THE EXPENDABLES : Dorian Yates' Cabinet

Now this is B movie. Nobody's under age and everyone seems to know exactly what they mean if not exactly what they're saying. Sylwester Stalone, for example, commands the courage few of his countrymen care to posses by selling the tried and true genre of the American mercenary. Otherwise known as the soldier of fortune, the Round Trip Mercenary is rich in the intelligence of others by definition. American melodrama may have plateauxed there for a while in the teenagers but tough as nails movie stars do continue to reason to exist and that reason confers hokey ho-hos in deadly situations.

Confused on the appropriate use of violence? Unsure of the caliber of sentimentalism, sarcasm, fair play, machismo, or I told you so? Never heard of the coke commando? Don't know which Swedish country the Emperor of Europe hails from? Never had Lite Beer? Sick of pushee-shouvee, touchee-feelee basketball hipsters? Don't think redundancy is ever funny? Seeing this movie should clear your head - especially if you believe that the gentleman hero tends more towards bleeding than humor.

The New School of America has yet to LaGuardia on the scene but suffice it to say, every proud homesteader knows that he is expendable if not quite ever replaceable; therefore, spiritualism is American and 'The Expendables' represents an American offering of explosions and sentimental oneupmanship. Bad men talk nice searching out competition to face in sporty combat. The turn-based action of the movie affords the film possible cult status. To begin with, Jet Lee finally proves he's twice the actor than Tom Cruise by drawing away the veil of pretense and asking for more money in English (as himself). Secondly, a gorgeous strafing 'rye and die' scene eclipses the acoustic merit of 'FUBAR' by dint of difficulty thereby far outstripping the point value of adolescence. Thirdly, Jason Stratham Charlie Bronsons his hat into the Steve McQueen and earnes Kevin Costner status by presenting a valid example of fighting style Leopard. If 3d musicals ever sack up to become dancicles, no Gene Kelly will ever have to rise to replace the urgency of a basketball hooligan beatdown thanks to the immanently civilized Jason Stratham. Thirdly, Terry Crews straight up asks critics of the American action absurd to remember the hard on Christmas: presumably when he might not be holding an automatic missile guided shotgun. Considering that Iron Man got Robert Downey Junior instant Moor status in Operation Thunder, I'd eagerly await a Mel Gibson book of Crews before presupposing that the paucity of Christian holy days would fail a hulking movie star. Fourthly, while mega-talented Dolf Lundgren continues to be sold down river at least he was cast. Fifthly, this is a movie for the single father who knows he shall always be more or less alone. And next to lastly, it features the fourth great oxymoron after romantic - comedy, military - intelligence, C O 2: declined - conservancy.

Perhaps 'The Expendables' are cheesy - perhaps they are too faithful to the TV TeleMundo world they seek to liberate and share too much a sense of suffering but the film features a real monologue from the actor Mickey Rourke. Whatever the philosophical underpinnings of the subjunctive mood rife in 'The Expendables,' Hollywood once again successfully dismembers itself to defend it's thesis that more is more and less is less in an often outrageously obvious idiom that recalls the long forgotten talkie and the immortality of comedy.

PREDATORS : Ein Rasa

The 2010 South Africa World Cup Show Case celebrated the great deltas of the Atlantic - Uruguay, Holland, Germany, and Spain to give Spain it's first victory in the world melting cup. Congratulations to the Peninsula Europa. Congratulations to the Romanced English and his green game of cushy fouldball.

On the whole, it may be said the USA doth protest too much for a nation that believes in employing flying androids to reign airborne destruction on the peoples of the dessert. They must become familiar with the concept of manual overdrive until they attain the art of fouldball, meaning, and Mexico. Yes. Mexico knows, like Muslims, that there is only one race. Some call it 'peace,' some call it 'slim pickings,' and yet most simply call it, 'Ein Rasa;' unfortunately, Robert Rodigruez calls it Predators.

Director Nimrod Antal obviously did decide that change was beautiful and pretended not to cast Carol Weathers. Whereas 'Predator' includes at least three USA Governors, 'Predators' does not seem to employ any. The movie is less thrilling than a gym membership coupon. Adrian Brody, going from scariest North-American ever to most bored box office ever in less than a month, leads a pedestrian lot of killers trying to prove that life is a free fall. Perhaps for his next trick the New Yorker will speaking Spanish. Shane Black had more, bigger muscles than Antal's whole platoon of plot scavengers and far more sweat than Antal's entired smokeless, sweatless, R.J. Reynolds forest. Which is not the Hungarian's fault. Nothing's the Hungarian's fault. There's only one 'Ein Rasa.' Wait till this one comes out in 3D DVD and then ridicule the box for nothing.

P.S.

While we did notice the tremendous Lawrence Fishburne who shows up to playact magnificently, proving that flattery does indeed get one everywhere, the rest of the flabby actors forget to placate and pander, thinking that cool is the hard currency; thus, the writing's bored, boring, and pretentious rather than writhing. Unfortunately it's not even worth going to see it to hear, 'We run - we die!' because not a single US governor - like Carl Weathers - yells it; instead, it's monotuned.

