Tag: Jan Gerste

Riddick

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

As summer ends, it begins.

In the southern of California, my new happy place, I smile for the heat is less than it was and yet women wear no clothes.

Win, win!

Although it is a time for a movie suckage-fest that makes my brain say “Eyeballs! No more of the film watching! I am becoming a mush brain!” the summer has many of the good.

As before when I said, auditioning but never working actress people in sun dresses are better for eyeballs than Cinema.

Hubba.

Then, my sadness is rising as my body is limping – the heat is for arrival.

Hot.

Heat.

100 degrees and my air conditioned cooler machine works like Baz Luhrmann directing “Platoon.” As in, my apartment was to be cooled by American soldiers in Vietnam dancing to Beyoncé music while wearing gold-lamé banana hammocks.

Or to say with less words, the AC didn’t work.

My taint is a jungle. Steaming. Sweaty. With an itch that I fear to scratch.

Like “Riddick.”

The last of the movies that summer spits up into the multi-plex.

Just when good movie time is to begin again – movie Spring in Fall – the last drooling retard movie must stumble into the theater.

“Come on in Riddick – I can handle your drool-ish suck.”

But wait… I am in for the surprising! WTF?

I am all for “Riddick”!

Confession – I made love to “Pitch Black” (beautiful dreams). Radha Mitchell was to be my Queen (before even Ginnifer Goodwin).

Then my thumbs drooped for “The Chronicles of Riddick” (that had as much to do with “Pitch Black” as American soldiers in gold-lamé banana hammocks, etc., etc.).

I no exciting thoughts had in my mind for the new one.

Wrong. Yes, there is the admission.

Plot? Ka-boom!!! Good ka-boom.

Here goes (give me the forgiving, for this is short, as the spoilage must be avoided):

Riddick (Vin Diesel) – post crappy “Chronicles” – is betrayed by his own people and left for dead on a desolate, sun-scorched planet.

There is nothing to do… but then come on forces to mess with Riddick and battle the alien predators that beset him. Because the alien predators beset everybody.

These are not the alien predators with dreadlocks. These have no sense of humor and would easily lose to Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Riddick waits until he is stronger than ever and a team of bounty hunters in the universe can challenge to open hunting him.

While a devastating storm comes raging, swears the bad-ass soldiers of misfortune (clever!) that they will only leave the planet if they have the head of Riddick in a box – like the end of “Se7en” says Team Better Clothes Boss Johns (Matt Nable).

But with his enemy exactly where he wants, Riddick start his own merciless revenge.

Only he can pave the way to return to home planet Furya back. The leader of Team We Don’t Shave (Jordi Molla) is also in the way.

The good?

EVERYTHING!

Especially the toughest ass-kick woman on seven solar systems, Dahl (Katee Sackhoff).  Maybe more solar systems.

I pulled seven from the hole behind my jungle taint. And Riddick kills slimy alien monster bastards with his hands and other appendages.

Damn straight.

Then there is more alien killing, more human killing, and a big ass storm!

Yeehaw!!!

So, two thumbs reaching up to the planet where on day I will frolic with Radha Mitchell – even though the heat makes me wilt like the Swedes in modern warfare (oh, that’s right Sweden, you’re neutral – or maybe…NEUTERED!).

I was too tired to smoke the sweet, sweet smoke and too much thirsty to drink other than bubbly sugar water and I still want to see “Riddick” three more times.

And not just for the air conditioning. If for that, I would see it ten more.

Go, now. Or better yet, go yesterday – then comment and say how much you loved “Riddick” – and missed Radha Mitchell.

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

P.S.  Only four more episodes of “Breaking Bad.” I am not ready for an ending to come. My Sunday’s will more have Skinny Pete and Badger. No more Saul. No more Jesse. Who on my television screen will yell “Yo, bitch!”? My face is in the shape of sad. I will miss you, Walter White. Marie, I will not miss you, so go to hell.