Jacob Kelly's Funeralopolis Vol. 2 Issue 7: Shark Week!

In this weeks Issue:

Page 1-Sterling Kingfisher Does Shark Week

Hola, there's a Spanish phrase I want you to learn and that's, "Vamos a la Playa!", meaning "let's go to the beach!". Whether you live in a seaside town or as far in land as it gets, none of this matters because this issue of Funeralopolis is taking you straight to the beach. A free shuttle service from your house to a magical place where everywhere you step your toes will be covered in smooth sand. Everyone is invited but Anakin Skywalker. Leave your problems at home, make your way over to the bar where Tom Cruise is fixing up some fine cocktails as we speak. For starters, we have new comer Sterling Kingfisher, our first outside writer to do a piece, documenting this years Shark Week. A life-long film fan and critic takes his first steps back in the ocean. Just don't call it a comeback!

Page 13-Kelly Gets Deep in the Trenches

Oi, you heard the word? Statham's stocking up on them spears again, climbing aboard a jet ski and fighting his arch nemesis, The Meg. Kelly's going deep in the trenches, getting to the very heart of this epic timeless battle of man and beast. This can only mean one thing right? It means plastic containers of wine in the cinema and drinking every time someone mentions the titular beast. Ricardo Carvalho, Danger Mouse and Kelly seize a submersible with one destination in sight: the trenches. But as you all well know, this isn't a good year for submersibles and danger may follow. As he writes, a bond begins to form and Kelly's love for the creature that is The Meg only grows. Can British born Ben Wheatley fight the studios and leave his mark on this franchise? All will be revealed on Fun Island.

Page 20-Shootin' Off Kenergy

Patriarchy and matriarchy scrap it out on the beaches of Barbieland. My dudes, Ken is representing us, he is fighting and possibly dying for our right to boys night every night. Honour your leader and show up in big numbers for this delightful doll movie which can only be described as Jacques Tati on Sauvignon Blanc. With its frequent nods to Frankie Avalon and Elvis movies, you might just end up the most wine drunk you've been since Mamma Mia so be very careful. Notes are taken on Ryan Gosling's incredible shift and our desires for this to be more of a subversive Joe Dante picture. Kelly takes his very own Barbie to the cinema and follows up with some crazy golf in town. Copious amounts of wine come back to haunt them as they disgrace the game of golf, leaving it in a state it hasn't seen since the likes of Happy Gilmore.

Sterling Kingfisher Does Shark Week

Well, I guess I best introduce myself. My name is Sterling Kingfisher. I'm told I have a very square face and not much of a neck. A superheroes chin but not the physique. Hands as big as rocks. Feet like a bear. I'm an American, hailing from Affton, Missouri with a love for tweed suits. Maybe it has something to do with my Irish heritage. I don't know, I just like the feel of the fabric. Never did like wearing shirts and I certainly never learnt how to fix a tie, so I tend to just wear the jacket with a plain tshirt underneath. It didn't take me long to discover in life that I didn't have much of a brain, we Kingfishers aren't so blessed in this department. No, like my father before me, I think with a camera and my cock. Luckily, so does half of America and so it has treated me well.

After seeing a job in the local paper advertising their need for a movie critic, I gave them a call, got the job on the spot and pretty much set up camp at the nearest drive in and never left. Traditionally, the Skyview Drive In in Belleville, Illinois has been my base of operations, yes the pink one, Bloomer pink for your information, but back in the '80s there was often these storms that would destroy the screens so in times of need the Starlite Drive In over in Cadet has treated me well. Creature features, they're my bread and butter. The Kingfishers have always had motion pictures in the blood. My father, Roland Kingfisher was a very contradictory and confusing man. He used to tell people that he was the 11th of the Hollywood Ten. A final name that was accidentally forgotten about when the original line up was announced. Either way, he went with the Red Channels list, which really embarrassed his uncle Herbert Kingfisher, who had a really high position at Republic Pictures (known for its westerns and serials).

