The Hobbit: The Battle Of The Four Armies And A Handful Of BASTARDING EAGLES

Image not necessarily representative of film

Even a Star Wars Prequel Trilogy apologist like me is well aware of George Lucas' shortcomings in his handling of Episodes I, II and III, but you know what he didn't do over the course of six films? He didn't have characters facing certain doom, only for them to be rescued at the last moment by a bunch of giant birds who didn't feature anywhere else in the story. And what's more, he didn't do that THREE FUCKING TIMES. For this reason, and many more, Lucas can breathe a massive sigh of relief: he is no longer the director of the most disappointing prequel trilogy of all time.

Nope, that honour now belongs to Peter Jackson, who claimed he knew exactly what he was doing when he inflated JRR Tolkien's slim children's book, The Hobbit, into what currently stands at over eight and a half hours of mediocre, mope-ridden melodrama spread over three movies, with more to come when the final instalment's extended edition arrives on DVD and Blu-ray next year. In comparison, the eleven and a half hour running time of the extended versions of Jackson's majestic The Lord Of The Rings trilogy feel like they pass by in the flap of a dragon's wing.

You're not the only one checking your watch, pal

The Hobbit's first two parts, An Unexpected Journey and The Desolation Of Smaug, were just about acceptable for returning us to Jackson's gorgeous vision of Middle-earth and for featuring a handful of bravura sequences, but they both felt like what they essentially were: pale imitations of The Lord Of The Rings films. Now that The Battle Of The Five Armies is upon us, it's hard not to take Jackson's Middle-earth for granted and hope that we might at last get some rollicking action and characters to care about.

But no. Of his two lead characters, Jackson is never quite sure in whom his film is less interested; both Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield are one-dimensional pieces on a game board. Other characters fare just as badly: the heroic Bard The Bowman is sub-Aragorn blandness personified; Legolas exists only to pull off some obviously CG-enhanced elfrobatics; Gandalf has none of the self-doubt that made him a flawed superhero in The Lord Of The Rings, and after three films of watching thirteen short, hairy dudes grunting at each other, I STILL found myself looking at a couple of the dwarfs with the distinct certainty that I'd never clapped eyes on them before.

As for the tedious, tacked-on threesome between Kili the dwarf, Tauriel the Jackson-invented elf and Legolas, was there ever a more obvious, less successful attempt to widen a film's appeal? It's all very well shoving in a kick-ass action heroine to balance the testosterone, but to then a) make her the fulcrum of one of cinema's most insipid love triangles ("You make me feel alive," Kili actually whimpers out loud at one point) and b) require her to be rescued by BOTH of her potential suitors within five minutes is a colossal foot-shot.

It does, however, make for some exquisite fan art.

The Battle Of The Five Armies isn't a total disaster. It boasts a couple of sequences almost worth the price of a ticket: the opening assault on Laketown by a vengeful Smaug is fiery fun, and a scrap in which Galadriel, Saruman and Elrond smack down against the spectral Nazgûl is reminiscent of the excited spirit of Jackson's The Frighteners. But both scenes fail to really set the screen on fire, even the one in which everything else goes up in smoke.

And there's so much rubbish here that it's easy to forget anything that threatens to tip the scales beyond average. Billy Connolly voices a dwarf - atrociously realised with CG for no obvious reason - who has a Scottish accent, ginger hair and who dispatches foes with a crunching headbutt, firmly placing him in the Jar Jar Binks school of unfortunate stereotypes. Meanwhile, in a less successful retread of the ill effects on Frodo's personality caused by the One Ring, Thorin turns greedy, selfish and miserable because he can't find the lost Sankara Stone, but becomes all happy and cuddly again after going for a stroll and having a little think about it. And then there are the Giant Worm Things. Mentioned ominously by the orcs as terrifying, earth-eating beasts, we await their arrival with the hope of something thrilling, and when they do appear - in one spectacular, seat-shaking, presumably phenomenally expensive shot, they are terrific. No doubt the orcs will use them to tunnel under and into the mountain fortress guarded by our plucky heroes? Well, no actually. That's the last we'll see of them, and their existence is never referred to again.

