Tuesday, 30 November 2010

Rescue The Hitchcock 9! Or Else.

The British Film Institute, an organisation whose name you may only utter with your hat off and clutched to your heart and a tear in your eye as if it were a beloved monarch, are in the process of undertaking a massive restoration project about which I feel it is my sworn duty to babble at you. Here is a man with a vaguely recognisable voice and some ominous music to furnish you with the deets:

I've already rambled at length about the greatness of Blackmail (the silent version, at least) and The Lodger, and while the rest of the Hitchcock 9 may not be up to the standards of Vertigo or North By Northwest, they still need cherishing, protecting and occasionally cuddling. The term "national treasures" is often used to describe the likes of Bruce Forsyth, but I think we can all agree that the early work of the greatest film director who ever lived is far more deserving of the name than a reanimated corpse with a nylon flannel on his head and a soul-emptying line in 1970s "gags".
Having seen what the BFI can do for knackered old film prints with the exquisite restoration of Anthony Asquith's Underground, The Incredible Suit decrees that all readers should donate one week's pocket money to this worthy cause so that we can all one day gather together in a dark room to look at Alfred Hitchcock's Ring in glorious detail. And if that's not a tantalising prospect then I don't know what is.

So do the clicky thing here to read more intelligent words strung together more coherently by people who know what they're on about, and to find out how to donate to a cause even more worthy than keeping Anne Widdecombe on our screens. I did, and I got a free postcard and everything.
Restoration fans seeking further evidence of the BFI's wonderfulness could do a lot worse than click here. Clicking here, for example, would certainly count as "a lot worse".

Monday, 29 November 2010

Irvin Kershner 1923-2010

"There is no such thing as a perfect shot, a perfect film"
- Irvin Kershner, director of The Empire Strikes Back (a perfect film)

Leslie Nielsen 1926-2010

"'You might end up dead' is my middle name"
- Frank Drebin, Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult

Saturday, 27 November 2010

Saturday Playlist #13: Star Wars Episodes I-III

Lots of people don't like the Star Wars prequels. But then lots of people watch The X Factor, so who's right? Me, obviously. The Star Wars prequels are fine. In fact Revenge Of The Sith is fantastic. And no small part of what makes them almost as enjoyable as the original trilogy is John Williams' peerlessly terrific music.
I really don't see how anyone can crank up their speakers and sit through tracks like Episode I's 'Duel Of The Fates', Episode II's 'Across The Stars' or Episode III's 'Battle Of The Heroes' and not shed a tiny silver tear of joy at such perfectly crafted cinematic musigasms. So I've very kindly, and at no expense to you, put together a playlist of the greatest tracks from three of the greatest soundtracks of the last decade. Well, eleven years if you're being picky. Which I'm sure you are.


Friday, 26 November 2010

The American

It will come as no surprise that The American looks fantastic, directed as it is by rock photographer Anton Corbijn, who was responsible for some of the most iconic shots of U2 standing in the middle of nowhere looking grumpy that were ever taken, not to mention his previous film Control, which was also grimly beautiful in its own special way.
The improbably-lit Italian town of Castel del Monte looks fantastic, Thekla Reuten looks fantastic in a series of confusing wigs and fabulous outfits, Violante Placido looks fantastic in absolutely nothing, which she is for most of the film, and George Clooney looks like George Clooney.

All of which is a good job because there's not much else about The American to be said. Action and dialogue is minimal, and what does get done or said is fairly predictable.

Fortunately there's still the IMDb Parents' Guide to rely on in cases where there's nowt else to say:
But which is the mostest intensest? And what's the definition of "most"? It just doesn't matter at IMDb Parents' Guide HQ.

Thursday, 25 November 2010

Cancel All Plans For Weekends In 2011

In all honesty I've never really got on with Disney movies. I like a lot of them, but I didn't love any of them until a cowboy and a space ranger changed the face of animated films forever.

Still, if this isn't one of the greatest masterstrokes of cinema programming in cinema programming masterstroke history, then elephants will fly. For the BFI Southbank are showing all fifty of Disney's own animated features, one a week, for the whole of next year. And even for someone like me, with a heart hewn from ice-cold granite, the chance to see films like Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs, Fantasia and Aladdin on the big screen - even if you have to sit in those inexplicably uncomfortable reclining chairs - cannot be passed up.

