Wall*E was my favourite movie of the year. This little gem from the masters of all things awesome, Pixar, is a story about a horribly polluted future where the Earth is unsuitable for human habitation. Everyone on Earth is piled into a spaceship to live, while thousand of little robots to clear up the mess back home. 500 years later, there's only one robot still trucking away to clean up all the shit that's been left behind.
This flick is unbelievably gorgeous to look at, is smart, funny and moving. If you don't choke up with emotion at one point during this film, you should head into the nearest crowbar store (or even a crowbar museum, if one is available) and beat yourself up a bit. The fact that the first hour or so of this film has dialogue that could quite easily be written onto an ant's left testicle in the middle of winter and still have room for the shopping list (bread, milk, cereal, dim sims) doesn't detract from the story, the characters, the atmosphere or the humour one iota. This movie should win every Academy Award ever; it's just that good ("and the 1926 Oscar for best costuming in a period drama, musical or comedy goes to... Wall*E!"). If I had to pick a flaw in the film, I'd say that it doesn't have any dinosaurs in it.
Hungry Jack's Angry Whopper promises so much. So damn much. And it delivers little. I'm sorry, HJs, but you're never going to be at the top of the "Mister Evil Breakfast's Awesome Fast Food Places To Have A Snack At" (MEBAFFPTHASA) list, and this burger isn't helping your cause. Let's get into the nitty gritty of it - they've taken a Whopper and added spicy sauce, deep-fried onions and jalapenos to create what should amount to something that will burn your face off and evaporate your blood the second you unwrap it. The guys who make it in the kitchen should be handling the ingredients with giant tongs and welding masks. In reality, what they've done is create a "fiery" Whopper burger that is somehow less spicy than a regular Whopper, despite the addition of chilli. Congrats, Jacks.
The flames on the bag are printed. The ice in my Coke was mild compared to the spice of the Angry Whopper
Kath n Kim: American Version. I'm not going to lie to you - I'm not really much of a fan of the Aussie Kath n Kim. How they ever managed to stretch out three jokes for eight years (or however long the show's been going) is beyond me. Oh look, she's got bum-crack sticking out. Hilarious. She can't pronounce 'chardonnay'. Brilliant. That guy has shit hair. Classic. The US version of our "foxy morons" (side-splitting) has taken our show and ignored everything about it that made it popular. Aussie Kath n Kim is a parody of middle-to-low socio-economic life. US Kath n Kim seems to be a parody of a television show. Not only did the writers (and I use that term loosely) omit the three jokes that made the original series funny, they decided to remove absolutely every element of humour altogether. I watched one episode, and had to set fire to my television afterwards, for fear of having the urge to watch it again next week. The storyline (another loose term) consisted of Kath trying to book a horse-drawn carriage for her wedding, while her fiancé created a new sandwich in his shop for her - wait for it, it's TUNA and SAUSAGE. LOL ROFL those foods don't go together! In other parts of the show, Kim wasn't sure whether to break up with her boyfriend, until he tells her that he's going to breed his dog and receive seventeen shit-tins of money for it. So she doesn't break up with him after all. LMAO she is such a scammer! I feel sorry for everyone involved with this show, including the viewers - perhaps the loosest term in this review.
I was greeted by a trillion people in line to buy tickets, and only one person (who looked to be celebrating the onset of puberty) serving at the ticket booth and candy bar. I can’t really remember when the two booths became one, but if you’re not after popcorn, drinks, ice-creams or choccies, it’s annoying while the twelve thousand people in front of you debate whether to get M&Ms or Maltesers, and what size Coke to get. Just get a fucking large, and step aside - I’ve got some James Bond to see here, and all I want is a fucking ticket. The 14-year old ticket kid advises that the movie has already started, and I should make my way straight inside. Thanks, genius. Although I wouldn’t have been late if you didn’t ask me if I wanted each individually item this place has to offer. “You want these M&Ms?” “No.” “These ones?” “No.” “These ones?” “No. Wait. No.” “This popcorn?” “No.” “This popcorn?” “Yes.” “Really?” “No.” I don’t want your fucking popcorn - I’m here with my dad, and he doesn’t appreciate it when I spill popcorn down his shirt or stick it in his ears. Actually, no-one I’ve gone to the movies with appreciates that, but I think I can get away with it more.
So there’s a flunky who rips my ticket (secretly, I want his job) and sends me to Cinema 3. “Second door on the left,” he tells me. AKA the door with the big “3” above it. The kid at the ticket desk said the movie had already started. It hadn’t. I could have actually watched six other films before James Bond really started. Previews, previews, ads, previews, ads, ads, ads (it seems to be a rule that you can’t create a decent commercial for the cinema audience), preview, preview, preview, ad, ad for Hoyts (which is always handy in case you thought you were at Dendy or something), ad, preview, ad, and fucking finally the movie starts. I don’t want to sound old here, but there were too many previews (and I love previews). And none of them were for good movies. So James Bond comes on and it’s all well and good until my eardrums literally exploded and everyone around me was covered in ear-blood. I tried to call for help, but no-one could hear me. It really was quite a loud movie.
If a movie has to rely on having “awesome sound” to be good, the chances are that it was a shitbox of a film to start with. I’m not putting Quantum of Salsa in that category, but it kind of made me hate it more than I should have. The stupid thing was that despite the volume, the dialogue was still hard to understand; possibly because of some feedback, possibly because of my melted eardrums and possibly because there was none worth listening to.
And then they turned on the air-conditioning, despite the fact that it was about 5 degrees outside. They should have handed out promotional beanies or given everyone a hip flask with whiskey in it. Or they could have left the air-con off for a bit. I dunno, maybe I’m just being radical.
Hoyts Woden Cinema 3: You get one gold star, and I’m going to steal something from you next time I’m there.
The "If it's hot, it's Hoyts" campaign was wrong in so many ways
Four random reviews, three ways to get rich, too many beers and a bright shiny new crowbar.