All I can say is once Dolph Lundgren leaped invisibly from tree to tree devouring his enemy, and now Tim Curry lumbers because it hurts more. 

P.P.S. Unfortunately, it's not worth the price of admission to see Topher Grace as a scuzzy psycho doctor get killed even though it might sure be worth imagining how Eddy Brock has all ready beheaded Topher for besmirching his likeness.

THE PRINCE OF PERSIA : What Is Yellow Cake?

The English make some of the best slaves - even before Shakespear, even in the eleventh century. And most especially for the children. They inculcate the superior attitude and are generally blissfully patient and sublimely ignorant. They have the widest eyes and the easiest laughs. Take Prince Dustan as the example. He went from runaway slave to prince by staging a passion play before the Shah. He never looked back. He taught the greatest army of Assassins English. How you ask? Within an enlightened empire, slavery is basically a pg-13 movie. So long as life's too skillful to bleed, romance too complicated to consummate, and evil's sleepless but incredibly unlucky, the hero entertains. Just so Gemme Arterton continues to elevate the British Field Agent to comedic heights. Her stoic and bickering Princess of Alamut elevates the sporting English slave to clever sacrificial pawn and chessmaster par excellence. Together, the pair of English slaves circle each other :

he - 'lift the lever'

she - 'give the dagger'

he - 'lift the lever'

she - 'give the dagger'

he - 'lift the lever'

she - 'give the dagger'

And all without yelling, screaming, or singing. Indeed, the repetitious nature of 'give the danger' writing made famous by hollywood's fools inflicts upon the richest of languages a search for silences of greater paradox than their millennia of existence in amusing vanity. Sasha Baron Cohen is but last victim of this gay and sometimes disastrous fashion.

Dustan, the English master of Nasaf, is like many Uzbeks, accomplished in engineering, the physics 'Newtonian,' and guessing ('statistics'). Of course he is most able bodied. Like his father, the Shah, he is a philosophical master and believes in giving weapons to his enemies. The Shah is a man of note : 'You must have more than implicating evidence to occupy a holy city.' English has problems with 'holy' or 'sacred.' One may easily define 'holy' or 'sacred' as 'vastly implicated,' or 'permious,' though most prefer, 'meaningful beyond hypocrisy.' Accordingly, Dustan is encouraged to be more than 'good,' but 'great,' meaning, 'statistically good' rather than just tragically good. The rest of the film follows the search for a weapon of mass destruction that would unleash an end to sand storms with something like a giant underground bomb.

So Dustan transforms from a meek English teacher -

example #1

Dustan - 'Cousin, your hand's on your sword again.'

Cousin - 'Where it should be!'

...

example #2

Dustan - 'I didn't kill father; I wouldn't do such a thing.'

Nizam - 'Your actions would say otherwise.'

- to an English teacher worthy of slow motion photoptic wizardy -

Dustan - 'A king listens to the advice of his council but always listens to his heart.'

Dustan - 'You had what every man could ever dream of having: respect and family but that was not enough... (you alone deserve death!)'

Some may object to the idea of allowing meager slaves to keep the power of the annihilation. The English are too repetitive and do not understand the changeable nature of things. They believe silence, confusion, and desperation to be the greatest solutions for ignorance. Perhaps, but they continue to consider Australia as their fate and noone else's. No English could attempt using the sands of time before falling off Australia. They are interested in carbon storage more and more.

In closing, the making of sand akins the brewing of water. Water is big business. Sand it seems is not. Ah ha, so you see Mike Newel, baking sand is and always was big business, very good. You achieved in crafting a fine movie for children who are in ignorance of boogie men and victor's demise but strangely not yellow cake.

DATE NIGHT : Compromising National Security

As the significant audience member, I like it when the terrorists aren't just whiners - when they're winners. It adds realism to the bag. Like when sometimes the terrorist must survive without killing anybody. Thanks Jesus this is considered edgy too or the terrorist would lose his draw for eternity.

Thank You, 'Date Night,' for the suggestion that, Hells Yeah, awkward is the terrorist's holy ace of many sleeves. And so awkward was cool. And so awkward made a movie of a public display of sim-robot-simul-sex to save the children to make awkward subversion and therefore terrorism. The programming of fake family drama for the Las Vegas hotel audience is subversion too and therefore terrorism. Performing the slow version because the fast version gives the snarfs is subversion, terrorism, and potentially hypnosis. So we observe lip sinking within a vacuum of entertainment as subversion too. 'Date Night,' the awkward, subverse me more. 

Thank you Mila Kunis, James Franco is not forgotten. 

Pitiful action might be awkward for the sympathetic, but relentlessly it's just too terrorist for contextualized words. Camping out concentration is a truly tried european model for killing people. And 'Date Night' proves the europeans are still wanting blood lust.

