Joe Warshaw – Behind the Proscenium

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.

Baby!

Let’s rock!

I lie.

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.

So pretty.

So smart.

Mine.

Maika Monroe – I will stay 300 foot from you, with the order that is restraining my love.

You say that the “It” in “It Follows” was named Kimmo.

If so, I am charged guilty – guilty of Goddess worshipping.

But then… then… your ding damn movie!

W in TF?

Oh Odin!

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.

How dumb?

OK!

Dumb plot?

Sure!

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!!!

Ugh.

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).

Explosions.

Pac-Man is really Pac-Girl.

Whaaaaaaat?!?

Damn.

I wonder who wins.

So.

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.

Trouble With The Curve

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

Movies follow my life now.

Not as much as the “Millionaire Slum Dog,” but close.

Just the last week of my happening comes “The Master” and what the crazy Cruise/Travolta types tried to do when they attempted my mind screwing.

Now this.

Clint Eastwood is older than he should be.

He has the olds that bring the crazy.

My eye orbs were scorched with the sadness of the chair talking.

Why?

I remember my Uncle Jaarko in the final Kossu madness frenzy.

There were no chairs, only a fishing boat. Jaarko stared at the boat, and with his mouth foaming the mouth juice yelled, “Boat, if you stare at me for another minute I will rip you back to wood!” In his crazy mind place, the boat answered.

What it, the staring boat said, only pickle-minded Jaarko could ever answer.

But he is dead.

This was my life.

And now, for weeks counted to number two in a row, my past is my now.

Son of a bitch.

This week the thing that puts the “I know that old and death are like taxes” in my mind front is “Trouble With The Curve.”

I look at the man who was the badass mo-fo in “Unforgivable.” Asses, both cheeks, had the kicking.

“Outlaw Josey Wales.” “Dirty Harry.” “The Good, the Bad, and Eli Wallach.”

Now babbling like three-year-old ice cream screamer, still looking like the icon-man, almost reduced to joking old guy who drives his car into people now dead in Santa Monica (Google it if your mind is unable to recall).

“I was trying for my brakes!”

No, you had nothing right in your head. You can’t tell your brakes from your ass. Yet you remember January 7^th, 1958 in detail that is perfect.

Time has taken its toll.

Youth is over. It is fleeting. It is rarely appreciated.

So, our hero people, we wish them to forever to be ass-kickingly beautiful. With muscles that pop out like a squeezy toy.

Because if they never crap the pants, get covered with spots, drool like the monkey – how can it happen to us?

So when the crazy comes, it is that our hero is finally losing the fight. This is not possible. This is not us

But it is. God dammit.

So, while the fun is made (and I was at the T.V. party watching things Conventionally and howling like the next guy at Eastwood being the orangutan – minus the turd flinging, at least literally) we see the mortality that turns us all into smelly meat boiling in the dirt.

Where goes the soul? What did I do to make the remembrance of me? Who will give a fuck about Kimmo if he laughs at our past icon?

Omega Man (and Soylent Green and Will Penny, his name escapes my thought parts – see these films) also had his mind become cheese.

Did that lessen his earlier stuff of importance (marching with Martin Luther in the Reformation, yelling at the damn dirty apes)?

God, the hope is NO.

If our Kossu late life madness is our definition, let me die tonight – or let me disappear into a sweet smoke haze somewhere inHelsinki where I cannot be judged and die in peace.

Shit. I did not do a movie analysis. Life is bigger than the cinema. But much shorter.

But… I liked it (the cinema film). I had a pain near my heart that I was in my eyes seeing the last of a hero of a generation.

Amy Adams, great. Justin Timberlake (I am jealous of his way), great.

Clint Eastwood. Great actor. Great director. Now old guy. As we all will be. Old guy, anyway, me.

Again, son of a bitch.

So, two thumbs filled with melancholy yet straining to the sky while my face rain from my eyes fell and made my pants look like the pee stain I will make at 85. I will see “Trouble With The Curve” at least more than once.

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

P.S. Kyrle tells me that meandering will be the firing. So next week, a review that will “Ain’t It Cool” be talked to.

P.S. “The Voice” is back! I think Blake Shelton likes more booze than Kimmo! Is that possible? Go Blake!

Tag: Joe Warshaw

Independence Day: Resurgence [REVIEW]

Trouble With The Curve [REVIEW]