Independence Day: Resurgence
With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen
“Kimmo, you were gone again. W in TF, crazy Finn?” You asked this of me.
My fingers now answer.
I could not write from the jail house.
We were too busy a singin’ that rock.
There is no mouth music out of my face in the big house.
Or even the little house… L.A. County.
That is where my time was because I had a case of the stalking. Not my fault – she was the one that made me the one that was doing the doing.
Maika Monroe – I will stay 300 foot from you, with the order that is restraining my love.
If so, I am charged guilty – guilty of Goddess worshipping.
But then… then… your ding damn movie!
W in TF?
I tried for the drunkening.
I smoked the sweet, sweet smoke.
I, with accidental dumb, froze my nut bag with ice cream Bon-Bons (again! I hope my swimmers are still active).
But I must have to say – my IQ was shed of a good 50 points much like dog hairs falling in the heat wave.
IQ all over the sofa.
IQ all over my jacket.
IQ stuck in my butt crack.
“Independence Day: Resurgence” is so dumb, that dumb is smart to it.
Will Smith has asked for so much cheddar that he is now just a portrait.
His son (Jessie T. Usher) is a mannequin that is also a pilot.
Judd Hirsh is still Jewing – his boat is floated by continent-sized alien frisbee into Nevada. Believing is total, really – only 90% of audience went “bulls are shitting here” when seeing this.
David Levinson (Jeff Goldblum) is still on meth twitchy – but his ex-wife from 20 years ago is a goner. Or she is now French (Charlotte Gainsbourg). There is no explanation.
The there is Mr. Sass (Liam Hemsworth) who is also hot shot top gun pilot guy. He can fly anything (as well as not kill puppies when listening to Miley Cyrus talk – maybe the deafness has saved his brain).
Data (Brent Spiner) who died in ID4 has beaten dead, but unlike Christ took longer than 3 days to be the groundhog. He is funny, and with it has many more smarts than the movie film.
President Whitmore (Bill Pullman) has a cane, so we know he is the crazy. His daughter (Maika, I forgive you, and will for every time you have me arrested – so stop with that doing of arresting, OK?) is hot and is good at piloting, too. And she and Liam are in the Mile High Club.
Hopefully. If I was Liam.
Pac-Man comes to the moon, but we are all “suck it, Pac-Man” and shoot him in the face. But… he has come to say that… they are coming… Space Invaders!!!
Same shi-ite, different movie.
More coincidences that can possibly be coincidental.
Everybody ends up somewhere where the rest of everybody is. Then the other bodies end up where they are at.
Then some are in the giant alien frisbee bigger than Antarctica.
Then they are not.
There are speeches.
There are ethnic people on the radios listening to the speeches and maybe the World Cup (all of us ethnics listen to futball on the radio – so you can recognize us as not you).
Pac-Man is really Pac-Girl.
I wonder who wins.
Two thumbs, like the ice-box carrots that became mine three weeks ago and are limper now than little Kimmo in the jail shower (fear makes soft – fact), pointing dirt-ward.
I will have this movie on my eyes maybe once more – this fall – while drunk and high and trying to sleep and ID:R slithers up on the HBO.
I will blow kisses to Maika, squirt water from my eyes in love-pain, and like a tiny little girl cry myself to my sleeping place.
But for you? Go see “Swiss Army Man” – Harry Potter farting > Jeff Goldblum twitching. Fact.
Kimmo Mustonenen – Kimmo On Kino – Behind The Proscenium
P.S. What in the F, Great Britain? Now you are like Norway, but without pickled herring. And Norway without pickled herring is just Great Britain. Put that in your pipe and chew on it.
P.P.S. Maika, I forgive you… and will wait for you until Gemma Arterton’s next film. Then Gemma is mine. You have been warned! But I still forgive you.