The lonely cohabitation of Tina Fey and the Brick is arrhythmically retarded enough to debase any pretense of international release by product obviously edited by the self same f.b.i. counter intelligence program that has found new life with 'straight to subtitles' major motion releases. Censoring the Brick, the wholly expressive weathervane of do-good vapidity only exposes the precarious regime of the current media monopoly and the certain changes that will surely bring more explication comedy to the world. People want to hear people in a controlled environment get on with it. Jim Carrey's naughty bottom makes more sense than all of this movie. Soothly, 'Date Night' might be the first straight to dub-over major motion dvd offering from the Americans. Time will reveal the internets ultimate decision on the quality of the out-takes.

ROBIN HOOD : For Love Of Waldeir

Robert the Loxsly is son of Waldeir Loxsly and husband to Marion of Loxsly and has gone waring never to return. When a man, poacher, scout, archer, and carnie recovers the sword of the dying Robert and the crown of the seizing Ricard, he, Robin Longstrider, must return the French objects to their English mits. He is not knave, and knows he will never get paid for walling with the dead king, Ricard the Lionhearted, long live the king. A mere mercenary would have made for the first band of rich people with the crown but Robin is English and knows a crown may only get him fartherthings.

Meanwhile, London's in peril, a French King plans to leave France to Ricard the seizer, because he has learned from experience that, '[He] can take London with an army of cooks.' So he's planning to ally his cooks with the British cooks who collect taxes and speak passible French, like Mark Strong (Godfrei). Mark Strong likens English to a gate he may speak and has much moxy. Such is the world of men into which Robin was abandoned; they all know Little. Kevin Durand plays the Little John with his famous staff.

Sir Ridley Scott recreates another wonderful baddie in the King John of England who doesn't even seem to know Little. This king takes credit for everything: 'I broke [mama's] skin more she did mine.' He believes the role of government is to encourage criminality by stealing private gains. Which is why the English are known to say, 'The King is dead, long live the King!' He can take a ribbing. So wise men in England like Friar Tuck keep wonderful things like bees: 'I keep them and they keep me.' Friar Tuck must make happy drunks who will only steal from themselves in this Dark Age.

Waldeir the Loxsly is blind. He cannot keep the crown from stealing English seeds to plant French crops even though such behavior will clearly lead to a French cook crusade. But Robin does with his band buzzed Merry Men. Robin plays a catchy defender of bridges. 'None shall pass,' is line that will board many in England. Waldeir teaches Robin that he can learn to carve stone but first he must learn to carve paper since he has already learned to carve people. Sir Godfrei the French rascal kills Waldeir Loxsly as the sacking of London commences with the sacking of Northerly villages. The greatly motivated Robin faces the scared King John and makes him promise to promise to stop over taxing. So the Northern English come to rescue the Southern English from the French Marines. John is so happy everything worked out that he decides to redouble his efforts and make Robin the permanent outlaw Robin Hood to force him to spend all his days carving wood.

IRON MAN 2 : Vulkan

'Welcome back to the Stark Expo - everything is achievable through technology - better living - leaving more time from life's activities...' Yes, 'life is activity.' Especially if amounting to nothing is a personal profit margin shared with nobody. In which case, thank you Russian Technical Education, you should be marked for very personal death. Or obvious body snatching. 'We believe in you Iron Man?' 'God Bless America and God Bless Iron Man?' COME ON!

Frickin' Jesus H. Christ could only muster water skis. Tony Stark invents new elements and straight up flies and the Suit of Steel needs community ego stroking by a living personality cult?

I get it, 'tears of the cyborg,' totally sounds like a deploying ballistic calamity. IF YOU VOTE FOR ROBOTS! Let's face it, Chemistry Failure is so Superman and therefore Batman. Iron Man's only existential crisis is a shooting-script. Maybe Tony Stark can't multitask paint job but not even the Stone Masons can confuse Iron Man! Except, perhaps, the families alcoholic. But Tony Stark drinks to attract sleepless enemies from commandeering time zones outside of the San Andreas Faultline of course! He's a superhero! 

"Anthony Stark possesses a sword of untold possibilities and he insists it's a shield." Yes, Iron Man 2 is replete with stumpy writing. If there is an Anti Empire Strikes Back, Iron Man 2 is it. Superman 3 it is not. Even though Nick Fury does't punch anybody out, celebrating a birthday is superhero for drunk. So what if Jimmy Buffet still lives in stereo, so what? Hermeneutic perfection is an engineer with a night job: "My bond is with the people; you can count on me to pleasure myself," is a campaign promise for the working folk who know ACDC to be in the spirit of Jimi. Anyone who donates millions of dollars of inane modern art to the Boy Scouts of America to dwarf is pro progress. 'Yes we can,' is the supreme technocrat who knows not to, 'Say windfarm - it gives me gas,' because nothing is impossible and everything takes time, which is why the evil competition proports, 'As revolutionary as this technology is, there will always be a place for man in the theater of war,' for me to target! Destruction, is not so much a scientific exercise as a mixed metaphor: 'let's just focus on arming it... make god bleed; people will cease to believe... and the sharks will come.' 

