The Incredible Suit’s Christmas Message

Well viewers, that’s it for this year. The Incredible Suit is packing its Incredible Suitcase and hiding away for the rest of 2009 in order to escape from all that enforced merriment and rampant consumerism. Also, it gives me a few weeks to recharge my plutonium chamber and get my flux capacitor fluxing to capacity again for all the cinematic shizzlepats I’ll get flung at me in 2010.

I’ll be back in the New Year with my uneagerly unawaited Top 5 of 2009, in the hope that by then I’ll have seen the rest of the year’s offerings, and I’ll do my utmost to bore you to tears with the films I’m dreading the least in 2010. There might even be a laughably late review of Avatar, although if you can’t wait until then it’ll probably go something like: “Bugger all plot to speak of and a saggy middle act, but cornea-frottling SFX that will give you the granny of all headaches, which in turn is exacerbated by the absolute worst song ever recorded over the end credits.”

So despite being a grumpy old humbugger, The Incredible Suit does indeed wish you all a tolerable festive ordeal and a passable New Year. In the words of the rather excellent Penguin Party, it’s only Christmas, it’ll soon be over. Do remember to check my Twitter feed every five minutes in case I decide to say something interesting (unlikely), and if you're so bored of Christmas that you're considering putting sprouts up your nose to alleviate the tedium, why not go back and read every single post on The Incredible Suit from Day 1?*

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a few virtual gifts to stick under your virtual tree and virtually unwrap at 6.00 on Christmas morning, as if I haven’t given you enough already this year you ungrateful tykes.

Cheero!







*The Samaritans' number is 08457 909090

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The Greatest Christmas Movie Ever Made

It was a toughie, it has to be said. Die Hard? Batman Returns? Jingle All The Way? In the end I plumped for Gremlins, perhaps because at its heart is a message with which I wholeheartedly agree: Don’t bother giving gifts at Christmas, they’ll only get lots of people killed and unleash havoc all across town.

I love Gremlins, despite its weak lead actors (did anybody grow up wanting to be Billy Peltzer?), because it’s as wicked and mischievous as its anti-muppet villains. It takes a cute little Midwestern town (which looks suspiciously like Back To The Future’s Hill Valley, probably because it is in fact the same set) where Phil Spector’s festive tunes are on a permanent loop, and rakes a vicious set of claws right across its face before sticking a hypodermic needle in its bum. And all this at Christmas - how dare they?

Well, because Christmas is a ridiculous, self-important time of the year and needs a good slap on the legs. It sits there at the end of December, waiting for us all to come to it, and demands we give it our full attention and spend obscene amounts of cash on it. It’s the spoilt child of the calendar year and that’s why I tend to ignore it and be somewhere it isn’t when it throws its annual tantrum.

But Gremlins does have important things to say: don’t give pets for Christmas without being prepared to look after them; don’t be a miserable old Scrooge like Mrs Deagle (who is satisfyingly ejected from a top-floor window to her doom rather than tediously learning the error of her ways), and don’t try and surprise your kids by dressing as Santa and climbing down the chimney like poor old Kate’s Dad. You’ll only slip, break your neck and be stuck there for days.

Besides all that, Gremlins contains some of the greatest puppet work ever, by Chris Walas, who also created the equally cute Brundlefly. Gizmo is the most expressive ball of fur with a hand up its bum in cinema history, and his ludicrously adorable squeaky voice only makes it even better. Although for all its genius animatronics, my favourite shot is the stop-motion reveal as hundreds of the vicious buggers emerge from the dark and head towards camera, bent on the destruction of Kingston Falls.

At the end Billy loses his Christmas present when the old man comes to take Gizmo away, and I was pleased to see he didn’t throw a strop, even though he was probably going to get a Bathroom Buddy off his idiot inventor Dad to replace it. Another valuable lesson, kids: be grateful for what you’ve got. And never let Corey Feldman into your bedroom.

Speaking of lessons…



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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

A Cuddly Welshman

In the distant future, when all books have perished to dust and the human race has been reduced to infinitesimal particles of dandruff floating on the nuclear wind, the only surviving record of the history of mankind will be movie biopics, captured forever on DVD, a format which has been proven to withstand a cataclysmic atomic blast (possibly).

So when aliens land on Earth and scour their local Blockbuster to learn of this mysterious race of creatures which once inhabited the planet, won't they question why so many historical figures of note look a bit... well, similar?

