Goran D Kleut – Behind the Proscenium

I, Frankenstein

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

The cinema is big and of beautiful.

So is life.

But life is realer.

Can it be more real than when Olli, my beloved old brother, had two weeks ago his life mud suddenly stop in his heart, with heart pain, almost become a time for him to party with Jesus?

THAT is realer than real.

Olli lives, but no more bacon and Kossu.

The hearing of this almost made my life mud stop.

No bacon or Kossu is not for a happy living.

It is not life at all.

Like “I, Frankenstein” is not a movie at all.

No.

Too many movie films are just like my Friday nights – I take the sweet, sweet smoke then I slurp the lovely Kossu into my stomach place followed by Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos.

Then I watch my goddamn roommate (Brad, you are not goddamned if you stop eating my peanut butter, OK?) play “Demon Kill Fun Time IV” on the X-box because my hands are too wasted for playing.

When I watch the game “Demon Kill Fun Time IV” I think my eyeballs see “Underworld” or “Underworld VI” or any in between for there are many.

But I am wrong.

And Aaron Eckhart is not Kate Beckinsale.

And that gives me the sadness.

Plot? Uh, sure.

Frankenstein (Aaron Eckhart again) is still the Frankenstein we remember.

This lasts for a minute.

While digging a grave he finds a demon disco and the demons want his ass. Stoner gargoyles make him saved!

Then gargoyles (with Amanda Otto leader) and demons (with Shaun’s stepfather Bill Nighy) are said to be in epic fight (definitely not vampires and werewolves, that would be unoriginal!) that has lasted through history and longer than the runtime of this shit storm film.

Or so it feels.

Then to the now. Terra (Yvonne Strahovski) is playing with rats – it is Hollywood, am I right?!?

BAM!!!

And the rat playing is in a laboratory above Dead Demons Who Need Souls Disneyland.

And the demons want Frankenstein’s secret for his perfect jaw. The gargoyles don’t think demons should have jaws of perfection.

Epic battles follow. Who wins?

Wait two months and see this on Netflix. Of if it makes the large bags of money cash, see the next 5 Frankenstein films if you have nothing in your life worth doing.

Dear Hollywood: Just because you say demons are not vampires and gargoyles are not lycans and give the same funny face make-up and bad CGI to movies with darkness and creepy electronic music does not make you original.

Sometimes, there needs be something new – called this new thing is in Finland called A STORY.

The story must be for the first time telling. The otherwise, you have nothing but steaming poop.

Steaming poop that we have seen.

Steaming poop that is losing its steam.

And without steam, poop is just a pile of “I, Frankenstein.”

So, two thumbs that don’t want to be around cold poop.

Aaron Eckhart is not Kate Beckinsale. But then, there is no other Kate Beckinsale to be had – this is truth.

I have watched this video game before.

On my TV.

Played by my roommate Brad.

With better graphics.

And more original story, even when all I do is suck my Cheetos, gargle my Kossu, and breathe the smoke.

Heaven, really, on earth and my apartment. But not in the cinema.

There is nothing there but my butt getting sore.

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

P.S. Dear Olli, if this is for you to read, tell me: Is life really the life without bacon? When your life mud stopped for that time in your muscle heart, did you see Uncle Jaarko? And if so, is he still mad that I owe him money? Tell me the truth, right in to my ear. It can be taken.

P.P.S. “The Returned” is creepy cool – because it is French no doubt. French are creepy cool that way. And red-head French twins (when legal) are hot, Hot, HOT!!! See it, if you are daring.

P.P.P.S. Brad, if on a peanut butter purchase today, get on the crunchy. Creamy is for the weak.

The Great Gatbsy

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

I have a changing of ways.

Too many movies have been battered by the tongues and other mouth parts of reviewers around me at screenings for the press.

My colleagues are dark clouds that also think they are smart clouds.

No fun.

They aren’t even clouds!

I went out to see a movie, paying with my own treasure, and sat amongst you people for thinking that my eye holes would see like your eye holes – that there would be no darkness.

I was stupid.

My first sadness – I have to see “The Great Gatsby” by über-hack Baz Luhrmann. He is stuck in most rememberings as the man who pulled down his pants, grabbed each butt-cheek, bent over, and sprayed “Moulin Rouge” on movie screens.

I don’t mind. I now know that to un-crapify “Gatsby” I just need to lap up Kossu. Then the real part of reality rips my knowledge – “closed” says the sign on the Theater Bar!

The Theater Bar is closed!

They are having a “We Love You Mr. Gatsby and Baz Luhrmann, too, So We Will Dress Up As Time Travelers From One of Gatsby’s Make Believe Movie Parties” party so… no public in the bar!

That is me! Madness! Anarchy!

I mind thoughts are now limp. No Kossu – my heart will have no armor and will be in pain.

Terrible pain.

Note to American Women – in the 1920’s, flapper women had no extra skin. They had a Depression coming and so practiced starving. They were hot as smoke in little flapper dresses.

Modern women have become hippos with the sucking of McDonald’s meat in through their lip gap. My eyes were scorched by a 21^st Century flapper herd moving through the lobby.

There was flapping – but it was giant arm sausages flapping against other bare skin.

So never, in my life time, dress this way again.

Now a review.

Baz Luhrmann had someone say, “Hey Baz! Let me tell you about a book my eyes read to me long ago! It is romantic. So listen to my mouth repeat it…”

So Baz never read the book.

The story opens with a sad Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) being sad because he ran out of alcohol.

So he goes to a Sad Home and makes a Doctor listen to his bitching about rich people.

His brain wanders through history to a feminine product commercial with lots of curtains getting wind blown and sees his cousin Daisy Duke (Carey Mulligan – cute, but too much clothing). Her husband is a dick, so Peter goes to a party next door at Gay Disneyland Heaven – wanting the meet The Great Gatsby.

He does.

Then the fever dream (still very feverish) takes Peter on Mr. Gatsby’s Wild Ride (coming soon to Baz Luhrmann’s Gay Disneyland Heaven with even more CGI and 3-D!) and eat lunch at a barber shop that serves lobster (covered with tribbles and fine herbs – this shit is not made up).

A time travel band from 2013 plays music that makes no sense.

At this point – there is great joy… I found an old joint in my jacket pocket of “contraband-and-fun-times” and inhaled the sweet, sweet smoke from my mouth and into my mind-brain while in the Men’s Crapper – then bought Hot Tamales and a large Coke.

Because of my lucky joint, the last 40 minutes wasn’t too much suck.

Leonardo DiCaprio did not stink. He now looks almost 16 in human years, but was not as good as recently in “Unchain Django!”

There were other actors.

And car chases I remember making up in my “Only I See It” world in my mind when I was 5.

There was a cute dog eating from a plate.

And whores – and politicians (these are the same).

So, one thumb, saying with much relief, “Thank you Odin – this was not the great brain rape that was Moulin Rouge!”

The other thumb saying, “Mr. Luhrmann – if you are going to steal ideas, steal good ones – better movie for everyone!”

Both thumbs were much recovered in happiness when the smoke finally calmed all to calmness. If only I had Kossu in the first times and not had my vision assaulted by flapper cows.

At least they didn’t “moo” for Leonardo…

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

P.S. There is much for hoping! A better “Gatsby” is in the future – and a music filled musical! See the early rehearsals for “That’s Gatsby” and purge your brain of Luhrmann-cheese.

You’re welcome.

Tag: Goran D Kleut

I, Frankenstein [REVIEW]

The Great Gatsby [REVIEW]