The downside is that they only seem to be showing in London. You'd have thought fifty prints (or digital copies, or whatever they are these days) could be rotated around the country's movie palaces, but apparently not. Still, it does mean you get the chance to sample the Benugo bar's pint of sausage rolls. Oh yeah.

Brief but honest bit of attention-seeking contrarianism: The Jungle Book I can do without. Yeah, I said that. The album is all you need.

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

The Girl Who Kicked The Nest Of The Hornet, Or Possibly Hornets

The big question about the third part of the Millennium Trilogy is just how many hornets are in the nest being kicked. Some posters claim it's just one lonely hornet having his or her home trashed while others suggest there are many hornets who will soon find themselves seeking new accommodation.
In actual fact it makes no difference at all. No hornets get their nest kicked at any point in this film. In fact there are no hornets, no nests and precious little kicking of any note whatsoever. Which is a shame because if there had been it might have been remotely interesting, instead of two and a half hours of soul-crushingly tedious TV drama accidentally let loose in cinemas.

The Girl Who Kicked The Hornetses Nest continues the hard work put in by its predecessor in trying to erase all the hard work done by the first film. It's another painfully dull succession of medium shots of people talking, with a small fight in the middle to wake you up and a ridonkulous final showdown that seems to have been imported from a different film. The unforgivable clichés are still present, provided this time by a beardy, long-haired hacker geek in a dark room full of cables lit only by the glow of his Mac, and a low-speed car chase which includes the obligatory pram being almost run over but pulled out of the way at the last second.

Michael Nyqvist continues his semi-comatose Bergerac impression, not even bothering to explain the plot which went missing half way through The Girl Who Played With Fire, while Noomi Rapace spends the first unthrilling hour in a hospital bed and the second in an action-unpacked courtroom. Even she is so bored by it all that she dresses up as Edward Scissorhands in a vain attempt to enliven proceedings.
The most entertaining part is when we discover that the Swedish for "nasty shit" is "nasty shit", but that hardly makes it worth forking out cold hard cash to go and see it. What's more, at no point does anybody tuck into a delicious packet of Walker's Southern Style Barbecue flavour Sensations, and I think you already know how I feel about that.

Still, I did see it in the basement of an insanely expensive West End hotel where the cheapest glass of wine is eight pounds and the cinema seats are made of shiny new red leather. Proof:
I actually smelled the seat next to me to see if it really was leather, and as a result I can confirm that sniffing cinema seats is a surefire way to attract suspicious glances from film critics. Top tip: don't do it.

Tuesday, 23 November 2010


So imagine it's the NINETEEN EIGHTIES and TONY SCOTT has made a MASSIVE DISASTER MOVIE about a RUNAWAY TRAIN carrying TONS of MOLTEN PHENOL whatever that is and it might SMASH into another train full of SCHOOLKIDS and there's an OLD BLACK GUY with THREE WEEKS LEFT at the company and a COCKY YOUNG WHITE DUDE thrown together to STOP THE RUNAWAY TRAIN FULL OF MOLTEN PHENOL and they've both got BROKEN FAMILIES and there's an UNCARING BOSS of the train company and his boss is ON THE GOLF COURSE  and every scene is REPEATED by EXCITABLE NEWS CREWS and another OLD MAN tries to stop the RUNAWAY TRAIN FULL OF MOLTEN PHENOL but he EXPLODES in an UNNECESSARILY GIGANTIC FIREBALL OH MY GOD HOW AMAZING!!!

Now remember that it's actually 2010.

I hate 2010 for making me mock Unstoppable.

Important note: I wrote this review last week, since which time another, more cultured blogger coincidentally posted a very similar review (only with a fancy animated .gif because he is a show off). I was going to change it all but a) there's literally no other way to talk about Unstoppable and b) I couldn't be arsed. So don't even start about how I've plagiarised or I'll come over there and drive a train full of molten phenol through your face.

Monday, 22 November 2010

Source Code: Exactly Like Groundhog Day, Apparently

If you're incapable of understanding the basic premise of a film without tediously referring to it as "some other film with a vaguely similar plot element meets some other film with another vaguely similar plot element", despite the fact that the film you're talking about is clearly nothing like either of those other films, then you're in luck! The internets are here to tell you what to expect from Source Code.