(Not pictured: Charles Dickens, Yitzhak Rabin, William Bligh, Donald Campbell,

Dr John Kellogg, George Washington, Ernest Hemingway, and many more who all looked suspiciously like a cuddly Welshman)

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Bonkers Malfunctioning-Eyeball Thriller

This is a couple of years old, sorry about that. If I could go back in time to the point where it was actually news I would, but I can’t so I won’t and maybe I wouldn’t anyway, I mean if you can travel through time there are better things to do than retroactively post on a blog that doesn’t even exist yet, surely?

But I digress, and not for the first time. A couple of years ago Martin Scorsese parped out the second best film he ever made. It was ten minutes long, hardly anyone saw it and it was a commercial. But it’s chuffing marvellous and I came across it again the other day and thought, “If I can give one gift to the viewers of The Incredible Suit to reward their love and affection, this is it. Although another picture of a pork chop would probably be equally appropriate.”

So it’s an advert for some poncy wine, but, like Shia LaBeouf, that’s irrelevant. What is relevant is that it’s a spoof, in which Scorsese claims to have discovered an abandoned script written by God himself, Alfred Hitchcock, but which was never filmed. So Marty takes it upon himself to film it in the style of the Master. Not the Master from Doctor Who, you understand. That would be unimaginably bizarre.

So here it is; if you’ve got ten minutes to spare and you love Hitchcock, Scorsese or beautiful filmmaking, treat yourself:

Freixenet - The Key To Reserva
by tvspot

There’s so much about this I love: the dissolve from the title card to the violin strings; the massive pull-out from that close up all the way back through the hall and across the corridor, the 1950s Technicolor look, the clothes, the sets, the fall from the balcony… it’s a perfect replica of how Hitch made some of his greatest films.

What I want now is for Scorsese to take on a serious Hitchcock project. Now I know he’s a religious viewer of The Incredible Suit, so listen up Marty: remake one of Hitch’s lesser pictures (I’m thinking Suspicion, The Wrong Man or Topaz), or follow through on one of his many unfinished projects  – The 39 Steps sequel Greenmantle, bonkers malfunctioning-eyeball thriller The Blind Man or the Bondesque The Short Night would all be magniferous in your hands. Just do it as well as you did that plonk ad and I’ll be Bagpipes Happychap.

Just for Alfred's sake don’t cast Leonardo DiCaprio in it.

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Wax On, Wax Off

Three reasons why the forthcoming Karate Kid remake wouldn't beat the original if they were to face off at the All Valley Championship:

1. It won’t star Elisabeth Shue, who looked beautiful even while gurning:

2. Daniel-san's moves were easier to do in the playground:

3. You won’t hear this song:



Bonus reason: They're calling it The Kung Fu Kid.

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Star Trek

I watched JJ Abrams’ reboot (swiftly becoming this decade’s most annoying word) of Star Trek again recently. By gum it’s good. Some things I love about it:

• Jim Kirk’s Dad, in the opening scenes, is heroic to the point where I caught a light sniffle and got something in my eye, but I soon manned up and got over it.
• Apparently The Beastie Boys’ Sabotage is still required listening in the 23rd century. This is excellent news.
• The whole idea of rebooting (sorry) the series by changing the course of time, and thereby creating an alternate reality for the Enterprise crew, is so genius you could give it a bristly moustache and a Doc Brown hairdo and call it Albert.
• I'm listening to the soundtrack as I type these words, and it's making the whole experience terribly multi-sensual. I think I can even smell Scotty's tribble.
• In a time where every rebooted franchise has to be so dark you need night-vision goggles to see it, Star Trek is bright, colourful and silly, and returns to the cinema a sense of fun not seen since Spielberg’s 1980s run of chucklesome blockbusters (which I hereby trademark as 'Chucklebusters'). In fact I daresay Abrams is well on the way to becoming this generation’s Spielberg. Yes, I actually said that. You read it here first.* 

I’ve never been a Treknologist; in fact I've never been even slightly Treknotronic. I might even go as far as to describe myself as a Treknophobe. But this film made me go back and watch all the old movies again. They’re actually quite good, except for Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, which is very very awful, and the 'Next Generation' films have a dangerously high Fidgit Factor. Furthermore, I don’t know any hardcore Trekoraks, so I don’t know if they found the new movie to be a joyous celebration of sci-fi wonderment or a poo on William Shatner’s grave. Not that he’s dead, obviously. But I think The Onion said it best, and not for the first time:

 *Unless you read it on my Twitter page a few days ago

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I'm Such An Idiot

Actor, comedian, writer and composer Peter Serafinowicz once had a TV series called, not entirely unexpectedly, The Peter Serafinowicz Show. I watched a bit and thought it was rubbish, which meant that I missed this:



I’m such an idiot.

