 11th Japanese Film Festival. With the 12th Japanese Film Festival starting tomorrow, this situation should be remedied at once, upon my honour as a Japanese Film Festival attender.
Rest assured! I will be brought to justice! And keep in mind that this is based on a few potted sentences I wrote at the time and my vague recollections of each film. I will try with all my might not to be a revisionist historian, because I hate when people do that with movies.
This is the list of the films for last year, for reference.
It looks, my friends, like I have exhausted Fallout 3‘s usefulness. I was enjoying the character interactions – and you’ll get at least one more case study out of me in the form of Tenpenny Tower, which fairly well disembowelled me on Monday – but it seems like all of the missions I now have are in the form of “go to a ruin, fight super mutants, obtain a valuable item”. The exploration aspect of the game was initially charming, but it’s starting to drag.
This is, of course, entirely my fault. I should have paid more and proper attention to the story, rather than wondering why a tiny place like Andale has more interesting characters and stories to tell than the safest place in the world, Rivet City. An open ended game has many devious tools to distract me (and that was ironically my problem with GTA IV: it completely lacked proper or worthy distractions), and distracted I have been.
Basically, what I’m saying is after 35 hours I’m tiring of the experience. It’s all just become so much treasure hunting and I’m going to have to find Liam Neeson and save society so I can go back to watching anime, or playing … Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts. That’s right, baby! Set expectation levels to “you’d better not disappoint me, Rare, or else“!
Funny thing is, I was really keen on Oblivion at first, too, and my enthusiasm severely waned when variety gave way to monotonous trips to Hell. At least the people in Fallout 3 don’t have four different voices each. At least I’m not as invested in the whole thing as Shamus. Maybe I really am just terrible at enjoying video games now?
Having suffered a literal crash course in the mythology of Fallout, my play through of the third series is more informed by its spiritual predecessor, Oblivion, than by its more obvious antecedents. Where Oblivion’s environs were samey and boring, with needlessly twisting dungeons and insurmountably steep terrain, Fallout 3 benefits from flat, desolate lands, dotted with interesting locales. What’s more, the whole experiment has character about it, and doesn’t take itself too seriously.
Today we’ll study the case of the tiny town of Andale, proud recipient of the “Best Town” award every year … forever.
Contains spoilers for Andale, a tiny part of the game you’re not likely to see unless you look really hard!