Iron Man may be scared of the likes of Mickey Rourke and his escapades but in the end he doesn't have the time to dialogue with the great aquatic and that's why we wait for Iron Man 3. Because Mickey is a worldly and interesting supervillian and Tony Stark still pretends to be Robert Downy Jr. so he killed his latest co-star.

BOUNTY HUNTER : The Best Man Wins

Go to the corner of crescent and get the news to deliver your ex-wife to jail for disrespecting the same court that granted her such a speedy divorce. Do so and collect five thousand dollars. Now this is a video game concept Hollywood! A fun video game that can be funny but doesn't have to be. Enough with the scripted documentaries on explosions already! Who's running Hollywood - a Chemistry failure?

Woman may be more the sensitive sex, but man is most immature, most vain, and most selfish and therefore a better mother, because it takes a sensible man to teach a child about the real world. Real men do not allow reporters on their team. Jennifer Aniston is a reporter. Sure, she herself discourages another reporter from helping her be a reporter, but this changes nothing. She claims,'I'm an adult,' and she has adult problems like investigating the suspicious details of a suspicious suicide. Apparently, neither the police nor the helpful reporters hate investigating suicides enough for this reporter who needs help.

Guy Butler is not police. He is a bounty hunter. Superstar detectives get all the evidence, but bounty hunters just get all the state sponsored prejudice. Guy Butler was married to Jennifer Aniston but now has a real judge to date with a 'smoking hot body' who is a 'great cook.' Teresa is her name. Jennifer Aniston is so jealous that she blows on Guy Butler's dice to get him to release her from her fate of jail. Guy Butler ends up blowing on his own dice and obviously loses all his money. 'You are not the boss of me' points out Jennifer Aniston who can tame Guy Butler with tears.

Bounty Hunter is an old fashioned flick which features a 3-d golf ball effect that would make Robin Williams nod in somber approval, a golf cart chasing a caddie, and the inimical talents of Carol Kane! In the end, the man who couldn't decide what color to wear admits that 'Life's about making mistakes and death is about wishing you made a whole lot more.' So Guy Bulter gets the girl. Jennifer Anniston falls back in love with Guy Butler in jail.

KICK ASS : Martyr Turns To Home Schooled

Ever been to the house of the rich kid? The one with all the bad candy. Why does he live alone? Why is the father always absent? Why does the kid waste your time? 'Big brother. Watch and learn.'

Enter the American high school space cadet. What once was drugs, music, jokes and bravado is now clandestine pornographic internet surfing and copious amounts of antidisestablishmentarianism. What he really wants to do in life is dress in a costume and help others. Alas, 'it's fucking hard to be a superhero.' Bad guys exist and the superhero has to be - badder. At school, the space cadet's rumored homosexual. At home he buys a sporty wetsuit and poses in front of the mirror, facing up the eventuality of staring danger down.

Enter Mark Strong. This is an R - rated film. Brutal and gratifying. And then an eleven year old girl steals the action and the show and we the audience realize that most of the stars are children who could't get into the movie theater to watch themselves maim and fuck. So what's going on here? Nicholas Cage... Again? Oh, home schooled vengeance - !

It's true that there are street thugs performing petty felonies but they usually work for a truly bad guy who practices graft, extortion, racketeering, money laundering, vengeful home schooling on such international dimensions with such rabid velocity that he cannot continue as a corporate criminal without a little petty crime - like black mail, grand theft auto, assault. So our Martyr gets knifed for bringing batons, a big mouth and a day glow ninja suit to prime turf in the struggle for life. Go Martyr go! And he does, returning a godless Martyr to stupefy a three person gang in front of a crowd recording idiocy on the latest gadget: 'Yeah, I'd rather die than let three assholes lay into some guy while everyone else watches.' And so the martyr suffers internet broadcast beatdown to save another.

Of course internet fame destroys the martyr and he attempts messenger. Apocalyptic Mistake. Once there were singing telegrams that could gayly ruin the day of the most feared individual and prance away with a tip - now there are day glow 'ninjas' who don't sing or dance and desperately need an 11 year old girl's home schooled endowment but will never get it because yet another generation of female assassins blossoms in the west to bloody the socially uncouth with heart breaking artistry and mind numbing rocksteady muzak. Bollywood must stop this Hollywood monster once and for all. Give peace a chance - this movie does not.

Need help? Can't get it because the world is run by a King Pin and an eleven year old ballerina with fake i.d.s, government information, advanced weapon skills, and expertise in all your prospective jobs? Well you're right, one will just sell you bad candy and the 11 year old will answer a cry for help with, 'Need help? Contact the mayor's office. He'll put a sign in the sky of a giant cock, gaylord.' Whaddya want kid? Childhood is way overrated and knowing is only half the battle, because sooner or later your going to have to fuck somebody. Knowing, practicing and fucking people keeping you from your job is something worth living for. Matthew Vaughn, I salute you, this movie is SOOOOO TALIBAN. 'It's ball deep in your juristication.' 'And I fuck you very much' for your portrayal of New York. 'This is how you brain wash.' The fact is, 'We can no longer continue to broadcast due to the extreme violence of what's now being broadcast live on the internet - what we presume to be a live execution,' is the state of things. Everything's under control. The big guys get the bazooka against an 11 year old girl because they weren't home schooled, and admitting that you're a cowherd is the first step to avoiding doomed confrontation. Lehigh em' Matthew Vaughn, Lehigh em' til' death do you part...