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Steve Buscemi’s Bizarrely Arranged Face

Remember the good old days before Shia LaBeouf took to ‘acting’, Robert Zemeckis made real films with real people in them and the Coen brothers effortlessly and with almost tedious regularity squirted out top-notch qualitertainment like Fargo and The Big Lebowski? Well, wake up, ask someone to slap you in the face as hard as they can, and accept the cold, hard reality of the present day, in which TheBeef is the star of the third-highest grossing film this year, Zemeckis can’t even remember what a real person looks like, and the Coen Brothers are making films like A Serious Man.

I can only really describe how terrible events are by bringing out The Incredible Suit’s Coen Brothers Qualitometer:

If ever there was a film in which a bunch of people said a bunch of stuff to some other people, then A Serious Man is it. No bikers from Hell, no hula-hoops, no bowling and no Dapper Dan. Just people. Talking.

Empire: 5 Stars
IMDb: 8.2/10
Rotten Tomatoes: 87%
The Incredible Suit: One solitary tear on Steve Buscemi’s bizarrely arranged face.

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An Open Letter To Michael Bay

Dear Mr Bay,

You will be pleased to know that you are now free to retire. If District 9 wasn’t enough to convince you that a great science fiction film can be made for the cost of one of your haircuts, please take note of the following short film. It was made by Uraguayan Fede Alvarez and is due to be picked up by Sam Raimi, who will probably spend about half of what you spend on megaphone straps making it into a feature length movie.



Please also note the absence of Shia LaBeouf, who has been replaced by a small Uraguayan boy with better acting skills.

Now do go away.

Yours insincerely,
The Incredible Suit
x

PS The phrase "Robots gigantes invaden Montevideo!", which is how Mr Alvarez summarises the plot of his film, is more exciting than both Transformers movies.

To comment on this post, click here. Unless you are Michael Bay, in which case shut up and stay up.

An Album Of Clannad B-Sides

As the world continues to barrel inexorably towards the December release of Avatar, it’s full steam ahead for interweb types who need to write something – anything – about it more often than they need to do that breathing in and out thing.

This week my eyes have been assaulted with previews of James Horner’s soundtrack to the film, which seems to me to be taking things a bit too far. I mean, what next? An in-depth analysis of the end credits? “Those names just keep on rolling up the screen in a relentless vertical direction, reminding us all that what we have just witnessed is a bunch of people who worked on a film for a bit… breathtaking. Stupendous. James Cameron is a genius and should be cloned so he can make all films ever from now on until the end of time.”

Unsurprisingly, the soundtrack is apparently so unspeakably amazing that entire planets have stopped rotating in order to have a good listen. Well, The Incredible Suit has had a bit of a listen here, and can confirm that it sounds a lot like an album of Clannad B-sides. I tried to avoid reading the track titles because I’ve heard they’re a bit spoilerific, but I do know that one track is called ‘Becoming One Of “The People” Becoming One With Neytiri’. So not only is Cameron changing cinema as we know it but he’s also taking an axe to sentence construction and sensible use of the English language.

Furthermore, following in the turgid, ear-insulting footsteps of Celine Dion, Leona Lewis is singing the song for the end credits, the 30 seconds of which I could bear to withstand were some of the absolute worst noises my ear drums have ever tried to stop from reaching my brain.

Anyway, I don’t want to diss Avatar or its soundtrack too much* in case it all does turn out to be orgasmically astonishing, so I’ll halt there in order to point out some much more exciting soundtrack news: Alan Silvestri’s full score for Back To The Future has finally got a proper release, courtesy of Intrada. This is fantabulous news because a) it’s completely ace, b) it was only previously available in snippets on other soundtrack albums and c) it comes with a second CD of a score that Silvestri recorded before dumping in favour of the one we all know and love.

Have a listen to a few clips here and tell me that’s not better than Enya’s cast-offs.

*Too late

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Clever Words About Films And That

It’s been a while since I did something as uninspiring and pointless as put up a new trailer you can find anywhere, so here’s an uninspiring and pointless new trailer you can find anywhere:



However I couldn’t give a barrel of monkeys about Toy Story 3; obviously I’ll go and see it, duh, but I’m no more excited about it than I am about Avatar, which, on a scale of 1 to 10, is 'not very'.