"Groundhog Day meets Déjà Vu"
- cinemablend.com

"A mix of Inception and Groundhog Day"
- wired.com

"An intriguing Groundhog Day-style premise"
- digitalspy.co.uk

"Groundhog Day meets Twelve Monkeys sprinkled with a bit of Deja Vu"
- obsessedwithfilm.com

"Like a cross between Groundhog Day and Assassin’s Creed"
- filmonic.com

"Unstoppable meets Groundhog Day"
- upandcomers.net

"Groundhog Day-style"

"A strange cross between Groundhog Day and Speed"
- io9.com

"Takes a bit from 12 Monkeys, a bit from Deja Vu,
a bit from Groundhog Day"
- aintitcool.com

"Groundhog Day comparisons are inevitable, but there's also something of the Twelve Monkeys about this, with just a dash of
Quantum Leap thrown in"
- totalfilm.com

I don't know about you but I feel like I'm experiencing déjà vu on Groundhog Day.

Here's a promise. If Source Code turns out to be even remotely like Groundhog Day I will literally go out, buy the biggest hat I can find, roast it in beef stock and red wine for six hours at gas mark 5, sprinkle with herbs, add a little salt and pepper and ram it up my arse.

Friday, 19 November 2010

Alfred Hitchcock, Natasha Kaplinsky And An Exclusive Interview With Silent Film Accompanist Neil Brand!

In 1929 Alfred Hitchcock made two versions of his thriller Blackmail - one silent and one with dialogue, which became the first British sound-on-film talkie. Although the sound version is better known, I long ago gave up on it because although Hitch threw in some cheeky audio gags to show off how unspeakably ace he was, he still didn't really know how synchronised dialogue was going to work and as a result the film drags like a self-refilling bucket of boring.

A few weeks ago I went to London's Barbican to see the silent version of Blackmail, with a new score performed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra and written by tipples topples movie music legend Neil Brand. It was totes amazaboggles, and looked and sounded a bit like this, only a bazillion times bigger, louder and betterer.

Brand's new score improves the movie incalculably. Reminiscent of, but not in thrall to, the likes of Bernard Herrmann, his music reinvents Blackmail as a film that's as witty, taut and tense as much of Hitch's better-known pictures.
Neil Brand has been scoring silent films for over 25 years, and I've seen him perform several times since I first encountered him when he visited my university *cough* years ago. His work with Paul Merton on their 'Silent Clowns' live tour has brought the magic of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and the like to new audiences of jaded grown-ups and Transformers-fed children, all of whom had their souls enriched by the wondrous powers of silent comedy.

Brand also accompanied Anthony Asquith's Underground at last year's London Film Festival, which somebody wrote an excellent piece about here, and if you ache for further Brandery that there isn't room for here, have a look at his website.

The Incredible Suit was therefore quite excited when Neil Brand agreed to another future-award-winning interview to discuss his work, his thoughts on silent film music in a modern world and his troubling feelings about Channel Five newsreader Natasha Kaplinsky.

Hello Neil. Now then, this score you’ve done for Blackmail. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Come on now, don’t be modest.
I'm hugely proud of it and slightly awed it came off as well as it did. Two things got Blackmail into the full orchestral zone - Cubase sequencing software and conductor Timothy Brock, who took my work and fashioned it into a final orchestration which blew everybody away. Tim has a wonderful way with orchestras and a real perfectionism for hitting his cues, and I gave him some horrible things to hit - shop bells, the first kiss on the cheek, Alice's shudder once she has killed the artist - he had at least sixty precise cues to hit on the nose in 76 minutes.

When I first heard the full score played by an orchestra I cried like a baby all the way through - it was everything I love about movie scores, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra took it onto an even higher plane than that.
How did you go about striking the balance between something that sounded typically Hitchcocky but that you were still able to make your own?
Over the years I’ve developed my own musical voice which isn't like Bernard Herrmann or Miklós Rózsa, but does use big chords and lush textures. In the past that’s been a real problem - when scoring TV documentaries I was always told to simplify, do less, turn it down. Now I've discovered a medium that likes it big and doesn't need to allow for dialogue or voice-over, so the lushness and size - as well as the combination of simple melody and complex harmony - is reminiscent of Golden Age Hollywood, but is essentially all mine.

