Jupiter Ascending: 5 Anuses
So after sitting through twenty-odd minutes of advertising after paying twenty dollars to see a movie an old lady sits nearby in the nearly empty cinema and begins unwrapping Christmas presents. I think. For the length of the screening I didn't look in case razors shot out of my eyes and decapitated this human being with feelings and her own story.
Jupiter Ascending began and I was hating it in record time. A voiceover delivered by a woman we soon see holding a toilet brush very close to her to face walks the audience through the first meeting of her parents who are the Cutest Couple Ever. Only the sudden death of one of these fluff farts kept me in my seat. I so was close to bailing out to head home and rage blog about the Wachowskis final unmasking as people swimming in vats of taste destroying money. What happened? Do I need to watch the Matrix again to learn that it's actually not good? Maybe I won't do that. Maybe I'll pick up where that guy in the USA left off and mass murder cinema audiences so that instead of sitting through unending sameness and tweeness they can die with something exciting and unexpected occurring around them and in them.
I stayed expecting more bloodshed, at least twenty bucks worth. I paid with my soul.
This movie was a brutal march through the imagination of peasants who grew up reading comic books, then kept reading them and are still reading them. There are good comics, but that's hardly any of them. Almost none. How else to explain this original story that looks like it was painted in rehydrated manchild cum? How else to explain that it manages to demonstrate less imagination than the tiresome shitwave of superhero fillums currently destroying all human culture? I think I'm going to dig up that The Hero's Journey guy and shit in his skull and force George Lucas to eat it because ever since Star Wars we have been living the dreams of six year old boys who should play outside while we work out how to overthrow the government. Oh god I hate.
Twenty bucks guys. I paid twenty bucks to watch twenty minutes of the advertising that easily explains why bad things happen to good people: because they deserve it. You all deserve to die. Is that a message I want to be learning from escapist fiction? No, but that's what the magic of cinema did for me and I am forever grateful to be set free and at last become the terrorist I am meant to be.
I'm going to be a serial a killer who only kills nerds. They've had their fifteen years in the sun and now it is time to plow them back into the Earth. It is mankind's only hope. Truly I am The One, sent here to free you from your slavery. I will burn your couches and video games. From this day on adults who wish to behave like children will be told to piss off outside and use their imagination. No more toys for adults, T shirts with references to favourite childhood entertainments will be bullet magnets, the streets will run red with the blood of grown ups who drink flavoured milk.
By the time I am finished the only adult males left alive will be unreconstructed sexists and bigots, but this is the price we, sorry, you, must pay. Our sperm supplies are being weakened by cozy and predictable entertainment. We will rebuild the human race over time using only my trustworthy jizz.
It's funny because all I wanted to do was depressurise with a fillum but was instead blasted through an airlock into a blackened future where I rule the wasteland without mercy or sharing my stuff.
What a funny old world.
Come see me do the comedy.
Jupiter Ascending began and I was hating it in record time. A voiceover delivered by a woman we soon see holding a toilet brush very close to her to face walks the audience through the first meeting of her parents who are the Cutest Couple Ever. Only the sudden death of one of these fluff farts kept me in my seat. I so was close to bailing out to head home and rage blog about the Wachowskis final unmasking as people swimming in vats of taste destroying money. What happened? Do I need to watch the Matrix again to learn that it's actually not good? Maybe I won't do that. Maybe I'll pick up where that guy in the USA left off and mass murder cinema audiences so that instead of sitting through unending sameness and tweeness they can die with something exciting and unexpected occurring around them and in them.
I stayed expecting more bloodshed, at least twenty bucks worth. I paid with my soul.
This movie was a brutal march through the imagination of peasants who grew up reading comic books, then kept reading them and are still reading them. There are good comics, but that's hardly any of them. Almost none. How else to explain this original story that looks like it was painted in rehydrated manchild cum? How else to explain that it manages to demonstrate less imagination than the tiresome shitwave of superhero fillums currently destroying all human culture? I think I'm going to dig up that The Hero's Journey guy and shit in his skull and force George Lucas to eat it because ever since Star Wars we have been living the dreams of six year old boys who should play outside while we work out how to overthrow the government. Oh god I hate.
Twenty bucks guys. I paid twenty bucks to watch twenty minutes of the advertising that easily explains why bad things happen to good people: because they deserve it. You all deserve to die. Is that a message I want to be learning from escapist fiction? No, but that's what the magic of cinema did for me and I am forever grateful to be set free and at last become the terrorist I am meant to be.
I'm going to be a serial a killer who only kills nerds. They've had their fifteen years in the sun and now it is time to plow them back into the Earth. It is mankind's only hope. Truly I am The One, sent here to free you from your slavery. I will burn your couches and video games. From this day on adults who wish to behave like children will be told to piss off outside and use their imagination. No more toys for adults, T shirts with references to favourite childhood entertainments will be bullet magnets, the streets will run red with the blood of grown ups who drink flavoured milk.
By the time I am finished the only adult males left alive will be unreconstructed sexists and bigots, but this is the price we, sorry, you, must pay. Our sperm supplies are being weakened by cozy and predictable entertainment. We will rebuild the human race over time using only my trustworthy jizz.
It's funny because all I wanted to do was depressurise with a fillum but was instead blasted through an airlock into a blackened future where I rule the wasteland without mercy or sharing my stuff.
What a funny old world.
Come see me do the comedy.
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