To avoid the publicity, that's when he changed his name to Daniel Lafferty and for the first time he lived life outside of the industry. This did him no good at all, as he didn't have a clue how to do anything else. He wasn't a labourer, he couldn't drive trucks and he sure as hell wasn't a janitor (he was fired for going to the bar round the corner when asked to unblock a toilet). Some men were just made to have a typewriter at their fingertips.

Mostly, he just sat around the house drinking and driving my mother crazy. Ruth Kingfisher was a strong woman. She really whipped him in to shape. Belt and buckle. Literally, made him get a job. Oh, she put the fear of God in to him. B-Movie studios were always in need of good writers and didn't care about their backgrounds. Allied Artists (formerly known as Monogram Pictures) hired him primarily as a science fiction writer. They'd made tons of westerns but wanted to account for the increasing interest in science fiction. We'd conquered the plains and soon we'd conquer the skies. This is the American way. As Howard Hughes repeats over and over at the end of Marty Scorsese's The Aviator, "the way of the future". My father had some vague experience in this field having written a few superhero serials for Republic Pictures. He churned out scripts for Allied Artists at a rapid rate. Completing about 4 scripts a week, yet they only used about 1 a month. The rest were either dumped or recycled.

Ideas came to him by reading newspaper headlines and H.G. Wells. Some scripts were good, some scripts were terrible. The philosophy at Allied Artists was keep on writing, at all costs, we'll get there eventually. We were praised by some Frenchman called Jean-Luc Godard, made a couple of interesting noirs in L'Hexagone and then lost his mind a little. Never really cared much for any of them. Sadly, as my father was not meant to be working his contributions to Allied Artists were never credited and anything submitted was under various pseudonyms such as Clark Angel, Donald Booth and James Womack. I asked him once, "How does a pinko get to be writing science fiction creature features? Doesn't the anti-Soviet sentiment get in the way?" He would only laugh. I dabbled in communism myself for a time but I found I loved the money and the pussy too much. For that you have to be a well principled man, I am not a well principled man. It's sort of like religion. Great to have and I kind of believe in it, I'm just not very good at it. Once again, this is something where I feel the average American deep down feels the same way and so it has treated me well.

My life has been nowhere near as interesting as my father's. Mostly, crawled along on a steady wage and not let the debts get too high. Although, for a while I did develop a cocaine habit. I'm not too proud of that. But how else does one stick to deadlines and write about giant monsters attacking the states? The powder is what guides a man through the jungle. From Godzilla to King Kong. It is the through line. My wife told me it was the coke or the kids and I thought Mr Jesus might not take too kindly to me picking the powder so I made my decision. The cocaine packed his bags and I was grateful to stay in my family home.

I've been in this industry a lot of years and watched it change and not for the better. No more rubber suits. No more model cities. No more hosts. To name just a few things that have vanished from this once promising terrain. In the '70s and '80s, we had a whole generation of cinephiles that took motion pictures in to the next step but with a love for the past. Joe Dante and Steven Spielberg were wonderful directors who cherished all that came before them and tried to recreate their childhoods with new technology. Unfortunately, the filmmakers today don't seem to have the same appreciation for cinema's past. You're lucky if they've seen anything before Snakes on a Plane.

The new teenagers that arrive with every new generation are ok, I guess. Kids are basically the same. Their words may change but they still like their sex and they still like their violence. Good on them. When digital effects came in, I heavily debated quitting the game, the times changed too much and I often worry that I am out my depth in this new modern world. I'm not against the CGI they use today, I just wish they'd go back and learn how these movies should be made. It's like they've forgotten how to make them. Or maybe I'm just an old ranting codger, that's what you say in England, right? Ah, the odd movie still surprises you now and then and when it does, it makes it all worth it. I'm very grateful that Kelly has asked me to be in charge of reviewing his set programme for Shark Week this year and want to do the best I can. Let's hope this old farts still got it!