As for the titular battle, well, you can't help but think you've seen it all done better before. Hordes of indistinct pixels, scrappily and bloodlessly going for each other with no clear sense of who's fighting who - except perhaps Beorn the skin-changer, whose lengthy and pointless scene in The Desolation Of Smaug suggested a fuller role in this film, rather than the six or so seconds he's afforded in the 45-minute climax. And when the fifth army show up out of nowhere, unapologetically and inexplicably late in the day, you just know that nobody was willing to turn to Peter Jackson and say "Hey Pete, you think maybe we should NOT have the fucking eagles save the day for once?"

Look at these smug, winged cunts.

Crucially, of all the extraneous crap Jackson has stuffed into this trilogy, the one thing he's left out - which Tolkien's book had in abundance - is fun. The Battle Of The Five Armies is so painfully, po-facedly glum and gloomy that for all the joy you'll experience you may as well buy your ticket then stand out by the cinema bins in the rain for 144 minutes. Even then you'll care just as much as anyone who sits through the movie about why Azog the Orc-bastard wants Thorin dead or why Bilbo ever went on this baffling mission in the first place. In fact, why not use the time to watch something else instead, like Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace? At least that's got Jar Jar Binks in it.

Award-Winning Idea #219

Having recently endured enjoyed the SingalongaGrease experience at London's Prince Charles Cinema, it occurred to me that there are massive gaps in the market for further interactive movie experiences in which cinema audiences can join in with the on-screen fun from the comfort of their seats.

And so, without further attempt to explain why I bothered with any of this, here are eleven suggestions for the future of cinema. All ideas are © Me so don't even think about it.

MumblelongaTrueGrit

Every time Jeff Bridges opens his mouth, the entire audience mumbles along incoherently, with helpful subtitles and a bouncing ball.

Any patrons who want a taster of what this experience might be like should watch live coverage of the House Of Commons.

RemovafacealongaMission:Impossible2

On entering the screening, each audience member is given several full face masks to put on. Each time an actor removes their face in the film, the audience does too. Special care must be taken to ensure each patron has enough masks and does not inadvertently remove their own face.

AmnesialongaMemento

Audiences at this event will be able to join in the fun by having the last ten minutes of their memory wiped at ten-minute intervals in order to truly immerse them in the world of Memento's protagonist, Leonard. When they leave the cinema they'll have no idea where they are or why they're there but will be only too happy to watch it again.

BustaballsalongaGoodFellas

Every time a character makes reference to balls being busted and/or broken, audience members must bust the balls of their neighbour. This can be done with repeated verbal needling or, if it's Robert De Niro doing the complaining, customers are entitled to physically break the balls of whoever they wish. Screenings are to be held in venues with nearby A&E facilities.

DisappointalongaPhantomMenace

Whenever an audience member is disappointed by an annoying moppet or let down by an atrocious CGI character, they must themselves trample on the hopes and dreams of a loved one. A pre-screening demonstration will show patrons how to rape someone else's childhood or stamp on the toes of a friend's fondest memories.

FalsendingalongaReturnOfTheKing

Every time it looks like the final Lord Of The Rings film is ending, the entire audience picks up their coat and bags and shuffles politely out of the auditorium, into their cars and drives home. Just as they're getting into bed they are phoned by the cinema and told they have to come back to see the rest of the film. This happens with every potential ending. Screenings are expected to last approximately two days.

FightalongaFightClub

The Rules Of FightalongaFightClub

First Rule: You do not talk about FightalongaFightClub.

Second Rule: Every time a character fights, the audience must fight too.

Third Rule: If someone goes for a wee or some more nachos, FightalongaFightClub is over.

Fourth Rule: The entire audience must fight each other.

Fifth Rule: Multiple fights at a time are compulsory.

Sixth rule: No shirts, no shoes. You too, fellas.

Seventh Rule: FightalongaFightClub will go on as long as it has to.

Eighth Rule: If this is your first time at FightalongaFightClub, bring your last will and testament.

RepeatalongaGroundhogDay

Groundhog Day is screened without incident, but is then screened again and again, on an eternal loop. All exits will be locked to prevent escape until all audience members learn to be better people and convince Andie Macdowell to shag them.

