If I may I would like to briefly sum this film up before exploring the details further. A huge fecking disaster hits the entire globe like it never did before. Think about something really big...done that? Well it's even bigger than that, this is the kind of global disaster that demands a rich tapestry of CGI particulars that eventually illustrate destruction on an epic, awe inspiring scale. Can one man and his family survive? Indeed, will mankind survive? Let’s find out.
The special effects are good. Incredibly good, to date I don’t believe that I have seen much better. I couldn't quite enjoy the spectacle though because of the three trailers that came before the actual film. It seems that in 2010 we’re in for a myriad of HUGE, WHOPPING GREAT CGI films that are intent on melting our eyeballs. Which is a shame because not only do I like my eyeballs, I like depth and story. The opening trailers were more crammed with special effects than my blog is of profanities, which is no mean feat. By the time 2012 rocked up I was bloody worn out.
The scale of the collapsing Earth in 2012 is mightily impressive and fully immersed me in the global catastrophe. I might even call it terrifying, due to its relevance in a green-aware world and possibility that we could really suffer from such natural disasters in the future. Unfortunately, my point on the opening trailers exhausting me is that 2012’s greatest strength is clearly in its CGI artistry. However, when so many current and upcoming films are seemingly capable of such imagery, can they still be called special effects? If they can’t, then a film like 2012 can’t hope to succeed merely on its appearance. And, regrettably, it pretty much does.
There was too much icing on the cake that is 2012, which meant in the end it started to taste a lot like eating plain icing and if you do that you quickly grow tired of eating icing and you're sick everywhere. The guys who toiled on this were clearly talented and well funded, but it soon became like watching a child build something out of Lego, just so he could smash it on the ground. The rest of the film is embarrassingly predictable.
The focus is on one family but as in all disaster films it's a broken family, one that can only be repaired by the part of the Earth’s crust being shifted around, which says a lot to me about the impracticality of marriage in the 21st Century. As well as this core family, 2012 also dabbles in a 'Love Actually-esque' view of some other narratives, and eventually they all sort of criss-cross. Unfortunately the film seems to lose interest in this plot device and quickly puts them all together like it's picked up something smelly and wants to put it all away quickly because it didn't realise how smelly all the different plotlines were. So the other plotlines never really get the same level of attention given to the core one - it's unbalanced, considering that these strands are all supposed to converge at the same spot at the end of the film.
They might have dodged a bullet though. Never one to do things in halves, 2012 wants to equal its epic special effects only in the pathos it builds for the main character, John Cusack...who from here on in will be called ‘High Fidelity’. Not a typical action hero you might think, but nowadays the real movie heroes are those that we least expect - which is why he's always the failed husband and father now, or the jerk who won’t grow up and realise his responsibilities. The dinosaurs of yesterdays action films are now Californian senators or wheeling themselves out in films called 'Explosions VII; Revenge of the Box Office'; ‘High Fidelity’ is our hero now. Sure he was never an attentive enough husband or father, but damn it (and they probably had this very argument once) if there was ever a world crisis where the entire globe collapsed in on itself and humanities very existence was threatened, he'd bloody well come through, OK? He was probably really kicking himself then when it actually happened.
As ever an unlikely amount of luck seems to influence his and his family’s survival. He outruns earthquakes in limos and dodges volcanoes in planes. It’s all good, baby. In fact, 2012, being the a-typical disaster monolith it is, reminds us of that key-code of conduct that one must obey if one wants to live to the end of an apocalypse film; BE GOOD.
2012 reminds us that in films like these, anyone guilty of a slight moral infraction comes to an unlikely death. If only life were so fair! And equally anyone that has always tried to do the right thing comes to an unlikely survival. 2012 is so blindingly generic in this way that I could almost see the grim puppet-master of film morality bouncing the figures around going "woohoo, you're going to die, liiike...this; ha-ha!" Honestly, there was no grey area here, no serious moral questions about humanity or society, which is what the film needed to make any of these people worth saving and, subsequently, to get the audience to care about the outcome. Such films have no room for uncertainty, you are either going to live, or you are going to die. Oh, and if you are making the final resolution awkward or even 'heroes' final happiness in the status quo a little difficult, it’s likely that you too will die as a result of being inconvenient. That's basic. This is basic film maths people, page 1 of your text books. 2012 follows it religiously.