Day One: Shark Babes (Jim Wynorski, 2015)

And he's off the blocks. Starting off strong with some Jim Wynorski. A B-Movie legend. He's had his fist in all the pie from cheerleader and sorority house exploitation to soft porn to swords and sandals. He's done it all. Including our beloved creature features. His Swamp Thing sequel, much like the first one, is generally underrated. Surely in a generation more eco-oriented than mine, these films should find a whole new audience. Perhaps, that is why James Gunn is deciding to bring the character back. Wouldn't that be something if Swamp Thing saved DC? Wynorski's other monster movies Piranhaconda and Sharkansas Women's Prison Massacre may be a little rough around the edges and let's face it tacky, but this guy knows the rules of the game and always brings the comedy. Under budget and under 90 minutes is the motto and he's a real professional. Shark Babes is no Swamp Thing 2 but it's not a bad little movie when the times right. The time being when you and your other half are a few glasses of wine in and feeling frisky. When a ridiculous idea turns in to a "Honey, what do we have to lose?". When you start something and they finish it. When you're teetering towards the adventurous and on the verge of either ejaculating or going in to a severe laughing fit. It could go either way. This is the mood you have to be in to appreciate a movie like Shark Babes.

My initial criticisms of this years ago was that there was too many babes and not enough sharks. However, on this occasion Kelly has drawn my attention to how well it works as a campy spy movie. James Bond did always have its obsession with sharks occupying the bad guys lair. You've basically just got a bunch of hot and sexy marine biologists working at the Shark Anomaly Center (SAC for short, yes they work in the SAC, great joke). Obviously, instead of doing shark research, as you may have guessed, they have an awful lot of sex. Every cast member gets their turn fucking each other. It's a team sport. So maybe if they're always blowing off some steam with their colleagues, they're not very good at their jobs (Kelly assures me they are ardent professionals). The more educated man will tell you that this is not enough to make for a plot but Jim Wynorski has been at this for over 40 years and has more than 150 successful movies to say otherwise. What do you have? The man's a vet. Make sure you stick around for the talking shark named Roobie Breastnut.

Shark! (Samuel Fuller, 1969)

Infamous picture from the late sixties. Gained a dark reputation for using footage of one its stunt men being killed by the ocean's predator. They even used the images to advertise in magazines. As with all these things, who knows how much is true? A bit of bullshit goes a long way in this industry. It's clear that the producers were going the exploitation route and wanting to make this a supreme shark spectacle by capitalising on the sensational aspects. Hence, the multiple name changes and editing room revisits. Whereas, poor Sam Fuller, legendary director of noir and Drive-in King, is wanting to make this throwback to The Treasure of Sierra Madre. A sort of noir piece with anti-hero smugglers working on foreign soil. Avoiding the double cross and trying to stay one step ahead of the competition.

You quickly get the impression that this had very little to do with sharks and was only re-shaped to fit that afterwards. They even re-released it with a new title after Jaws, re-enforcing how it features real death so you can tell what kind of unsavoury outfit was really running the show. This sleaze knows no bounds. Since it was never meant to be a proper shark movie, it only comes across as flat as though forced in a direction it was never meant to take. Making it neither a good addition to Shock Corridor and The Naked Kiss or a solid shark movie. So don't go expecting Shark Corridor. Perhaps, historically relevant for the media stunt like Snuff but it never has been a particularly good movie. Not even Burt Reynolds could save this one.

The Reef: Stalked (Andrew Traucki, 2022)

Traucki's budgets are increasing and yet his critical appreciation is decreasing. Somebody needs to explain that to me? Because it's not like his skills are getting any weaker. Where are his defenders in all of this? Show yourselves because these false accusations of poor quality craftmanship won't stand with the creature feature police. Since he emerged back in 2007, Aussie seachanger (basically an environmental Ho-Dad) Traucki's proved himself to be a reliable maker of water based monster movies. In terms of rankings, above master diver Johannes Roberts and below Frenchy Alexandre Andre. On Black Water, Traucki had this wonderful idea of how to mix in camera with digital. He filmed his cataclysmic crocs and his actors separately, then he'd fire up the old computer and splice the two over each other digitally. Quite a novel idea. Have we forgotten this?