There’s a lengthy scene in a newsagent’s, where the actual blackmailing takes place, that goes on forever and is painfully tedious in the sound version. In the silent version though, with your music, it whips right along. How did you approach such a potentially snoozeworthy scene?
I was terrified of that scene. It takes up roughly a quarter of the film and stays obstinately put in the tiny shop, but I realised on first accompanying the film 22 years ago that it’s essentially a high-stakes poker game in which the blackmailer is continually raising the stakes. It's classic blackmailing technique - start small and see how far you can push it, and it turns that scene into dramatic dynamite which makes the shop seem all the more ordinary and the customers each a potential threat. Hence the loud shop bell, intended to jerk the audience out of their seats every time somebody walked into this hothouse Mexican stand-off.
Are there likely to be any more performances of your scores for Blackmail or Underground? People might not believe me when I bang on about them so they need to hear them for themselves.
I really hope so, although financially this couldn't be a worse time to be dealing in luxury goods like full orchestral scores. Part of this whole initiative for me is to throw a bright light on British silent movies - we have a great repertoire of pre-sound film which is very rarely seen and almost never critically assessed.

The BFI National Archive is doing sterling work to get many of these films digitally restored and out into the public arena, and it matters to me a great deal that they are noticed, nationally and internationally, and our own film industry appreciated from its inception, not just after 1930.
Quite right too. Your score for Blackmail feels definitive, but do you think there’s room for more than for the same film? In theory anyone could have a go, couldn’t they?
Yes, and they should - Eisenstein declared that his films should be rescored every ten years for new generations, and I'm with him. However, anybody who comes to these films with a view to scoring them must understand every second of them on as many levels as possible, and know how to turn that understanding into music. It’s a tall order and we now have a very demanding, film score-savvy audience who won't be fooled.
Have you ever been tempted to knock out a completely alternative score for something like Psycho or Vertigo just for fun?
I wouldn't dare.
I admire your restraint. So do you sit at home at the piano improvising scores for EastEnders or the news while they’re on? I’d love to hear your music swelling behind Huw Edwards.
No, but that's as good a way as any to train up as a media composer - I couldn't manage music for Huw Edwards but I find Natasha Kaplinsky curiously inspiring...
Erm… OK. Moving on, are we seeing a resurgence in the popularity of silent films with live scores?
Without a doubt. I've been playing these films for more than 25 years and I've seen them go from slightly embarrassing one-off heritage fests to mainstream cinema, with the audiences for them growing exponentially with the availability of the material.

Why do you think that is?

I have to say, your generation is much more curious, understanding and enlightened about silent cinema than mine was - as the audiences have got younger, the performances have got more exciting, demanding and numerous. Also, Paul Merton has done a tremendous amount to move silent comedy into the mainstream, more than any previous personality with the media clout to do it - being part of that popular resurgence has been a real privilege.
Are you only interested in scoring crusty old silents or do you fancy working on something more contemporary? I don’t think Michael Bay has locked anyone down for Transformers 3 yet.
Knowing at second hand just how stressful, thankless and maddening major soundtrack scoring can be for a composer, no thanks. Although if they ever make The Natasha Kaplinsky Story I hope they'll come to me first.
Hmm. Don’t hold your breath. OK, obvious question time. Which film score composers do you admire the most? I will allow you three from the “Dead Or Retired” section and two from the “Still Alive, Still Working” section.
Miklós Rózsa, Malcolm Arnold and Franz Waxman (dead), Richard Rodney Bennett and John Williams (still alive/working).
I’m ashamed to say I had to look a couple of those up. This “John Williams” chap has been busy, hasn’t he? Now, I saw one of the 'Silent Clowns' shows you did with Paul Merton and was surprised by the number of kids in the audience. You’d think a 90 year old black and white film with no CGI and in boring old 2D would be the last thing they’d enjoy. What has their reaction been like?

Brilliant - they don't think about it, they just react – it’s real anarchy, that uncontrolled laughter which we all have when we're kids. The thing to be aware of with silent comedy is that the shots last longer than most modern visual media, and there’s always an obvious place to look - physical comedy is more connected to us as human animals than verbal comedy.