DreamwithinadreamalongaInception

As each dream level is reached in the narrative, audiences must discover a deeper level of their own subconscious in which to have a mind-boggling action sequence. Ushers will be on hand to deliver "The Kick" if it looks like any patrons are about to die, but they'll probably be distracted by the fit girl serving the popcorn so keep one eye open. Audiences must provide their own totem.

DosomethingpointlessalongaTronLegacy

With every pointless or incomprehensible event that occurs on screen, the audience must also undertake something useless or baffling. Examples may include waving a stick around and impersonating David Bowie, delivering motivational speeches to their PCs and describing the sun as "big, round and yellow".

SurgicallyattachalongaHumanCentipede

Chloroform, handkerchiefs and sewing kits are taped under a quarter of the seats in the auditorium. If an audience member finds this goody bag, they must render three other customers unconscious at the same time that it happens in the film, and then continue to imitate the actions of the film's mad doctor. The fun really begins when detectives burst into the auditorium and start shooting.

HamalongaHopkins

In this special season of screenings of every Anthony Hopkins film, audiences must devour an entire ham every time the great man speaks, moves or thinks. If, by the end of the season, patrons are still hungry, they may begin chewing the scenery.

Shagalonga9Songs

Sorry, every screening of this has already sold out.

LOTR:ROTK@RAH

A couple of weeks ago I saw The Lord Of The Rings Colon The Return Of The King at the Royal Albert Hall, where Howard Shore's phenomenal score was performed live by the London Philharmonic Orchestra. I've said it before but I'm old so I can get away with repeating myself: there really is nothing like listening to a bastard massive orchestra banging out a brilliant film score in a venue as awesome as the Albert Hall. And I never use the word "awesome" unless I actually mean it.

Unfortunately it's very difficult to concentrate on watching an orchestra when a solid 9 out of 10 film is playing behind them. Even if you've seen it a dozen times you can't help but get sucked in to the world Peter Jackson created (yes, I'm aware that Tolkien literally created it, but Jackson made it visually astonishing), and with the music complementing the pictures so perfectly it's easy to forget the orchestra are there.

So you start to watch the orchestra, boggling at the skill that goes into playing the harp, watching the violinists' bows dancing back and forth in almost inhuman synchronisation and wishing you could have a go at whacking that massive drum, and before you know it you've missed the entire battle of Osgiliath, and you can't rewind the DVD because the orchestra would lose their place and the rest of the audience would grumble under their breath at you.

All of which makes the entire evening a bit frustrating. I felt like I'd gone to see two separate events at the same time in the same place and I didn't know which one I should be paying more attention to. Not only that, but because the music was so loud, the film played with subtitles, which was quite distracting. I don't know if it's just me but if there are subtitles I can't help but read them. It's like I might be missing something important so I have to take them all in, which inevitably means missing something important further up the screen.

Still, mustn't grumble. It was a fun evening and if they do it again you should go and tell me how wrong I am.

Incidentally, this is happening soon, also at the Albert Hall:

I saw this very event at Leeds Castle a few years ago and I can heartily recommend that you stay as far away from it as possible unless you have no idea about or love for the music of the Bond films. Basically, a man and a woman take it in turns to sing the theme songs as if they're performing Rigoletto at the Royal Opera House, completely failing to understand what it is that makes a pop song great, and towards the end the bloke actually pulls a fake gun from a shoulder holster and waves it about while murdering The Living Daylights or something. You would be far better off staying at home and listening to, say, this. Or this.

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I'm A Little Bit In Love With Karl Urban

The man who rocked a frightwig and silly helmet

better than anyone in Lord Of The Rings...

...shot lens flare from his eyes in Star Trek...

...gets his own character poster in RED...

...and who, in spectacular style, named his son

(who shares his birthday with me) Hunter...

...is about to play JUDGE DREDD.

The scowl needs work, but have faith. Kurbs Is The Law.

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The Ten Greatest Films Of The 2000s: A Statement Of Fact

The Double-0s (I refuse to call them the noughties; if you don’t know why I’m calling them the Double-0s, you're reading the wrong blog) have produced some cack and no mistake. The Brothers Grimm, Serenity, Marie Antoinette, American Dreamz, Southland Tales, Snakes On A Plane, 10,000 BC… I sob myself to sleep thinking about all those hours forever lost in time, like snot in rain.