And it is because it is so rigid that 2012 was not a great movie. It was frequently on its high horse. “Oh, look at this guy making a sacrifice. Look at this guy not making a sacrifice! I’ll settle their hash”. It suddenly started to feel a lot like that ungodly 'Crash' film. Crash ought to be buried in a lead bunker, because to go near it is to be contaminated. By the end, the only thing rivalling 2012’s moral high ground was the height of the waves. I think I was supposed to have learnt something about...being good to each other? And sacrifice? The American family wins through once the loving new husband has been churned up in the gears of a machine? Was this film about class conflict? Racism? I simply don’t know. I'm just glad that at the end of the film everyone gets to sail off into the sunset; literally. Can you believe that? I almost wanted the words "THE END" to appear in beautiful script at the top of the screen while a Disney-style chorus sang them off. Instead we got a space eye view of the African continent...was that supposed to be political? Again, my tiny intellect prevents me from answering.
Put simply, it was hard to take any of the films messages seriously when they had all been made before - what's new 2012? Do you still pay attention anymore when your mum tells you to eat all of your vegetables? No, of course you don't, you've started to come to those decisions on your own now. Equally, having seen my fair share of films over the past twenty years, I don't need 2012 telling me that human life is precious. Thanks. Is it? Good.
Let me set your minds at ease if you have your tickets already booked - I don't think this is what I would call a bad film. I just wouldn't venture to call it good either. 2012 is essentially a film trying to make up for having a small penis (its human relationships) by giving off a lot of bravado. If you like bravado, you'll like this film. But if you want a film that develops believably human relationships, please don’t give 2012 the time of day.
Ultimately, whatever your opinion it is impossible to truly complain about this film. Afterall, we were warned! Hyuck-hyuck.
Sunday 15 November 2009
Tuesday 3 November 2009
X MARKS THE SHIT, or rather, Why It's Important to Watch X-Factor.
Ah, my old nemesis, X-Factor, we meet again, FOR THE LAST TIME.
The pantomime shit storm that is X-Factor continues to charge along like a mediocre laden juggernaut on its way to tacky television station, population, several million British plebeians.
Introducing the general public, a gaudy Reebok clad swarm of robots capable of performing two functions that make you believe that they are real life sentient beings! These actions of course are:
(1) Applauding
(2) Booing
And these clever party tricks are employed whenever anyone expresses an opinion that is:
(1) Matching to their opinion
(2) Contrary to their opinion
So, let the futility commense. The general populace of this country, who I lose more and more respect for everyday, get to put an emotional stake in a hollow husk of a contestant, just so that when that talentless figure is used as the vessel to churn out a souless studio album of solo mediocrity they can say, YES, I always liked him, and that was my guy! This is less their one-time solo success, more my own personal victory at guessing what twit the general public are willing to subject themselves to.
Louis Walsh is a judge on X-Factor and, get this, has been quoted as calling X-Factor “a talent show”. Dogs spinning plates on their noses is a talent. X-Factor is a talent show exactly the same way WHSmith is a book shop. It sort of is because it has some books in it, but that’s not reeeally what it is or what it’s there for.
X-Factor is some nightmarish cylinder of pain which people need to plug into to refill their ‘stupid fuel’. This stupid fuel is vital, because stupid fuel helps drive round the empty cogs in peoples heads. It means that they can drive along their desperate desire for an emotional engagement, it lets them driiiive forward towards something that they really, really care about, because unfortunately, the viewers lives are so shallow and pointless that they just don’t have anything better to dedicate themselves to. X-Factor is your packaged, makeshift meaning of existence; for all the family!
Whilst the judges continue to exchange worthless platitudes (which ironically sum up all too accurately the quality of every performers lyrical razor blade to my brain), the contestants get to play their set roles. I wonder if they get the scripts beforehand...”You know, Simon, I’m in it to win and I don’t care what you say and I’m gonna come back here, next week, even bigger, better and stronger” *cue rampant stinking applause*
However, here is my summary of the contestants. But Charlie, how on earth can you form an opinion, you don’t watch it. I’ve seen it, everyone I know watches it, and it tells me a lot about their IQ and their social and media awareness. Despite this, there is genuine reason that you, and I, need to know the following, a reason I will explain at the end. Here we go then:
Daryl: A man of unknown race and with a mouth the size of the sun, this bisexual teacher is a generic tight jeaned solo singer. He gets teary eyed over nothing. Saying that, some people "hate him more than Hitler" apparently. At least the Nazi party didn't sing though. Get Nick Griffin on X-Factor, that ought to even it out a bit! "When you're the BNPeeeee, nobody takes ya seriouslyyyyyy".