Next time you go round Paul Merton’s house to watch Modern Times or something can I come? I’ll bring popcorn.
You meanie. Just for that I’m going to hit you with my hardest, most Paxmanesque interrogatory question. What’s your favourite colour?
Wedgewood Blue - looks great on pottery, also makes some of the houses stand out in The Prisoner.
Like it. Now it’s customary at this point for interviewees to make an unprompted, witty but conveniently concise compliment about The Incredible Suit, even if it’s a lie. Go!
You're gorgeous. GORGEOUS!!
Yes. Yes I am. Neil Brand, thank you very much.

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Wednesday, 17 November 2010


Lots of new film posters have "hit" the "net" this week, like some kind of penalty shootout which involved a really good footballer - let's say Pelé (he's a footballer, right?) - kicking posters into a goal with no goalie keeper. Do you see? The posters are "hitting" the "net"! Oh never mind.

Let's take a long, hard, coldly analytical look at a few:

Cowboys & Aliens
Rubbish. Is Daniel Craig going to spend the whole film with a wedgie?

Rubbish. Has Simon Pegg been mo-capped?

Cars 2
Rubbish. Especially if you live in Ireland.

Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part 1

There's a moment in Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part One when it's not entirely clear what's going on or why certain characters are doing certain things, and you get the feeling that the answer lies somewhere in the source novel. Which would be fine, except that moment lasts about 146 minutes.

It's not that it's not an enjoyable film, because it is, but it's a bit annoying to have to hunt out the nearest Potterologist afterwards and ask why Harry's stashed a piece of broken mirror in his sock, or why that old dear suddenly turned into a snake, or how many horcruxes there are / have been found / have been destroyed, or, most bafflingly, what kind of magic keeps Mrs Weasley's gigantic norks from dragging on the floor. Because none of those questions are answered within the film.
Director David Yates, having already made two bloated epics in the series, continues to fling everything at the screen with wild abandon regardless of whether or not it's necessary or makes sense, and frankly why should he care? He could film Harry Potter washing up for two and a half hours and it would still be the number one film of the year at the box office.

Fortunately there aren't any scenes of Harry doing the dishes, and in actual fact there are some great moments in this film. There's a cute dance scene that could have been horrendous but turns out very sweet, a genuinely moving death scene, a fantastic animated sequence and a remarkably saucy bit of nekkidness that will be most welcome to certain sections of the audience. I imagine.
It's just frustrating that it's all surrounded by gaping plot holes and fumbled storytelling. When you're heading into the final part of an eight-film series and it's still unclear exactly what the protagonists still have left to do to defeat the bad guy, or what the difference between a horcrux and a deathly hallow is, or indeed why nobody bothered to mention the titular Macguffins until two hours into the running time, then something, somewhere, has gone awry.
Still, despite all this it's ludicrously enjoyable nonsense, there's bugger all else on this autumn to rival it and if nothing else it does give you a chance to contemplate the remarkable engineering that must go into Julie Walters' over-the-shoulder boulder holders.

Monday, 15 November 2010

Great Montages Of Our Time: Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure

I love Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, not least because it does that ludicrously enjoyable thing of having a big, stage-set climax in front of a skeptical-turned-rapturous audience that so many great movies have (hello again, Napoleon Dynamite). It also has one of the best '80s pop soundtracks, like, ever, which will always occupy a special place in my heart as the first CD I ever bought.

Big Pig - Breakaway

Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure's crowning glory, however, is the pickle-tickling montage that polishes off the second act and sets up the third in a way that would have screenwriting guru Syd Field reaching for the tissues. And I don't mean to have a cry.

When the perfectly-cast supporting characters (I will always picture "Bob" Genghis Kahn as the little dude from Die Hard) run riot in a shopping mall centre to the strains of usually execrable late '80s / early '90s cock-rockers Extreme's 'Play With Me', it delivers the kind of warm, fuzzy hit that makes movies the drug of choice for people like me.

Just to cement this montage's place in history, I was delighted to see this entry in the IMDb Parents' Guide for Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure:
Ban this sick filth.

Sunday, 14 November 2010

Harold Lloyd: Ask Father

I don't know who 'popefucker' is but I imagine he or she has some interesting stories to tell at dinner parties.