Formally, he's a force to be reckoned with and this time he's got a few ideas he came to play with. Remember how the Jaws franchise slipped in to slasher mode? Literally from the second film when the focus changed to a bunch of teenagers out boating with no adults in sight. But remember when they started embodying the metaphysical nature of slashers by incorporating predator/prey Halloween tactics? When the Brody's became the target of Bruce's children. Following them across the country and not stopping 'til they got their revenge in Jaws 4. Traucki has returned to this material and brought it back for a post-metoo audience with sharks substituting in for misogynistic males. His women do have that Tarantino style feminist warrior energy about them. They could easily be those girls from Death Proof who once beat the living shit out of Kurt Russell. How seriously you want to take any of these ideas is up to you, it is as it should be: tense and economical. His 2020 sequel to Black Water, subtitled 'Abyss', features the radical idea of putting crocodiles in caves and demonstrates Traucki's obsession with The Descent This appreciation continues in to The Reef: Stalked. Maybe one day soon this dependable dude may make a movie of that level himself.

Sharksploitation (Stephen Scarlata, 2023)

What do you know, some new merchandise? Now this is a documentary they should have made years and years ago. A guide for all the shark fanatics out there. To make sense of all this chaos and make you aware just what the fuck is going on with this genre. Even in literature, there is very little that has been published on shark movies. This documentary takes you through the good, the bad and the ugly that is shark movie history. Opening where this began with 1971s Blue Water White Death, which went on to inspire the greatest of them all, Jaws. Before Peter Gimbel no-one had filmed a great white in the ocean, making that documentary monumental in shark studies. Those divers involved openly admit they had a really limited knowledge of the animals behaviour back then, whereas now we generally have a decent idea of what irritates them and what would be regarded as friendly actions. It's thanks to their bravery that they accomplished their mission and presented their findings to future generations.

Scarlata struggles with trying to suggest the proto-shark movies, skating over the subject without managing to find some clear examples. However, once Jaws comes in it's all uphill. Despite being the peak of the genre, Jaws has had a terrible impact on shark life around the globe. Trivia time, sharks claim less than 10 people a year. Do you know how many sharks we claim in a year? You'll have to google it, the numbers will only bring tears to my eyes and I weep for all of them. Hollywood always invites the rabbis and the priests to comment on their representation but sharks never get in on the meeting. Invite lost in the post maybe. No doubt, one day we'll be hearing from their lawyer. Sharksploitation belongs to a new wave of shark theory along with Eli Roth's Fin (which will forever be remembered for putting the Cannibal Holocaust theme over the massacring of sharks), that target the misrepresentation of sharks as violent monsters. They make great attempts to acknowledge how these creatures do not view us as 'food' and their 'attacks' are normally accidental. I'm all convinced on that, what I'm less convinced about is the enjoyment gained from the endless Syfy movies brought our way in the wake of Sharknado. This party wave of shambolic filmmaking that favours crappy digital effects. Ah well, at least it pays its respects to Roger Corman.

Jaws vs The Meg (2023)

Oh boy, now this is box office. A gladiator match like this is more exciting than a league game. A great tie in, possibly supported by Warner Brothers, to get you excited for the new movie, The Meg 2: The Trench. This would be a light warm up for The Meg, before she takes on Statham in The Rematch of the Century. Our first Shark Week show rather than a shark themed monster movie. This was serious business. So serious, I made sure my wife was out of town for the evening. There was no way I was going to put up with her constant questions the whole evening. "Were sharks really that big?", "If the Meg bit my arm off would I die" or "Is there any actual real evidence to suggest these sharks existed?". Who wants the hassle? So I gave her a few subtle hints to organise a book club meeting over at the Courtesy Diner on South Laclede Station Road just passed the Walmart. Actually made a stop on my return journey at the very same Walmart having dropped her off to get a couple of sixers. But before that I turned up the volume on Canned Heat's On The Road Again, whistled along and called Ronnie Wilson (not the singer from The Gap Band) to see if he wanted in on these male only shenanigans. Of course, he did.