What’s far more intriguing is this cheeky little tinker:



I don’t know much about Exam at all, except that it got some good press after showing at the Edinburgh Film Festival in June this year, and that it’s small, cheap and looks devilishly entertaining, like Fidgit from Time Bandits on a bungee rope.

There’s no point in me giving you a synopsis because it’s all in the trailer, but what I can and will give you is a solid gold guarantee that The Incredible Suit will be seeing Exam when it comes out on January 8th and sharing its thoughts with you, the viewers. I might even do something original and witty like give it a grade, you know, like ‘A’ or ‘C minus’ or something, what with it being called Exam and all.

The Incredible Suit: at the cutting edge of dead clever words about films and that.

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Robocop Unicorn

At something of a loose end, I recently typed “Robocop unicorn” into a Google Image search. The results suggest that there’s an alternate universe encroaching on ours in which it’s seen as not just perfectly normal, but actually important and worthwhile, to spend your time creating stuff like this:

If anyone can explain this to me I’ll be lying down in a dark room while King Noffin of the Fens mops my brow with a damp rat.

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By Obi-Wan's Beard

There are many, many things I should probably be ashamed of, my treatment of Fidgit from Time Bandits being just one. I don’t even pay him minimum wage yet I get him to perform all sorts of demeaning tasks to ensure the smooth running of The Incredible Suit.

One thing I’m not ashamed of, though, despite constantly being made to feel so, is that I really, really enjoyed last year’s animated Star Wars: The Clone Wars film. There, I’ve said it. It’s out there. Do your worst.

Of course it’s not ‘proper’ Star Wars, nothing is except the first three films. Of course the battle droids are almost as annoying as Jar Jar Binks. Of course it’s irritating that Ahsoka Tano keeps calling R2-D2 ‘Artooie’. And of course it’s odd that each character looks like it’s being played by Kryten from Red Dwarf.

But watch it big and loud and, by Obi-Wan’s beard, it’s breathtaking. The opening battle, which goes on for about half an hour, is astonishing. The direction of the animation puts you right in the middle of it all and doesn’t stop till the last wisecracking battle droid has had its wise well and truly cracked. The sound effects are incredible, the music – rearrangements of John Williams’ perfect score – is energetic and exciting, and the action is stunning. And then, just when you’ve caught your breath, there’s another massive battle that takes place vertically, up the side of a cliff.

I mention all this now because I just bought the first series of the Clone Wars TV show, and it’s just as good. Not only that but it comes on four discs in one normal-sized DVD case, which is more welcome than a last-minute rescue by a roguish Corellian, and comes with a beautiful booklet of production designs and illustrations. AND it features absolutely no trailers before the main menu, which - if you can remember as far back as yesterday's post - puts it in the Top 10 Greatest Things Ever.

If you too are ashamed to show your Clone Wars love in public then feel free to do it here, under The Incredible Suit’s umbrella of tolerance. All are welcome, unless you’re a battle droid. You lot can boil in the fires of Mustafar for all I care.

Being an adult means I can't own one of these.

I hate being an adult.

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Promogasms & Adspasms

Remember when DVDs were introduced? Great days. Here’s a disc, stick it in, there’s a menu, press play and Bob’s your uncle, you’re off and watching something disgusting and a bit phallic plop out of John Hurt’s guts in nauseatingly gross detail and super-squidgy-sloppy-squealy 5.1 digital surround sound. All well and good.

But at some point some Hollywood marketing drone realised there was a small oasis in our lives that wasn’t crammed to bursting with adverts, and as a direct result most DVDs now feature about six days of trailers before you even get to the main menu, and this makes The Incredible Suit very very cross. I have a suspicion that Blu-Ray was introduced because standard DVDs no longer have the capacity for all the promogasms distributors want to force into our faceholes every time we watch a film.

Take the following examples of a few DVDs released in the last twelve months:

The Dark Knight – Four ads before the main menu, one of which is for Warner Brothers’ Blu-Ray range, a pointless exercise if ever there was one. Not only can you not see how much sharper the picture is or spangly the sound is because you’re watching it in standard definition, but the standard definition pictures look chuffing magniferous anyway, so why bother? The Dark Knight also features a trailer for Get Smart, in which Steve Carell is extremely unfunny, only this time in a phone box.