On the other, much less despicable hand, there were some movies that quite literally made life worth living. Here are The Incredible Suit’s ten greatest films of the 2000s in chronological order, which is my favourite kind of logical.

Moulin Rouge! (2001)

Between its bookends of careening shots through the streets of turn-of-the-century Paris, Moulin Rouge! is like shoving a lit firework up your bottom and having it explode behind your eyeballs for two hours. Audacious contemporary songs and retina-terrorising production design combine with a beautiful, passionate love story to make the greatest musical, like, ever. Also Nicole Kidman is well fit, innit.

Sympathy For Mr Vengeance (2002)

Two men bent on their own courses of single-minded revenge collide in a bloody, searing and black-as-deathly comic thriller that twists and turns like a slug in salt. Like its follow-up, Oldboy, it’s unflinchingly brutal and as taut as high-tensile razor wire stretched across your peepers. And don’t even try and tell me you saw that ending coming you puckish little fibber.

The School Of Rock (2003)

One of the very few films to feature funny, likeable children, of which Jack Black is the biggest. A perfect combination of comedy and great tunes, building up to a face-melting climax that makes you simultaneously laugh and cry snot bubbles all over your air guitar. And Joan Cusack, as the principal (I think they mean headmistress), is a ladygod amongst ladyfolk.

The Lord Of The Rings: The Return Of The King (2003)

Majestic in so many ways, Peter Jackson’s unbelievable achievement reaches its climax (several of them, in fact) with the most spectacular and affecting film of the trilogy. Gollum, Shelob, The Army Of The Dead, the siege of Minas Tirith: any one of these in any other film would have been impressive. All of them in the same film is astonishing. However, there is no excuse for Annie Lennox’s horrific earhole torture over the credits.

The Incredibles (2004)

Why Pixar keep fannying about with sequels to Toy Story and Cars is beyond me, when The Incredibles has the most jaw-dropping animation, the most thrilling set pieces, the coolest music and the most identifiable characters (despite being super-powered) of any of their films, and features Samuel L Jackson’s greatest ever scene (and that’s saying something), in which he attempts to locate his costume against the wishes of his obstreperous missus.

Napoleon Dynamite (2004)

It’s not for everyone, but it is for anyone who doesn’t fit in any particular box. The quirkiest, sweetest and frankly best comedy ever, featuring the most unlikely hero and perhaps the most incisive question in movie history: “Do the chickens have large talons?” By the time Napoleon and Deb play swingball at the end my heartstrings were shedding their own tears. The film that, in a vague and uninteresting way, gave The Incredible Suit its name.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge Of The Sith (2005)

My occasional friend Brendan describes it as “a turd on the carcass of a once great franchise”, which is eloquent enough, but then predictably calls it ‘Revenge Of The Shit’. Well screw you Brendan. Opening with the most tremendous space battle since Return Of The Jedi and refusing to let up until the closing scenes, Sith may be divisive but for me concludes the prequel trilogy in an explosion of geekoramic fun.

Batman Begins (2005)

More gripping and emotionally complex than its overlong, overcomplicated sequel, Christopher Nolan gave me everything I wanted from a Batflick without me having to ask. Ferocious fight scenes, a Gotham City risen from Hell itself and a Batman who, if you met him in a dark alley, would actually make you do a poo in your trousers. Also, Michael Caine: Legendary.

Casino Royale (2006)

When I found out they were making Casino Royale I was so excited I wet myself, which was embarrassing but worth it. Martin Campbell and Daniel Craig gave the franchise the fierce kick in the face it needed, and – like Christopher Nolan the year before - delivered the very film this Bondicidal maniac needed to see. Very possibly the best 007 film ever, and I don’t use words like that lightly.

Cloverfield (2008)

Twenty minutes of zippy setup followed by fifty minutes of sheer balls-out action, nerve-shredding tension and sphincter-clenching terror, with special effects being used in exactly the correct way according to a manifesto I’ll get round to writing one day. The Incredible Suit demands a sequel. Bonus: Michael Giacchino’s theme over the end credits is an epic masterpiece.