In a vaguely related plug, fans of stuff that's good may be interested in new releases of some of Charlie Chaplin's finest work, available from tomorrow thanks to Park Circus, who are welcome to send me as many DVDs and/or Tesco Finest Ginger Stem Cookies as they can manage by way of thanks.

Saturday, 13 November 2010

Saturday Playlist #12: Danny Elfman

As synonymous with Tim Burton films as Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter and frustrating disappointment, Danny Elfman is in fact far more versatile than the lalalala lalalala bombom bombom diddlydiddly diddlydiddly he's best known for. For example, dude knows how to accessorise:
He's also fired off scores for stuff like Mission: Impossible, Chicago and Terminator: Salvation, although The Incredible Suit will politely ignore the latter for being disappointingly ordinary. Sozzles Dan.

Anyway these posts are much better inserted into your earpipes than your eyetubes, so The Incredible Suit recommends that you stop reading, get down in the cellar among the cobwebs and spirits of long-dead freaks, and...


Thursday, 11 November 2010

Ten very good reasons why
Napoleon Dynamite is perfect

One of the biggest problems with the world today is that not many people realise that 2004 indie comedy Napoleon Dynamite is one of literally not many perfect films ever made, by which I mean it's up there with 2001, Vertigo and Raiders Of The Lost Ark. If only people could grasp this simple concept I'm confident we'd see an end to global warfare, terminal diseases and kids on buses playing music out loud, so I see it as my duty to the citizens of Earth to explain why it's such a sublime work of art.

1. The title sequence

FACT: Every meal seen in this sequence is eaten by someone at some point in the film. Beat THAT, "Saul Bass".

2. The cinematography
Napoleon Dynamite is almost entirely shot in static takes to make the most of Munn Powell's lazily gorgeous compositions. If rural Idaho is anything like this I'm not surprised everyone who lives there is a fruitcake.

3. The soundtrack
From Bow Wow Wow's I Want Candy to When In Rome's The Promise via John Swihart's crackers synth score, the soundtrack is all killer, no filler; even Jamiroquai's Canned Heat isn't entirely unwelcome. This track isn't on the album, which is a crime against God:

Patrick Street- Music For A Found Harmonium

4. The script
"Do the chickens have large talons?"
"I like your sleeves. They're real big"
"I caught you a delicious bass"

I try and use at least two of these every day. That's why I'm so phenomenally popular at social gatherings.

5. Jon Heder has never been as good
The Benchwarmers, School For Scoundrels and Blades Of Glory may claim to star Jon Heder, but they're just diet versions of Napoleon Dynamite. I think it's because Napoleon's teeth are Heder's own, the poor bastard.
Fortunately he has one of the best fansites on the whole of the internets, which brings a wholly original meaning to the phrase "Official Fan Club".

6. The actors, costume designers and make-up artists do, like, well good acting, costume designing and make-upping
Sadly I don't know anyone like Napoleon, Pedro, Kip or Uncle Rico, but it's a credit to everyone in Napoleon Dynamite that they're completely believable, perfectly realised characters in the film's universe. In fact it's slightly depressing to see that, apart from Jon Heder, all the actors look like normal human beings in real life.

7. The dance
Films with some kind of rousing musical climax - Back To The Future, School Of Rock, Moulin Rouge!, even Dirty Dancing - really get my froth on, and Napoleon Dynamite's "dance" is a painfully liberating expression of friendship, blind self-confidence and absolutely not giving a shit. Sadly it's almost impossible to find on YouTube because it's buried under an avalanche of twats trying to emulate it and completely failing to get the point in the process.

8. The final scene
It's beautiful.

9. They're turning it into a cartoon
This isn't a very good reason why it's perfect but I needed to round it up to ten and it seemed like as good a time as any to mention it. I do hope it's not shittocks.

10. The Incredible Suit
Yes, this is where your favourite movie blog gets its name from. Now please stop asking.

All of which makes it incredibly frustrating that of director Jared Hess' subsequent films, Nacho Libre was complete rubbs and Gentlemen Broncos sunk without trace. The campaign for a sequel starts here!*

*It doesn't.

Wednesday, 10 November 2010

Tuesday, 9 November 2010

New Harry Potter Film Blamed For Global Poster Drought

Trust no one. Nowhere is safe. It all ends here. The hunt begins. The end begins. The beginning begins. Batman begins.

I'm exhausted.