GHOST WRITER : Looks Could Kill

I don't know if Machiavelli would approve of theater about two Prime Ministers - former and present - fighting over the services of a writer as they moralize to the death, but I'm sure he'd consider it comedy. The fashion show of cinema has drawn Roman Polanski from the world of demons to news of Swiss politics. Yeah, it's, 'war on terror,' now and forever, til avalanche due us part. Thankfully, it's mostly down hill.

Politician: 'The worst thing about my life - it's so boring - I'm so out of touch.'

Writer: 'How does it feel to be so out of touch? How does it feel to be so hated... loved?' 

('Like an avalanche is loved hated?' thinks the writer...)

Of course politicians are actors that wrestle their egotism instead of reading and paying. Politicians should pay for spying don't you think? The taxes do that you say? They pay for the machines and algorhymthems? You can't be serious. The world's changed. Serving others by seeking royalties for government business is to be guilty of corruption. Secret Service should not mean self serving. Self service is private. A patriot of little else but pageantry and denial undoes his country through ignominious royalty. He feeds on deniability and makes glorious ignorant suspicions instead of capacities. I feel like period. You feel you me? A politician is like a child, he's merely punctuated, and so should be seen - not heard - unless of course he serves the greater artistry.

Enter : concept : ghostwriter.

A ghostwriter is a reporter who publicizes those who cannot tell their own stories because they've already been so wildly successful cheating others that they can't be trusted authorship for fear that they might cheat themselves and further frustrate a readership bordering on revolt. Very true, Roman Polanski, very true. God loves peace and is quite the ghostwriter. Ghostwriters don't threaten people, ghosts merely publish heros too stingy to admit that writing is the historian's art form.

Writer: 'Did you ever want to be a proper politician?'

Politician: 'Did you ever want to be a proper writer?'

Writer: 'Ouch. Ghosts are gentle spirits.'

John Belushi - good American - Tom Wilkinson - bad American. Not since Peter Seller's Clare Quilty, has the Brown Recluse been so stunningly portrayed on film. 'Bipolar relationships In A Multipolar World,' is perfectly ironic title for an artificial science, and therefore perfectly so pedantic a cover don't you think?

Way past the point where Google would take care of your ignorant paranoia with a single 'feeling lucky' button, there's a ghost in the machine making sure nothing gets blown and all that's black and white and red all over continues to be the news... Which would otherwise tend to be blue if not tragically black and bleakly capped like the North Sea.

When secretary has become walking stick, writer has become secretary, and prostitute has become publicist, the politician can play-act psychiatrist, priest, and whistleblower, and the ghostwriter can have an agent and the media a moon-raking union. Muck rakers used to expose the worst our society had to offer to dare the politician to form a more perfect union. Now, armed with late breaking news, politicians rake us like coal, oil, mandatory minimum sentences, breeding a more perfect state to unite coutry sides to traditions of justice and ignorance.

Machiavelli would be proud:'we had our disagreements,' (regarding mass murder), 'but we always stayed close,' some how encodes, 'the last guy committed war crimes - not me - I'm against that - anyway - he couldn't stand before my stunningly fair tribunal because he got what he had coming to him and now he's dead. So let's gather together in solemn continuity because war is officially civil before martial.'

Mr. Polanski has officially earned the right to direct operas... er, music videos.

THE LIMITS OF CONTROL : Africa's Magic Kingdom

"That's it. That's the way you do it: Money for nothing and your chicks for free. Andy Warhol believes in the can opener. My can opener believes in his canvas. A sledgehammer might be the greatest piece of art if you're imprisoned. Everything is subjective: no sex on the job, no cell phones and plenty of time to appreciate the finer things of life is fine. Reality is arbitrary. Life isn't worth nothing. Bohemians all work to join some European state that they have yet to move to. Want to execute the impossible? Distribute a code. The code inspires different things from different people as the code translates. Listen. These are artists. People have been very fine for a very long time. People appreciate hard things. Gold is soft. People are soft. Your accommodations are soft. Your final destination will reveal the names of those who would prevent you. Now those be bank accounts. Remunerate to execute. Your imagination is infinite and you are invisible because your patience is affordable. Having patience is magic if you remember that you are rich. This is Africa. We are one billion served by the richest organizations, servicing the poorest capitalists. Cradle of the saints, supplier of states, keeper of chaos, and unwilling colonizer. Denomination is arbitrary. Return your target to dust as he no longer serves the kingdom of the patient."

- The finest opening monologue in any Assassin/Gangster/Mob movie I've seen even though the translation was shoddy.

AGORA : The Hand Of God Is Atheist

The time is 391 years into the 'A.D.' experiment. The place is Alexandria, Africa. The problem is ignorance at least some 440 years after the biggest library in the Mediterrian started burning. The internets are in conflict. Let the Science Fiction Begin!