Quantum Of Solace – Three trailers, two studio stings and that bloody anti-piracy thing, which – thanks to hairy genius Adam Buxton – now has lyrics and is finally bearable:



Star Trek – Thankfully only two ads, but both for awful films, GI Joe: Rise Of The Cobra and Transformers: Revenge Of The Fallen (known to normal human beings as GI Joe and Transformers 2), the latter of which features Shia LaBeouf uttering the open goal: “Megatron wants what’s in my mind!”

The worst offender, however, is WALL•E, which relentlessly beats you – and, crucially, your children - around the head with so many adspasms it’s a wonder any of you can stand up. Before you can even get close to the menu there’s a generic Disney promo; a short and very rubbish teaser for Up; another futile Blu-Ray con; a trailer for Pinocchio, and last but by all means least, an ad for the unspeakably awful-looking and badly dubbed The Secret Of The Magic Gourd. Yes, really. And no, I’ve no idea what a gourd is, but on the evidence presented in this trailer it’s a walking, talking turd.



Now you might like to counter my argument by suggesting that you can skip all this shizzle and just go straight to the main menu, and you’d be right. But that’s not the point. I don’t know what the point is, but that’s not it. If anyone knows what the point is, please send it to me along with several commercials for other points I may be interested in.

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Darth Hattersley

The other day I was watching BBC2's informative, educational, entertaining and extremely well-shot lunchtime programme "The Daily Politics", when up popped former deputy leader of the Labour party, Roy Hattersley. Now I don't know what your immediate thoughts might be upon laying your eyes on Mr Hattersley, but if you're anything like me they probably look something like this:

Uncanny.

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Hairy Faced Lunatic

Books. Hate ‘em. Too many words.

Thank Alfred, then, for The James Bond Omnibus, a collection of comic strips that ran in the Daily Express between 1958 and 1962. This book, which is made of 100% recycled groovy, is the perfect thing for a dangerously obsessive Bond freak who’s watched the films and read the novels so many times that he introduces himself with his surname first, then his first name and surname together, even if he has a name that doesn’t sound remotely cool when spoken like that. Fortunately I don’t know anyone quite that obsessive, and I certainly wouldn’t be caught doing that myself, oh no.

Anyway. Ian Fleming’s original books were serialised in the Express in the days before it became the Daily Diana Conspiracy Theory, and if you’d been around then you would have been alternately entertained by the zippy plots and fantastic artwork (by John McLusky in this book; other artists such as the peerless Yaroslav Horak - surely a Bond villain name if ever there was one - would take over later), and frustrated by the fact that it took about four seconds to read and then you had to wait till tomorrow for the next four seconds. But the majesty of this book is that that frustration has been banished – banished, I say! – by squidging them all together into one continuous story.

One thing I love about Fleming’s novels is that Bond can often be found spouting the most ridiculous put-downs to the villains which even Roger Moore would have trouble saying out loud, and I’m pleased to see they’re carried through to the comic strips. Here’s my current favourite, from 'Moonraker':

Furthermore, when they ran out of original stories, writer Jim Lawrence came up with a bucketload more, which I haven’t read but am very excited about, despite them having Harry Potteresque titles like ‘The League Of Vampires’, ‘When The Wizard Awakes’ and ‘The Xanadu Connection’. And I shudder to think what ‘Doomcrack’ is all about, but I look forward to finding out.

So well done to Titan Books for parping out this beauty, keep ‘em coming and have a free plug on The Incredible Suit for your troubles.

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Darth Vader’s Coal Scuttle

Sometimes I can tell by the way that you’re gazing blankly at your screen that you’re not interested in a single word I have to say. That’s quite understandable; most of it is complete and utter codsbobble. In fact, a lot of the time I think that it would be better for everyone if I just shut up for a moment and stick some faintly chucklesome clips up for you to watch in your lunch break.

So, in a public service to all of us, here’s some stuff that doesn’t require any effort from anyone:

Speed 3 Currently Filming In Russia:



Shia LaBeouf is asked if he thinks a) if his contribution to the arts is worthwhile, b) if he should make any more films, and c) if he is any good:



And finally, something for Pixar fans whose hearts are blacker than Darth Vader’s coal scuttle:



Happy weekend, and don't forget - if you're terribly down with the kids, you can become a Facebook fan of The Incredible Suit! Yes, really! I know!

