With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen
This week starts with a happiness explosion from my head mind (but not in the pants, dirty people).
“Kimmo, you are the man with a bag of lucky!” say I, Kimmo, to the self inside.
You see, I am to review my first love.
Not a human person. But a reading experience of youth.
Yes, the books series that made many endless Finnish nights come to an end.
An end that of happiness. That in Finland we call “morning.”
From “A Princess of Mars” through the crappy yet wonderful “John Carter of Mars: Skeleton Men of Jupiter” all asses were kicked.
Green and caucasian. Those from Helium to far off Ptarth
Then my first meat whacking to thoughts of Dejah Thoris (so hot in my mind! Best whack ever!).
How could Mr. Hollywood put the screw in the butt of “John Carter?”
Disappointment is a pain that crawls in my stomach like a worm.
Or, here, like green four-armed Tars Tarkas (read the damn books!).
Crappy 3-D? Check!
CGI that is less than real than fake! Check!
$250 million spent on the crapping? Check!
Plot? Too much.
John Carter to Barsoom is somehow to there from here (Barsoom is Mars to Martians and others that have been to visit… Mars).
John falls in with Tharns who are green, four-armed, and totally whack.
I didn’t know that the William Dafoe had four arms – he is a good actor.
Carter (the hero) is played as a piece of white bread (Taylor Kitsch) with muscles.
And the whack queen of my first teens, Dejah Thoris, is the un-whack worth Lynn Collins.
Hollywood, you had almost 100 years to make a piece that is of a master and this is the warm pile that comes out?
Now even green, multi-limbed, bad-ass Tharns are like mouth pudding flavor free.
The loss of the hours wasn’t so much a hurt – watching my childhood friends of imagining being ass-raped (see “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo”) was a pain that I will remember as long as I can – you see, even with the smoking of many loads of the wonderful Super O.G. Kush I could not find the liking… only the hating.
And the stomach-crawling disappoint.
So I have no more to say.
One thumb droops in mourning – the death of my childhood fantasies and hopes are now the truth of the screen.
The other thumb is to be right in the Mr. Disney butt – so now Mr. Disney, you know how “John Carter” feels.
I am sad.
Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium
P.S. “American Idol” – cannot next year (if there is one to be) have just one woman (who doesn’t make the eyes pain) over the age of 18? The “Season of Fugly” will no longer be watched. I watch “The Voice” now, waiting for Christina Aguilara’s imminent boob explosion. I quiver with the waiting.