In an age where everybody loves a crowd, some men control crowds of men. These men are hard. They walk through fire but they respect wood; they ridicule statues but they attend to dead bodies; they wear black; they joke; some are even accomplished public speakers. They carry rocks and they administer the stoning. They're the mob. Their patron is Jesus Christ. Meanwhile, people that walk around in sheets with metal plated muscles amid irrigated temples of stone, altars of marble, and statues of exquisite realism continue to fail to recognize that a circle is an impossible concept and only a metaphor for a fucking ecosystem.

A street fight is brewing and the mob of unemployed carpenters - called christians - are gaining on the mob of unemployed masons - called pagans. The smartest person in the city is the principal's daughter. She's the headmistress of the pagan university. She knows how to plot parabolas, hyperbolas; she knows what an ellipse is and she even describes a circle as two impossibly close foci which totally blew my mind. But she spends most of her time talking about circles and the people who've used the most circles to describe the world. She teaches kids geometry and more than a couple of Mel Gibson's secret languages. She can predict the appearance of the night sky and foretell stuff. She's like a website - an oracle. But she's continually frustrated because she wants to explain the movement of the bright things in the sky through circles and nothing else.

(Sigh).

Now this is a time when 'witch' is a serious accusation. If a witch was an embezzler of state funds to prolong her tenure in balmy Greek inspired, Roman administered Alexandria, then perhaps Rachel Weisz is playing a witch, because the heros who do all the hard work in the city understand life to be a grinding stone and therefore define two impossibly close foci as being ground by the stone. These socially awkward christians who flourish in times of misery and live under clear night skies should be able to speak at great length about the manual cycles of long symmetrical movements and compare them to the fucking stars in the sky but the state pays a fucking woman who has figured out that the sun gets larger in the summer and smaller in the winter without caring to invent sun glasses for everybody. On top of that she still can't communicate the fact that the our planet earth spins while it rotates around the sun and the rotation looks like an egg with the yolk off center, making the planet's proximity to the sun, our fucking yolk, variable. Damn. If god wanted us knowing things he wouldn't have made so many of us such terrible story tellers. Rachel Weisz is not alone, there have been many failures in the world, and the things that make them similar are far greater than the things that separate them. 'We are all brothers,' says the headmistress Hypatia, or we are all slaves to ignorance. The common language determines how great the ignorance. This English speaking foreign film from Spain raises many interesting questions. The least of which is if I'm the hand of god do I touch myself?

COP OUT: Captain America In New York

What in the name of Thirdly Beverly Hills Cop?! For crying out Hudson Hawk!!! For the love of Kevin Pollack what happened to Tribeca! Stop Jason Lee! Ay Carramba, Sean William Scott is brilliant. The people on screen robbing me of my conquistador language experience actually burst out laughing as they're trying to 'act.' This all so 3 d. Everybody's trying so too hard to be serious but Sean William Scott is just so funny. Cop Out must be the prequel to Captain America. Kevin Smith is one smart cookie to make such a comedically b movie out of such an expensive icon given the political environment. People with guns these days just can't make jokes the way they used to on the screen in any kind of effective timing. To do it, it used to be, they had to be deranged by previous top secret heroic circumstances; they had to be psycho or they had to be the bad guy. But now a retarded mood unbecoming anybody who values their job somehow passes for funny because of the sucky premise of sucky gun wielding. Did Charlie Chaplin ever got a gun? No, Charlie got poverty and the world laughed. But still, Kevin Smith stands up for the freedom of speech, the power of a union, and provides the news flash that, yes, reality is potentially still stranger than a terrorist's list of demands. It's true. Captain America is jacked, demented, and on hallucinogens but he mostly trains cops in his hours out of underwear, which he wears to blend in with mob leaders who wish to wear underwear everywhere. There is a red meat movie here for people who understand guns protect a man's right to control alt zany whenever he wishes, but meat lovers must know how to negotiate pork because not everyone can stage a chase scene in a cemetery without golf carts and pretend he's totally invested in making a comedy and not a stirring cameo of Steve Rodgers on vakay.

GREEN ZONE : Calling All Warrior-Poets

Some people have a lot to learn. Matt Damon doesn't. That's a lot of difference and that's why the Born is back. Paul Greengrass and Matt Damon combine as force to prove that truth, sooner or later, allies itself with the omniscient if only because, 'The reasons we go to war are always important.' So Green Zone is a god fearing film. Righteous!

It's 2003 and George 'Double V' Bush declares victory in Iraq. Step Two: decommission the disbanded Iraqi armed forces and hope all professional soldiers will sit on their hands while the Americans continue misunderestimating the reality of WMD's in the large diggable desert local known as Iraq. Matt Damon seems to believe that war in Iraq without WMDs is a fraud. Matt Damon, Democrat, is conservative. An unfeeling liberal might ask a man with one leg, 'When did your leg turn to plastic?' Not Matt Damon, who simply asks, after picking up a prosthetic, 'What happened to your leg?' It's true, Matt Damon may be a bit too preoccupied with being the best conservative he can be, but so long as he's not a warmongering cheater he's a great hero to film, which brings us to the title, 'Green Zone.' It does not necessarily mean the area without stinger missiles. It took a lot of manual labor, magic bullets, and under armored hummers to fortify that fact. So if you enjoyed the bloody chess match of Spartan, the David Mamet noir, you'll get off on this day in the life of a Chief Warrant Officer trying to be the best detective he can be. The call to action is non-stop, the obstacles are many, and the morals are, well, preconceived notions.