Joe McElderry: A personalityless face, he looks about twelve and like he is missing a boy band.
Lloyd Daniels: Somehow Lloyd managed to escape the set of Home and Away and cram himself onto X-Factor, much to everyones disgust. Another person who seems about twelve years old, he is another empty husk of a solo singer (see above) who would struggle to look more typically marketable if he tried. Surfs up "Lloyd", if that is your real name.
Lucie Jones: A voice that sounds like a cat under a bus (flat) I can't even tell if Lucie is pretty or not, because she has one of those faces that looks pretty from some angles and then square and obtuse the next. Plus, do we really need yet another female solo singer coming out of the crap factory that is the 'music industry'? I don't think so. You go girl...go away.
Stacie Solomon: Is she perhaps the stupidest person in the history of mankind? That's impossible to measure, but is she pretty then? Well, let me just say this, a horse is a horse of course of course. I can't bare Stacie Solomon, she has a voice that sounds like hot air quickly escaping out of a kettle, hahahahahaHA uuuuurgh.
John and Edward: Having narrowly missed out on a part in The Shining these scary twins are perhaps the least choreographed and in tune pair of people I have ever, ever seen in my entire life, and I'm including your average man on the street in this, they literally have no talents whatsoever between them, let alone in performing. I bet they don't dress up at halloween, they just tell people to deliver sweets to them or they'll come round and just stand in peoples living room *shudder*
Olly Murs: Next time you look at Olly Murs, think of this - "You have a face like a loaf of bread". Press down on his head and go "ah, Kingsmill" or something. Just because you were probably rejected from Westlife Olly, doesn't mean you can start wearing braces and crooked hats all of a sudden, this isn't Chicago, you're boring, horrifically clean-cut, and I hate you. Do one.
Jamie Archer: What is this bohemian nightmare. The afro says soul, but the voice, persona and overall being says 'pretend hippy'. I bet Jamie loves the environment but likes to leave his lights on and hates to recycle. Anyway, he can't sing, and thrusting your hips around and pretending to 'ROCK OUT' is no substitute for a good voice.
[NONE OF THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY ORIGINALITY OR PERSONALITY OR CREATIVITY; oh, I'm sorry, how silly, that's not what music is about. Oh, my mistake again, of course, it is. "But Charlie, Sinatra never wrote his own songs", no, he didn't and he sucked. Besides, at least he had style and an original singing voice that still stands out today as clearly being his]. Anyway.
Here’s why you needed to know all that tripe and about all that tripe; because, THE RESULT OF X-FACTOR WILL EFFECT YOU. I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. But you and I (presumably sharp reader) have to take an interest in X-Factor nowadays, because it’s such a foul cultural cancer that whoever wins this travesty of a jumped up, record label, puppet show, we the public will have to see them more often, fact.
Whoever emerges “victorious” (although the whole thing is about as convincing as wrestling) will be turned into sausages via the chart music machine – that means a vomit worthy single, splurging posters, blindly fanatical radio time and a predictably average album deal. We have to know who we’re dealing with, get our heads down, maybe take refuge in a war bunker of some description and emerge only in the distant future when everyone is bored of whatever no-talent boob that X-Factor spawns out. In the meantime, they will be everywhere, so we might as well make sure that it's the least annoying idiot we can.
Who do I want to win?
Well, if you're asking, I'd have to say John and Edward. Their horrifying appearance and abundantly obvious lack of talent aside, I would like them to win the X-Factor, because I'm an ironic bugger, and then at least no one will like them, not just me.
If my soul is ice-cream, X-Factor, and with that ITV (those bastards) are the ice-cream scoop, they carve out my very being from my bodily husk. The horrific level of interest in X-Factor genuinely rattles my weak faith in society. Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Have the friends and family I love and once respected succumbed to alien invaders, aliens who replaced them all with swill consuming creatures bent on watching shit “reality” television “competitions”? I hope that the answer is yes. I’m embarrassed to say that I was present when my Mother and Uncle were discussing, with loud vigour, the events in X-Factor...alongside me...in a service station...bottom of the barrel.
