Peter McNulty – Behind the Proscenium

RoboCop

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

I don’t want to sound like a bitch bitching.

Yet things are forever the same.

Scene: Interior: Hollywood. Oldsters with the graying heads talk.

Oldster One: I have no idea of anything.

Oldster Two: I have to poop.

Oldster Three: Back in the day…

Then, into the room walks a younger oldster – a goddamn MBA.

Goddamn MBA: We don’t for having ideas. I just saw “RoboCop” from year’s long gone last night on IFC. Let’s make it three more times! If I had one original idea it would be my FIRST!!!

End Scene.

So I see the new “RoboCop.”

I fall back in to old ways.

I smoke the sweet, sweet smoke. I drink the Kossu. Ice cream bon-bons pressed against my taint. And I wonder – can this not be a suck-fest?

Can this be a mind changing of my mind event? Then there is the movie start.

MGM lion makes “Thrrrrrbbb, thrrrbbb” sound with the lion lips instead of “roar, I will eat your ass” sound.

So I turn to hot Finnish date Aino (her boobs are like rockets). Her look says “you are not too high – the lion just “thrrrrrbbbb”-ed.”

Man, this is movie done right!!!

And, do lions have lips?

Plot? OK.

Then the movie really starts. We have seen this in the before. Cop Murphy (Joel Kinnaman), soon to be Cop – Robo, has hot marriage ruining wife (Reese Witherspoon thanks you, Abbie Cornish).

He is good cop. He must fight cops for who to them good is just bad.

And more profitable.

Then the kaboom.

Enter Dr. Norton (Gary Oldmam) who works for the worst Batman (Michael Keaton) to make a robot cop a human/robot cop that will make liberals squeal and let drones fly our skies and walk our streets.

And he does.

Black Bill O’Reilly (Samuel L. Jackson) lets from his mouth place propaganda squirt. We must have robot cops. Drones are for the making of the friendly sky.

OK. I get it. Today has so many more troubles than 1987 things must be redone.

Or maybe not.

Damn, thinking is harder than not for thinking.

But the remake must be the remade. We have no choice.

For one more time this year I feel that I am watching Brad on the X-Box. (Brad is asshole roommate, but he did replace his eaten PB with the crunchy. Nice first step, Brad. Dick.)

Brad’s RoboCop rides a motorcycle. Well done!

Brad’s RoboCop hunts down bad guys with face mask giving him cheats. Done even better!

When is my turn? I would like to have the game for the playing.

But no. I must watch.

God dammit.

The last half of “RoboCop” is watching the roommate bogart the controller.

Don’t bogart the controller, my friend – pass it over to me!

So, thumbs are confused. Stuff is cool. Stuff is remade, but not better.

Where is Red (“come on, dumbass!”)?

Will there ever be new ideas?

Will the new “300” movie be more guys covered with oil?

This job is hard and then harder.

And with summer movies coming, my face makes a sad.

Summer is coming.

Crap storm.

Who will survive?

See “RoboCop” if you must.

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

P.S. Austria, Finland will crush you. In hockey. In other things, maybe not. Aino (of the buxom wonderness), you can watch the game in my apartment. I promise I will not go psychotic. I cannot promise this for my brother, Olli. He may psychotic and die. Such is being a Finn in Olympics time.

HEAR/SEE KIMMO’S REVIEWS EVERY WEEK RIGHT 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: Peter McNulty

RoboCop [REVIEW]

The Master [REVIEW]