Baily Hopkins – Behind the Proscenium

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

With Wit, Reviewed by Kimmo Mustonenen

Times are things that make men weep.

Most men.

Not Finns.

We are not the weeping types for being told “no” to World Cupping.

They let the Swedes (bastards) World Cup.

More than once (but not this time – take that, Swedes).

But we need no World Cupping.

We Finns can Cup for ourselves.

Sunday I will not be World Cupping.

I’ll be drinking kossu, smoking the sweet, sweet smoke and going back to see the greatest movie ever made – “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.”

Yes.

It is.

See for yourself.

Plot? Do monkeys poop in their hands?

You bet!

Ten years have come and gone and come. Monkey flu is the worse than a plague, yet plague-like in the killing.

499 of every 500 people – dead.

Real estate is now affordable in San Francisco (plague, please come to Los Angeles, too – I cannot for now afford to live in the Malibu – my dream of dreams – it is filled with fully figured actresses).

San Fran is in the shitter – with no electricity.

Humans Malcolm (Jason Clarke) and his bulge making woman Ellie (Kerri Russell – Kerri, if you ask I’ll send you my digits for that we may date so that I can have a bulge, too, if you know what I mean – I say this to you while winking seductively) are tasked by crazy eyeballed Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) to rebuild super electric hydro damn (Super Electric Hydro Damn will be my 10cc cover band) to bring back property value to the Bay.

In the way are monkeys of many flavors. Chimp monkeys. Orangutan monkeys. Bonobo monkeys.

But not THE Monkees. That would have been the shit, but distracting, so only full body hair monkeys make the cut.

They are ape shit crazy (get it?) but can talk and ride on the horses.

They hunt elk, but are monkeys, so they fight a bear. The bear gets bitch-slapped to the dirt.

“Fuck you, bear” say the apes.

The cool monkey leader, Caesar (Andy Serkis – really in green body suit covered with ping pong balls running around a green screen world – which would be so the awesome when high) says, “OK humans, just mess with the dam, or we will poop in our hands and throw it at you.”

Caesar’s best monkey pal Koba (Toby Kebbell – also in green body suit, etc., etc.) says, “Eff that C, we’re gonna use poop guns to knock you human clowns off the planet, yo!”

The war is on.

How good is Ape vs. Human war?

I forgot to drink my kossu for an hour.

An hour!

Same with my weed.

How the hell is this a possible? But it was.

CGI is better than reality here (I said this – CGI is now not always the suck). Apes were more awesomer than people.

This shit is real, friend.

Believe it now. It will mess with the wet organ that is your brain.

So, two thumbs wishing that I was a poop throwing ape on the big screen.

See this movie today.

Then see it yesterday (but you cannot) and again tomorrow (this is possible).

It will be worth every penny (or $16 if in 3D).

“Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” – best picture of 2014. Book it!

Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium

P.S. “Orphan Black” has blown my mind stem. Clone Tatiana Maslany and bring me four of her. Then I would not need Malibu. My Chatsworth apartment would be heaven, except in Chatsworth. Oh, yes – this I dream. You should dream it, too. Kimmo has spoken (with typing).

HEAR/WATCH KIMMO’S REVIEW HERE:

The Master

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

I was audited.

Not by the sucking of blood monsters – the IRS assholes.

That is numbers.

Easy are the numbers. No.

They tried to audit my brain stem.

Walking down Hollywood Boulevard see the hotness. She stands, nearly perfect, handing out a tiny paper for the handing out.

“Free auditing” it says.

“Go further into the Hollywood heart” or something like that. I cannot resist her boobishness (they were magnificent).

So I go. Free audit is cool!

They give me a “Test of Your Personality” instead.

I hold “the cans.”

My mind cries “what the fuck?” but it is too late.

I can be a better man, if only I have the money.

I will never get near perfect handing out of paper girl. She was the meat to attract this Finnish bear-man (not gay bear, you may understand my mouth from brain thoughts, or not).

I become aware of the thought that I’m surrounded by Scientologists.

Son of a bitch.

To them I lived 75 million years ago (thank you, internet research! You saved me millions of dollars!).

Xenu – the asshole of the story brings me to Earth flying on a 1950s Earth plane.

OK.

Then into a volcano, like a virgin whose meat curtains are intact, I am flung.

Then the bombing of the nuclear stuff. Boom!

We are all dead and floaty in space. Ghosts of space. Until onto bodies we cling, like ticks, or whores in Vegas with the money to make.

If I give up Kossu and the sweet weed my life will expand into others and money, greatness, and the ability to live in a closet (with Top Gun) will be mine.

Why this sharing of intimate and things that are close to my mind?

I just saw “The Master” and it is almost documentary in its truth.

The Cause is a front – cult to those who know what is a cult. No cans to hold on with hands, but Amy Adams… that is a rocker!

Plot? Totally in the face it comes!

First, Paul Thomas Anderson leads us in charming expressive fragments of the history of his protagonist Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) in mind.

Bird’s-eye view we see him on a warship with the noise and tries last night sleep high above the deck on a platform, from below him a bunch of sailors who party like sailors keep his awake.

The Second World War is over, Freddie is an alcoholic. Who isn’t?

A psychiatric admission and several jobs later, he is to have a drunk Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman) encounter, again on a boat.

Freddie follows, Lancaster is the leader.

Freddie has problems with Lancaster.

Lancaster has problems with Freddie.

There are motorcycles and a cool big boat on the floating of water.

And again, Amy Adams (yee haw!).

Much is happening.

Then it all arrives at basically “what the hell did my eyeballs just let enter my head?” And yet, awesome.

It has the look of well lit candy. Beautiful.

I need no sense to enter my mind parts. It is just good and cool.

So, two thumbs up, though slightly confused… the thumbs. Like the rest of my body parts.

Except for another part that is always up for Amy Adams. Heh.

Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium

P.S. Americahas gone to the dogs (this will be every headline, but I am always first)! At least on “America’s Got Talent.” Go, go you Olate Dogs! They know more tricks than a Kardashian whore with Ray J pretending that the camera was less than on. Again – go, go you dogs. Kardashians? Kiss my ass.

Tag: Baily Hopkins

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes [REVIEW]

The Master [REVIEW]