And do you know what, side-not: FUCK the people who 'pretend' to like X-Factor. I hate the people who when talking about X-Factor begin their sentence with: "Oh, well I only watch it because-", STOP; the key word there is 'watch'. You still watch it, stop pretending to do it ironically you dick, you clearly enjoy it because you're there watching it every bloody week, not just when the 'funny rubbish people' are in it at the beginning, stop lying to yourself, you have a problem! The people who do that are much worse than the ones who actually admit to enjoying it.
Of course that’s fantasy, and I condemn absolutely anyone idiot enough to view the X-Factor. You are a brainless human of the highest calibre. I insist that we all start thinking about what we watch on television. Still, as long as you’re happy I suppose. I hope those scary Shining twins win, and that they bring about the apocalypse.
The pantomime shit storm that is X-Factor continues to charge along like a mediocre laden juggernaut on its way to tacky television station, population, several million British plebeians.
Introducing the general public, a gaudy Reebok clad swarm of robots capable of performing two functions that make you believe that they are real life sentient beings! These actions of course are:
(1) Applauding
(2) Booing
And these clever party tricks are employed whenever anyone expresses an opinion that is:
(1) Matching to their opinion
(2) Contrary to their opinion
So, let the futility commense. The general populace of this country, who I lose more and more respect for everyday, get to put an emotional stake in a hollow husk of a contestant, just so that when that talentless figure is used as the vessel to churn out a souless studio album of solo mediocrity they can say, YES, I always liked him, and that was my guy! This is less their one-time solo success, more my own personal victory at guessing what twit the general public are willing to subject themselves to.
Louis Walsh is a judge on X-Factor and, get this, has been quoted as calling X-Factor “a talent show”. Dogs spinning plates on their noses is a talent. X-Factor is a talent show exactly the same way WHSmith is a book shop. It sort of is because it has some books in it, but that’s not reeeally what it is or what it’s there for.
X-Factor is some nightmarish cylinder of pain which people need to plug into to refill their ‘stupid fuel’. This stupid fuel is vital, because stupid fuel helps drive round the empty cogs in peoples heads. It means that they can drive along their desperate desire for an emotional engagement, it lets them driiiive forward towards something that they really, really care about, because unfortunately, the viewers lives are so shallow and pointless that they just don’t have anything better to dedicate themselves to. X-Factor is your packaged, makeshift meaning of existence; for all the family!
Whilst the judges continue to exchange worthless platitudes (which ironically sum up all too accurately the quality of every performers lyrical razor blade to my brain), the contestants get to play their set roles. I wonder if they get the scripts beforehand...”You know, Simon, I’m in it to win and I don’t care what you say and I’m gonna come back here, next week, even bigger, better and stronger” *cue rampant stinking applause*
However, here is my summary of the contestants. But Charlie, how on earth can you form an opinion, you don’t watch it. I’ve seen it, everyone I know watches it, and it tells me a lot about their IQ and their social and media awareness. Despite this, there is genuine reason that you, and I, need to know the following, a reason I will explain at the end. Here we go then:
Daryl: A man of unknown race and with a mouth the size of the sun, this bisexual teacher is a generic tight jeaned solo singer. He gets teary eyed over nothing. Saying that, some people "hate him more than Hitler" apparently. At least the Nazi party didn't sing though. Get Nick Griffin on X-Factor, that ought to even it out a bit! "When you're the BNPeeeee, nobody takes ya seriouslyyyyyy".
Joe McElderry: A personalityless face, he looks about twelve and like he is missing a boy band.
Lloyd Daniels: Somehow Lloyd managed to escape the set of Home and Away and cram himself onto X-Factor, much to everyones disgust. Another person who seems about twelve years old, he is another empty husk of a solo singer (see above) who would struggle to look more typically marketable if he tried. Surfs up "Lloyd", if that is your real name.
Lucie Jones: A voice that sounds like a cat under a bus (flat) I can't even tell if Lucie is pretty or not, because she has one of those faces that looks pretty from some angles and then square and obtuse the next. Plus, do we really need yet another female solo singer coming out of the crap factory that is the 'music industry'? I don't think so. You go girl...go away.
