Philip Seymour Hoffman – Behind the Proscenium

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

I was gone.

You have missed me as much as I missed me.

Yes, you have.

Admit it. Now.

I am back. In the rearview mirror of my brain is a place that forever will make me spit out spit – rehab.

Someday, I will use my hands as my mouth and type you the story.

No Kossu. No sweet, sweet smoke.

“Friends” all up in my “intervention.”

To have such friends is to need a good poop and only fart. Yes… disappointment.

Now for movie things that have been not done so long in the not doing.

“The Hunger Games: Catching Fire” – hells yes!!!

No longer in rehab prison I smoked the sweet smoke, made full my flask, bought Crunch flavored Nibs and to the Cinema I skipped – happily, with a smile face.

Why?

Jennifer Lawrence.

Katniss is back, and her clothes are tightening. So are now my pants.

My love is a throbber.

A throbber right in the muscles of my heart machine.

I am consumed.

My groin is “Catching Fire.”

This seems much like a lot. And it is.

My love for Jennifer Lawrence is bigger than it can now be, or ever will.

Plot? Okay.

Katniss (J-Law, or Mrs. Mustonenen, please Odin!!!) is back in Finland. She has the shell shocks.

Gale (Thor’s brother) wants to mount her. So does Peeta (Josh “The Lost Munchkin” Hutcherson).

With a Hunger Games win in the pocket, they must go on tour, and like Metallica they (my woman and the dwarf) must fake their love.

Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) is still my drinking pal. Effie (Elizabeth Banks) still needs a face punch. Evil President Snow (Donald Sutherland) still smells of the kidney medication.

The people gather in giant crowds of close to 35 people to see Katniss in tight clothes. And to start being revolutionary against all who have meds for their kidneys.

Snow is so mad his face is all smile-like and is so old he wants Katniss made dead. She does nothing for his groin.

A human weasel (Philip Seymour Hoffman) has a plan. Hunger Games 75 – All-star Edition! Poor Katniss and Peeta again must fight.

SPOILER ALERT!

Just kidding. No spoiling. When high, I am funny to myself.

Oh, one thing for spoil – Crunch Nibs are to my mouth what J-Law is to my area.

Boing!!! Damn.

NO MORE SPOILERS!

There is much happening.

Katniss has just enough tight clothes, not enough of the nudes.

Johanna (Jena Malone) gives us some side boob – I dribbled Kossu down my chin but was disappoint in the finality.

Damn PG-13.

So – much sadness, cool trains, storm troopers, oppression, cool fights, side boob, costume-o-rama, rebellion, and, of course, the awesome most woman of all the worlds that are to be:

Jennifer Lawrence.

Jennifer – don’t make me crawl to “American Hustle” to see more of cleavage heaven. Come visit me in L.A. We will smoke and drink.

I will post to Facebook that we mounted (even if you wish to remain mount-free – I would happily build a house in your friend-zone… really).

I have two thumbs straight up in the air. And more – but PG-13 movie makes for PG-13 review. You must, in your imagination place, see what else shoots skyward.

See this movie twice. Make my future wife rich.

Thank you.

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

P.S. “American Horror Story: Coven.” WTF? Better than that shit-stink “Asylum,” but still… WTF?

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: Philip Seymour Hoffman

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire [REVIEW]

The Master [REVIEW]