***STOP PRESS FOR EXCITING BUT

SELF-CONGRATULATORY MESSAGE***

Hello if you've been sent here from the weekly Popbitch email, and thanks a bazillion to Popbitch for increasing The Incredible Suit's readership by approximately a gajillion times. I had to put 'Gonna Fly Now (Theme From Rocky)' on at very high volume and run up my stairs while Fidgit from Time Bandits circled me with a camcorder, the footage of which you will never, ever see.

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2012: A Review

Mumble mumble, pseudo-scientific techno-babble... nutrinos... CRASH!!! SMASH!!! BASH!!! CHEESE!! WHOOSH!!! SPLASH!!! CRACK!!! AAAGGHHHHH!!! MORE CHEESE!! BOOM!!! BANG!!! CLANG!!! FOOM!!! WHOOSH!!! A BIT MORE CHEESE!! CRUNCH!!! Repeat until head hurts.

Preposterous, instantly forgettable fun. 6/10

Also, 2012 is long. Really long. About 366 days by all estimates.

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A Wheezing Rampage Of Revenge

It’s official. This chap Michael Caine, who has for so long gone overlooked in the movie world, is surely the planet’s greatest actor. I mean he’s just chuffing marvelous, there are no two ways about it, or if there are the other way is that he is fricking amazing.

In Harry Brown, Caine plays an old geezer, which isn’t much of a stretch to be fair, who gets increasingly Harry Browned off with the local scumbags on his estate. When his best mate, who happens to be the caretaker of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is murdered by the aforementioned scumbags, Harry takes it upon himself to go postal on their asses in a wheezing rampage of revenge.

The first half of the film is almost kitchen sink drama, in which Caine is utterly compelling in every frame. Even The Incredible Suit got something in its eye in the scene where Harry was informed of his friend’s death.

Unfortunately the second half, which is kick started – albeit very slowly – by an overlong and slightly freaky visit to a local gun dealer, loses the plot a bit as it heads toward a big finale which the budget can’t support. Ten hoodies and a handful of coppers do not a riot make. Also the police, bless ‘em, are portrayed as ineffectual plods the whole way through, and although this prompts Harry to take up arms himself, it comes across as lazy characterization. Having said that, Ben Drew is remarkably believable as the worst person in the world ever, which is saying something when you’re sharing screentime with Sir Maurice of Micklewhite.

Harry Brown is depressing, brutal and much better than its American cousin Gran Torino, but perhaps the best reason to see it is to watch a legend doing what he does better than what other people what do it does it. Yeah? As some indication of how convincing he was, the only other people in the cinema were four old ladies who I had to avoid eye contact with on the way out because I thought they were going to beat the living crap out of me.

Back by popular demand (i.e. I forgot all about it until now):

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A Cup Of Reasonable, But Unexceptional, Tea

Irritatingly, I missed Le Donk & Scor-zay-zee at the cinema, although I can’t really be blamed because it was only on for about four minutes at one tiny cinema in some obscure part of London that’s only accessible by dirigible airship. Fortunately, and I have to say quite unexpectedly, it was released on DVD almost immediately, which means it’ll probably be on Channel 4 before you finish reading this and the sequel will be out on theatrical release.

If that turns out to be the case, don’t bother flicking through the Yellow Pages to hire a zeppelin in order to find it, for Le Donk & Scor-zay-zee was merely a slice of OK cake washed down with a cup of reasonable, but unexceptional, tea.

Filmed mockumentary-style by the consistently good but never quite awesome Shane Meadows, this is the flimsy tale of an East Midlands roadie, Le Donk, and his lardy rapping bud, Scor-zay-zee, as they take a very short road trip, work with “The Arctical Monkeys”, strive to realise a long-held dream and, for Le Donk, fail to deal with his ex-girlfriend moving on.

The film perches somewhere on the same comedy ladder as This Is Spinal Tap and TV’s 'The Office', but remains several rungs below both. Le Donk, played by the always excellent Paddy Considine, is an almost David Brent-esque berk who loves the attention of having a camera crew follow him around, and while he shows himself up to be talentless, selfish and unlikeable, he’s never quite funny enough to make us forgive his disagreeable nature.