I pour him a bowl of Cheetos, pull up a chair, quickly check out the window that the wife's not coming back early, crack open a few beers and switch on the Discovery Channel. As Kelly would say, "the boys were positively up to no good". Tonight the two competitors will be judged under 4 chosen criteria. Speed, agility, bite and I forgot the last one cause I was a few beers in by then despite only being about an hour long. Didn't help that Ronnie got drunk and kept calling my dog a "mook" again. His favourite insult when dealing with those he believes to be inferior to himself. Next time, he comes round he's relegated to the floor and the dog bowl. The dog can have his chair. Back to the battle, the opening rounds turn out to be quite the surprise with the great white coming out on top. Both Ronnie and I, had our money on the Meg winning this one. "We've called this wrong, I'm switching sides!", yells Ronnie. Someone had to tell this imbecile that Jaws, being the lighter and nimble of the pair, was always going to win on speed and agility. I backed my shark all the way and what do you know? He came out on top. Perhaps, the most intelligent thing of worth to come from this episode of Shark Week was the scientists proposing that it could have been the great whites that caused the extinction of Megalodon. How you ask, considering The Meg just beat Jaws in a 1 on 1? Lost the battle but won the war. Strength in numbers my friend. Comradery and organisation. Perhaps, like our alien invaders, our great whites are also communists...

Day Two: Megalodon: The Monster Shark Lives (Doug Glover, 2013)

Forever known as the one where Discovery Channel lied to us. Back in 2013, this really angered some of our scientists, making them turn against Shark Week, blasting them as shallow entertainers rather than providers of factual information. Most of us dismissed it and really questioned Discovery Channel's journalistic credibility to be making mockumentaries pretending prehistoric sharks such as the megalodon still exist today. 10 years later Kelly has me returning to this infamous piece to shine some new light on it. In his eyes, this episode should be viewed as a work of prankster art on the same level as Orson Welles's radio show of The War of the Worlds and Ghostwatch. Can see why it would appeal to Funeralopolis, as it satirises the modes of television and is very Gonzo. Undeniably, it expands on Open Water, the first shark movie to really tap in to the Blair Witch found footage craze. A slow burner that arrived a little dead in the water. There is some of Troll Hunter in this with how it suggests the government were fully aware of the creatures existence and are withholding all information on The Meg. Perhaps it's still too early to champion this as art but it did get 5 million views to hear some (questionable) facts on a shark. Kelly says Wallace and Gromit: A Grand Day Out once convinced him as a child that the moon was made of cheese and he's got over it. Shark Week rightly got under heavy fire this and their response? Not apologise, come back with Megalodon: The New Evidence (which had no new evidence). Kelly says don't back down, double down.

Sharktopus (Declan O'Brien, 2010)

Kelly's put me back on the shitty Syfy shark movies. This must be a wind up. That man knows I hate them like Anakin Skywalker hates Tusken Raiders. He tells me he wants to explore Syfy Channel's comments in that Sharksploitation documentary where the producers admit to loving Toho Godzilla movies and being inspired by those. He wants to know if armed with this information, they're any easier to love. I tell him they aren't but he's got me doing this anyway. So crack on, shall we? Sharktopus is a reasonably early effort in their catalogue and is produced by Roger Corman, who can make even the most disgusting shit taste like a fine wine, so whilst still far from good isn't the worst of them. It's no Dinoshark but it can and does get worse. Much worse. Fire off Eric Roberts some back pills cause he must be under a terrific strain after this. Set pieces are terrible and the CGI will have you wondering why these people don't just employ Yoshihiro Nishimura. For those who don't know, Tom Savini in the digital age. You get some people who really defend this stuff like Annalee Newitz of io9. Although I don't agree, I get the argument for calling it a disposable cinematic junk food guilty pleasure. What I don't understand is the part when she says it's the Inception of giant monster movies. With all due respect mam, how long have you been in this game?