Agree? Disagree? Couldn’t give a sith? Leave a comment here

Undead Checkout Operators

Robert Zemeckis is parping out another of his motion-capture films this Christmas. A Christmas Carol doesn’t star Jim Carrey, it stars Jim Carrey’s performance and voice. Here’s a trailer to clarify my ramblings:

I really don’t get all this motion capture stuff. It’s too close to looking photo-real to be animation but it’s not close enough to actually look real. As a result “mo-capped” (ugh) people just look like dead-eyed dolls moving in a manner unnervingly similar to humans, in much the same way as Shia LaBeouf approaches acting.

In films like The Polar Express and Beowulf, mo-cap (eurgh) has been used to capture the movements and facial features of actors like Tom Hanks, Angelina Jolie and Ray Winstone, in order to create an animated character that looks a bit like Tom Hanks, Angelina Jolie or Ray Winstone and stick them in an animated world. Am I missing something here? Why not just film these guys against a green screen and make the effort to put a realistic-looking world around them? That’s what happened in the Lord Of The Rings and Star Wars prequel trilogies, and their actors didn’t look like undead checkout operators at the end of a 10-hour shift. Well, except maybe Hayden Christensen.

As it happens Peter Jackson did use mo-cap (bleurgh) to create Gollum and King Kong from the performances of the inhumanly awesome Andy Serkis, so I suppose it does have its place, and its place is creating non-human characters, not vague approximations of humans just peculiar enough to give you nightmares. Of course Jackson has now blown his winnings by teaming up with Steven Spielberg to waste years of quality movie-making time on the Tintin films, to be filmed entirely in, yes, motion capture.

So sorry, I love Robert Zemeckis for giving us the Back To The Future trilogy, but I wish he’d stop mucking about with mo-cap (hrrreeuurrrrgghh) and get back to making proper films. You know, ones that use actual film? If he’s unsure, here’s a handy cut-out and keep guide to the difference between success and failure:

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When It Plops Out

Further to my recent post about musicals, here’s another one, except like an M Night Shyamalan film from the olden days when he was good (i.e. The Sixth Sense and… er… that’s it), there’s a clever twist! Yes viewers, this one’s about films being turned into stage musicals, and the merit, or lack thereof, thereof. Don’t blame me for poor sentence construction, that’s the English language for you.

You may or may not be aware that some satanic fiend in a dank corner of Hades is fashioning a Broadway musical based on the Spider-Man films called, bizarrely, “Spider-Man Turn Off The Dark”. Well the first thing that springs to mind is “erm, what?” and the second thing that springs to mind is “I wonder what to have for tea”, because this seems to me like such a bad idea that it warrants no further allocation of brain juice. And so that you don’t have to, let me investigate further on your behalf, metaphorically taking the bullet like Clint Eastwood in In The Line Of Fire, only marginally less grumpily.

I think what’s happened here is that the makers have spotted the recent “success” of the Lord Of The Rings stage musical and thought, “hmm, massively profitable movie franchise based on much-loved literary legend becomes bowel-looseningly expensive stage show which ran for about four performances and lost millions... we should do that again!”

Just to ensure that we all think it’s a terrible idea from the off, they’ve given it that spectacularly woeful title. I mean, just what does “Spider-Man Turn Off The Dark” mean? You can’t “turn off the dark”, even if you do have superhuman strength, the ability to cling tenaciously to any surface and a subconscious precognitive sense of danger. You can reduce the level of darkness by, say, turning on a light, but that’s nothing special. I could do that if I really concentrated.

And if that wasn’t enough to guarantee an empty house on opening night, the music is being written by Bono and The Edge. I have about a thousand words to express how I feel about that, but there isn’t room here. Fortunately a picture can speak a thousand words, so:

I ask you. He actually looks like one of those drunks who leap into the shot just as you’re about to take a nice holiday snap.

Anyway pay no attention to my rambling; fork out a small fortune to go and see it when it plops out onto a Broadway stage next February and let me know how good it is. If it’s fantastic I’ll turn green with sickness and gobble my words up. In fact, you could say I’ll be Green (and) Gobblin’! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Hmm. That doesn’t really work does it?