That said, it’s over in 71 minutes and has some excellent opening titles, so, you know, every cloud…*



In unrelated (and shamelessly self-promotional) news, The Incredible Suit now has what is commonly known by young people as “a Facebook page”, which means you can come out and tell the world you’re a fan of this monumental pile of old cabbages with just one relatively painless click of the mouse. Somewhere on this page is a button that says “Become a Fan”; doing so means you’ll be the first to know when there’s a new post (providing you’re constantly glued to Facebook like a laboratory teenager), and – apparently – you can even have discussions about just how peerlessly professional, staggeringly informative and bum-scratchingly thought-provoking the blog is. All of which you could just do by talking to each other, but nobody does that any more, it’s just tedious.

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* This is a David Brent quote. It’s intentional. I don’t just throw these things together, you know. I bet you didn't notice the Wordy Rappinghood gag either. Honestly, I don't know why I etc etc...

100

Woo hoo! It’s The Incredible Suit’s 100th post! The entire team, which is to say me, Mrs The Incredible Suit (above) and Fidgit from Time Bandits, are in the pub celebrating, so here’s a vaguely century-related clip to keep you distracted until we sober up and remember where we left the keys to the blog.

Banzai, Daniel-san!



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Gagalanche

On a recent day off from whatever the hell it is I do for a living, I treated myself to a triple bill from the holy trinity of silent comedians – Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. Not that this applied to me, but if you’ve had the kind of day where it would have been improved by an elephant defecating on your dining room table just after you’ve served up dinner then you could do a lot worse than sit down with these guys for a couple of hours.

Harold Lloyd’s short film Number, Please? is, it has to be said, not one of his best, but it does feature some of his typically inventive gags, especially a scene in which all he has to do is make a phone call, but is prevented in doing so by a cigar, a midget, a stupid woman, a bad memory, a lack of cash, a screaming baby and a Jewish stereotype. The film also features two excellent performances by dogs, which I realise is neither here nor there but canine thespianism is a much-overlooked aspect of cinema these days so I’m just doing my bit to big it up.

Charlie Chaplin’s first feature (although that’s pushing the limits of what qualifies a film as a feature – it’s 50 minutes long), The Kid, is a rare thing in silent cinema – a comedy with emotional depth, featuring as it does an abandoned child, a heartbroken mother, a fiercely protective father-figure and the social services sticking their oar in. Rest assured, however, there are plenty of people getting kicked up the arse and Charlie gets baby wee on his hands, so there’s something for everyone. Chaplin took a year to make The Kid, starting just after his own son died when he was just a few days old, and shot about 44 hours of footage, but it paid off. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and you’ll praise the dream sequence at the end for featuring another great dog, this time one that actually flies.

Buster Keaton, as regular viewers of The Incredible Suit will know, is worshipped as something of a god round these parts. His 1920 short Neighbors is a seventeen minute gagalanche* of gobsmackular stunts and astonishing use of props. Here’s the whole thing, but the first three minutes give you a fair idea of what to expect, and if it doesn’t make you want to watch the rest then there’s a small bit of you that isn’t working properly. Get it seen to.



Sadly no award-winning mutts there; in Keaton’s defence his previous short The Scarecrow had a great dog in it but it’s not as good. Conclusion? A brilliant dog does not a great film make. Although Digby, The Biggest Dog In The World is awesome.

* An avalanche of gags. Did you really need that explaining?

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A Fart I Have To Face

Earlier this year I went to an evening at the BFI with David Arnold, legendary composer of film scores. By which I mean that I went to see him talk, I didn’t go with him, we’re not mates or anything.

He was talking specifically about his work on the Bond films, which as I’m sure you’re aware is fantastic (proof here), and he let slip that he was working on a new project which would be of great interest to fans of James Bond music, but he couldn’t say what it was at that time. I set my anticipationometer to ‘quite excited’ and waited to see what goodies would spill forth.

Sadly the answer turned out to be ‘a new Shirley Bassey album produced by David Arnold’. It was a bit like being told you might be getting the complete Bond film collection for Christmas, only to open your stocking and find a VHS of Never Say Never Again.

Anyway, the other day I heard one of the tracks from Shirl’s album and, as has been pointed out elsewhere, was quite surprised to hear what was clearly a possible theme song for Quantum Of Solace, which had obviously been shot in the kneecaps in favour of Jack White and Alicia Keys’ effort. Not only that but I was even more surprised to find that I quite liked it. If I’d had any more surprises that day I probably would have had to have my spleen replaced, as everybody knows that each surprise shrinks one’s spleen by 2%.

So have a listen to ‘No Good About Goodbye’ and see what you think. Is this a Bond theme? Is it a great Bond theme? Is it better than Another Way To Die? And, perhaps most importantly, what does Burly Chassis mean by the line “There’ll always be a space, a fart I have to face now” at 0:42?