In the end, Damon believes surveillance to be the answer to international police actions. Perhaps if the News Corp. was forced to pay the poor soldier on the front lines to wear a video cam to interview an occupied populace, reporting could end the debate over facts, save conscription, take over the entertainment industry, and elevate conversation in the land once again. But the incorporated private interests would be thinking above their pay grade by selling live armed dialogue as democracy to the public, because 'Democracy is messy,' and no one wants to be caught condoning the second amendment just to insure the primacy of the first amendment. After all, in Iraq, the US wasn't staging an imperial coup so much as a temporary hostile takeover and a public buyback replete with youtube razzies. 'What's going to happen the next time we need people to trust us,' asks Chief Warrant Officer Roy Miller - perhaps someone with generations of combat interest in the US's aversion to war. If our best is second rate, suggests Green Zone, a humbling lesson in the manifold nature of urban warfare.

A PROPHET : A Miserable Terrorist Learns A Living

There's not a lot of English in this film. But the subject of ignorance needs to be treated in foreign languages too. So it's a good movie to entertain a humbling experience without pain.

Tahar Rahim, in yet another fish out of water, growing up story, plays yet another sensationalized terrorist who bucks the system and refuses to commit suicide via explosive mass grave. Which makes this hero sympathetic - he just wants to be normal terrorist and aspire to assassinship. Let's give it up for the grinders. There are so many filmmakers identifying with the explosive ignoramus, let it be said that grinders make the world explosively contrasty.

A Prophet highlights the growing pains of the technical education. In the case of the destitute Malik El Djebena, played by Rahim, he must honor his mixed Corsican parentage to become proficient at French, Italian, and Arabic while plying the given trades of seamster and occasional doomed (expected) assassin to exit prison a hardened criminal after beginning as a misunderstood punk. If you need to be bitch slapped out of a lifestyle, a Zack Morris episode, or any concept of self-importance whatsoever, check out this flick, it's better than anything De Niro's done in ages. There were plenty of colorful characters and impressively hairy moments to make up for the lack of spiffy monologues. There was even a couple of cool gimmicks like a grin and a ghost that helped save our hero from death and dementia.

Jacques Audiard puts on a James Cameronesque performance as director of cinematographers and actors alike; the film is intimate and investigates humanity in the most dehumanizing of places, prison, by stressing knowledge and its deficiency at all times. Even the shadows seem natural! Audiard is the king of the world! He doesn't waste his time reviewing one prison to trivialize the entire system of incarcerated labor with some moralistic trail, instead the hero's trail allows us to enjoy the transformation of a character, El Djebena, out of ignorance :

 Warden: What do you want to do here? Work?

 Hero: Of course.

 Warden: Do you know how to do things?

The hero's silence is met with prison and the time to afford himself a profitable education in some six years of mortally dangerous prison solitude. The lesson's simple: life's a bitch, but at least miserable terrorist can learn a living in jail.

EDGE OF DARKNESS : Stockholm Syndrome Is A Roiling Boil

Mel Gibson's a detective stuck in the world of international nuclear spies because his daughter gets killed for making a video about dumping in the nuclear arsenal business that features her team. 

Mel Gibson, aka the director, 'Martin Campbell,' is not fooling anyone. He's going to kill the right person and collect his salary all at the same time. This is a good story because sometimes it just comes down to killing the right people. This is hard to conceptualize without an historical context so Mel Gibson tends towards besworded executioner justice because the world of guns is a dirty place where a few innocent eggs get wronged because of radiation. 

So you see, 'Martin Campbell.' 

Someone has to admit that there are many stories about people with nothing to lose but their near perfect executioner tally. 

From time to time Mel Gibson 'Doesn't know if he can make it,' but he is very hard boiled. The water is roiling even though someone spilled the beans already there's a lot of spilt milk. Mel Gibson can't crack or run, which only happens in tabloids - a very cranky business. 

All in all, not even the Robin Williams could have pulled off this caper so well. Mel Gibson's a good director and a funny man in revenging circumstances where getting even leaves the whole world blind, because we live in a world of 'fucking persons,' where the sentence 'Your daughter was flagged as a personel target,' means a lot of things to a lot of people. This a fun movie to see people who pass the buck get capped for being 'eco-savages' because the people who stop the buck get the 'comeupings.' Which is why this is a Mel Gibson picture because he's the guy with nothing to lose and it's a tough job so somebody's gotta do it.