Stacie Solomon: Is she perhaps the stupidest person in the history of mankind? That's impossible to measure, but is she pretty then? Well, let me just say this, a horse is a horse of course of course. I can't bare Stacie Solomon, she has a voice that sounds like hot air quickly escaping out of a kettle, hahahahahaHA uuuuurgh.
John and Edward: Having narrowly missed out on a part in The Shining these scary twins are perhaps the least choreographed and in tune pair of people I have ever, ever seen in my entire life, and I'm including your average man on the street in this, they literally have no talents whatsoever between them, let alone in performing. I bet they don't dress up at halloween, they just tell people to deliver sweets to them or they'll come round and just stand in peoples living room *shudder*
Olly Murs: Next time you look at Olly Murs, think of this - "You have a face like a loaf of bread". Press down on his head and go "ah, Kingsmill" or something. Just because you were probably rejected from Westlife Olly, doesn't mean you can start wearing braces and crooked hats all of a sudden, this isn't Chicago, you're boring, horrifically clean-cut, and I hate you. Do one.
Jamie Archer: What is this bohemian nightmare. The afro says soul, but the voice, persona and overall being says 'pretend hippy'. I bet Jamie loves the environment but likes to leave his lights on and hates to recycle. Anyway, he can't sing, and thrusting your hips around and pretending to 'ROCK OUT' is no substitute for a good voice.
[NONE OF THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY ORIGINALITY OR PERSONALITY OR CREATIVITY; oh, I'm sorry, how silly, that's not what music is about. Oh, my mistake again, of course, it is. "But Charlie, Sinatra never wrote his own songs", no, he didn't and he sucked. Besides, at least he had style and an original singing voice that still stands out today as clearly being his]. Anyway.
Here’s why you needed to know all that tripe and about all that tripe; because, THE RESULT OF X-FACTOR WILL EFFECT YOU. I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. But you and I (presumably sharp reader) have to take an interest in X-Factor nowadays, because it’s such a foul cultural cancer that whoever wins this travesty of a jumped up, record label, puppet show, we the public will have to see them more often, fact.
Whoever emerges “victorious” (although the whole thing is about as convincing as wrestling) will be turned into sausages via the chart music machine – that means a vomit worthy single, splurging posters, blindly fanatical radio time and a predictably average album deal. We have to know who we’re dealing with, get our heads down, maybe take refuge in a war bunker of some description and emerge only in the distant future when everyone is bored of whatever no-talent boob that X-Factor spawns out. In the meantime, they will be everywhere, so we might as well make sure that it's the least annoying idiot we can.
Who do I want to win?
Well, if you're asking, I'd have to say John and Edward. Their horrifying appearance and abundantly obvious lack of talent aside, I would like them to win the X-Factor, because I'm an ironic bugger, and then at least no one will like them, not just me.
If my soul is ice-cream, X-Factor, and with that ITV (those bastards) are the ice-cream scoop, they carve out my very being from my bodily husk. The horrific level of interest in X-Factor genuinely rattles my weak faith in society. Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Have the friends and family I love and once respected succumbed to alien invaders, aliens who replaced them all with swill consuming creatures bent on watching shit “reality” television “competitions”? I hope that the answer is yes. I’m embarrassed to say that I was present when my Mother and Uncle were discussing, with loud vigour, the events in X-Factor...alongside me...in a service station...bottom of the barrel.
And do you know what, side-not: FUCK the people who 'pretend' to like X-Factor. I hate the people who when talking about X-Factor begin their sentence with: "Oh, well I only watch it because-", STOP; the key word there is 'watch'. You still watch it, stop pretending to do it ironically you dick, you clearly enjoy it because you're there watching it every bloody week, not just when the 'funny rubbish people' are in it at the beginning, stop lying to yourself, you have a problem! The people who do that are much worse than the ones who actually admit to enjoying it.
Of course that’s fantasy, and I condemn absolutely anyone idiot enough to view the X-Factor. You are a brainless human of the highest calibre. I insist that we all start thinking about what we watch on television. Still, as long as you’re happy I suppose. I hope those scary Shining twins win, and that they bring about the apocalypse.
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