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Was Russ Abbot In Time Bandits?

One of the things almost worth thinking about mentioning about having a blog is that people stumble onto it by accident all the time, usually because they’ve typed something into Google like “where can I buy a Mr Incredible suit”, and inadvertently landed on this pile of tiresome pizzle. I’d like to think that these weary travellers might have their curiosity piqued, pull up a comfy chair and stay for a while, but statistical evidence shows they leg it quicker than Indiana Jones evading the Hovitos.

Although it gives me a feeling of some moral superiority when I see what some people are typing into Google, it simultaneously horrifies me that such things bring them here. I can only imagine the disappointment they must feel when they settle down in front of their computer with a very specific intention, only to find themselves staring at the rantings of a misguided berk who’s watched too many Bond films.

As a caring, sharing type, I thought I’d reveal some of my favourite searches that have brought unsuspecting types to The Incredible Suit. I’ve left the spelling mistakes in deliberately so don’t even try to pick me up on that, you pedants.

They fall into two broad groups which, for the sake of argument, we’ll call “Er…” and “Nipples”.

Er…
was russ abbott in time bandits?
if i put you in a dustbin
muse penile suppository review
the incredible machine fishtank target
how to make realistic intestines
turtle bowel magnet
wher can i find emma watson fakes
blogger content warning horny hunk

Nipples
incredible nipples
insane nipples movies
moulin rouge nipple
bonnie wright niple
ann-margret nipple
nipple in the camera
catherine weaver nipple terminator

I’ll keep you updated if any more come in, but if you’ve seen any of your own there I hope you can explain yourself. More importantly, though, I hope you stayed and learned something new and soul-enhancing that might at least postpone your impending blindness. If not, this ought to dampen your ardour:



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James Bond In A Nappy In Outer Space

When The Incredible Suit was several sizes smaller, it was customary to watch anything that starred Harrison Ford, based entirely on the premise that Han Solo or Indiana Jones in any film would still be Han Solo or Indiana Jones. I probably would have watched Gardener’s World if Indy had been in it up to his elbows in geraniums.

Likewise with various other childhood heroes; James Bond in a nappy in outer space? I’m there. Marty McFly coked up to his eyeballs? Yes please. Even now I’ll watch Daniel Craig in pretty much anything, because all these guys have that certain something few film stars have: a charisma that’s carried over from their defining roles and keeps you coming back for more in the absence of another Star Wars / Bond / Back To The Future film.

So what the hell is Pierce Brosnan playing at?

Here’s a man who was so cool as 007 that projectors literally* froze when the film ran through them. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, and he always wore an incredible suit.

But Brosnan has spectacularly failed to capitalise on his Bond success in just about every film he’s been in since he bungee jumped off that dam in GoldenEye. I only watched The Thomas Crown Affair and The Tailor Of Panama because he was in them, and they were duller than a trip to the Cumberland Pencil Museum. I didn’t expect him to be James Bond, I just thought his presence signified quality. I thought wrong.

Things haven’t improved; here are IMDb’s synopses of three upcoming Brosnan films:

“The Greatest: Drama centred around a troubled teenage girl and a family trying to get over the loss of their son.” Sounds great. Can I bring a book?

“Remember Me: Drama centred on two lovers whose relationship is threatened as they cope with their respective family tragedies.” I actually died of boredom in the middle of that sentence and had to be resuscitated with a direct injection of GoldenEye into my spine.

“Vanilla Gorilla: An albino gorilla in captivity uses sign language to communicate his plight to a little girl, setting in motion an international escape plan.” What? An albino gorilla? Did someone make this up playing Balderdash? Here’s a more sensible plot: “A shy carrot comes out of his shell when a dying telephone catapults him into another dimension populated by unicycling gherkins.”

The Broz-man’s next big flick is Percy Jackson & The Olympians, in which a boy discovers his Dad is Poseidon and subsequently gets involved in all kinds of mythical and legendary shenanigery. Brosnan plays Chiron, Percy’s immortal mentor. It looks OK, although it does feel a bit like someone’s desperately scrabbling around for the next Harry Potter.



So be warned, Brozzo; if Percy Jackson turns out to be less than Olympian, your future might lie with George Lazenby’s in convention hell. Act now – literally!

Mamma Mia! (2008)

*Not literally in the literal sense of the word

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