BOOK OF ELI : Eli And Eli's Better

This one is good. Waking up dead with a six shooter is how the smart ones encounter the darkness lol! An atomic bomb is like an arrow : await sugar and battery acid and the all knowing righteousness to fast because surviving megatonnage is the metaphor for bullshit. It's lyrical how bad some people need to know how barbaric their children act! We all prefer the desert. The desert is our target right? Denzel chop suwing wang saki fashion detritus is better than Road House with the inimical performance stylizing of the dancing Patrick Sawyze lol! The Denzel Washington makes a fine keeper of the book of peace and violence and the atomic bomb. The slow motion shots are heart warming. And the mercy showed by the King of the Bomb for his fool - the reader of too many books - is heart warming. Denzel Washington is a fine actor pulling off 'it's been 30 years since the flash,' with old school flair. 

Old School is totally post-apocalyptic. 

Denzel Washington keeps the world save from his wrath so long as there is enough miracle, reading, teaching and bartering without any raping or pillaging. What do you want? He's only one man. When times get tough, he combines his sword, his quotable bible and his martial art into some kind of exponential super power that intimates the piecemeal boy scout. He reads a lot and doesn't seem to believe in the practicality of an all powerful air force. Nice guy. Single.

UP IN THE AIR : An Existential Guide To Firing

KAPLOWY! George Clooney must be trying to win his way into a Scorsese flick or ingratiate himself anyplace north of Washington D.C. where sacrifice can be measured by pathos and not teeth. According to my hosts here overseas, this flick could easily unite the likes of Biggie Smalls and 2Pac Shakur, 'for certain.' To twist a euphemism, this one’s strictly for the terrorists.

‘Why don’t you just burn everything and imagine waking up tomorrow w/ nothing?’ Feel relaxed? Capable? Do you recognize that, ‘there’s nothing cheap about loyalty,’ and that ‘cheap is a starting off point?’ Welcome to Dallas, hub of American Airlines, the evident host of the gorgeous opening credits sequence that features undisturbed, clear weather air reconnaissance of the major cultural center of America’s BreadBasket quadrants. Liberated American women familiar with male companionship may also herein be collected as cover if not whole hearted character witnesses.

We begin in Omaha, the de facto capital of Nebraska, the corn husker state. Know that here the terrorist has a home: ‘Retail’s down 20%, auto is in the dump, and the housing market doesn’t have a heart beat – this is our moment,’ to fire people. Here a truly macho insecure compatriot may be procured to aid and abet your quest to fire as many MidWestern Americans as possible. This journey really begins in Tulsa, which historically has served as, ‘the Oil Capital of the World,’ and houses many worldy, understanding speculators home for the winter before Tornado season starts in earnest. But be careful, Tulsa is a family oriented city and many American women fear mortality and may swipe at a ‘free wheeling’ man eager to collect enough skymiles to gift to his friends. So only one steak per meal or your cover's blown! Which takes us on to St. Louis, home of the Spirit of St. Louis, and Wichita. ‘There’s just one thing from keeping [Wichita] from being totally fucked!’ That's correct, the corporate hub of Pizza Hut's fucked if not for Learjet, Cessna, Hawker Beechcraft, and Spirit AeroSystems; both Airbus and Boeing maintain a work force in Wichita too, so anybody that enjoys a comprehensive engineering education may earn their god given right to fly there.

Be warned, the director has not - has not - stressed that the Kansas City landing pad is not in Kansas. And should you be breaking US morays by now, like harmonizing with suicidal tendencies in Wichita by suggesting that an unemployed person keep their suicidal tendencies to themselves rather than share them with you, you may become embroiled with Federales. At which point, you may grumble, in American, 'one should always promote shared feelings – especially suicidal ones!' Why? Because there are more sturdy fountains in Kansas City than Rome, coupled with a fairly empty urban center and Metropolitan News Radius of 2 million persons, so you wouldn't be disturbing too many people with your negative attitude so long as you never raised your voice.

By now you may have noticed all of the firing targets to be along mighty American rivers. Des Moines is no exception and officially means, ‘of the monks,’ in the US. It marks the beginning of the Presidential election process every four years and is the insurance capital of the States.

You have now earned a trip to a den of sin without any self-resptecting target to fire - Miami. Here, you may act socially retarded at ease and let your body fortify your ambitions with plentiful music, alcohol, power boats, and god knows what else.

Now it’s time to get down to business and fire people in Detroit. These people are notorious alcoholics and if you can fire them joyously, America is surely available for your own brand of wake up call. Which is why a venture to the den of sin called Las Vegas is in order, because, 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' There are pyramids and it is known for being lucky to spend money. But you must press on to your first coastal city - Milwaukee – where you must grow accustomed to the strange affects of sedentary living by the sea. It is in Milwaukee that one may truly learn the power of earnestness in all your future endeavors: ‘I’m such a fuckup but I love you so much will you be my copilot,’ is a line that will open doors in places such as Milwaukee, which boasts 13 Fortune 500 companies and a love for capital. The Santiago Calatrava miniature wing may also prove most interesting study for anybody interested in suspension bridging.

That is all, good luck and know that in America, all may be blamed on 'human nature' - the big #1.