Malibu Shark Attack (David Lister, 2009)

There are bottoms of barrels and this goes beyond that. This is the bottom of the ocean and that is unmistakably deep. You all remember The Titanic, right? She lies about 12,5000 feet, that's 2,100 fathoms if you're a sea man or 370 miles if you're more of a road user. Malibu Shark Attack puts that boat to shame by going well beyond that. Low production values in this arena is a given. It is unfair to judge with someone above their weight class but you have to at least bring the humour or violent thrills. This does neither suffering from its own terrible writing. A common issue in low budget where scenes go on and on with no real purpose to the point of psychedelic boredom (to put it nicely). Exactly where you need a producer to say, "we get it, give me the scissors!". Normally, Roger Corman's role but he'd do it in pre-production, tearing out worthless pages from the script and operating to the strict and respectable philosophy of a set piece or nudity every 15 minutes on the dot in accordance with the human attention span. Here's the part I can't fathom (forgive me, we're in the sea after all), Malibu Shark Attack has an absolute professional by the name of Brian Trenchard-Smith. Either you know him from his ossiesploitation movies or you're a follower of the Leprechaun series. Where was he to rescue the sinking ship on this one? He's caught napping. Goblin sharks were a welcomed alternative though. Don't see too many of them round here.

Super Shark (Fred Olen Ray, 2011)

"Bikinis, bullets & big bites" is the tagline and in a rare case, it delivers the goods. Of course it would be the director of Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers who would make one of the finest Syfy movies imaginable. Issues with the design of the shark and the cheapness of digital remain but every shark attack is accompanied by an appropriate one liner so it does at least attempt to maintain a moderate level of comedy. Upon having her crush get off with her best mate, a young female cries out to the night, "I don't want to live anymore!". In a cruel twist of irony, getting her wish sooner than anticipated, this is the moment our super shark decides to dive out the water and scoop this lady up for his next meal. Unlike, Syfy's other go to directors, Fred Olen Ray knows how to make the non-shark moments engaging too. We're blessed with some vague plot elements to keep us interested and there's a good ratio kept up with a flash of boobs or blood at regular 15 minute intervals. Until now, I don't think I realised how much I missed some simple detective work. It's the glue that binds this rubbish together. So expect some satire of rich dodgy oil corrupt oil companies thrown in for good measure.

Day Three: Jersey Shore Shark Attack (John Shepphird, 2012)

Ok, so this almost genius. Almost being the key word in this scenario. Considering you had the success of a trashy television show like MTVs Jersey Shore, the popular emergence of Syfy's Shark movies and the existence of Jaws being owed due to an actual Jersey Shore shark attack this movie was then inevitable from an exploitation stand point. When writing Jaws, Peter Benchley's inspiration was in fact the Jersey Shore shark attacks that occurred between July 1st and 12th back in 1916. Heat waves drove thousands to the beaches for a summer they'd never forget. This was still when we had little information on sharks but this definitely changed our public perception of them into being vicious predators that represented danger. Peaceful fishermen turned into shark hunters and gathered in packs like the end of Night of the Living Dead. This only makes a few passing references to the story but it's respectable to see filmmakers tapping in to the legends that created Jaws and expanding the original myths rather than being simple rip off.

Had this been directed by John Waters or Gregg Araki, we'd be looking at a masterpiece but it nearly captures the campy tone you're looking for. Muscular teens defend their turf and party hard with their shirts off embracing each other in this over the top closet homosexual manner. Tensing each other's muscles and pouting constantly. Their mentors are half the gangsters from The Sopranos like Tony Sirico, Joey Fatone, Paul Sorvino and Al Sapienza. Even Rabbit from the Evil Bong series makes an appearance. Not too far off being a tolerable American Pie movie that's location specific. On the shark front, the CGI effects are still to a poor standard but it does have some respectable practical gore on the reverse shots where they pull back from the bites. Halfway there.

2-Headed Shark Attack (Christopher Ray, 2012)

And we're back in the garbage dump. Despite a catchy attention grabbing title and Fred Olen Ray's son in the director's chair it never really delivers the goods. There's some promise early on with the old distraction via boob, a proven technique to get through the set up gimmickry of act 1 when you have little skills to establish story and your audience has less patience. There's a scene in this that brought great disappointment upon me. A two party boat race and a two headed shark getting in on the action from behind that, get this, doesn't eat both boats at the same time. In my book, that is unforgivable. Totally unacceptable, who let them get away this? Maybe they would say this would kill too many cast members but I would say The Burning has a massacre and that's a pretty good fucking movie. Even if you had to roll the credits straight after killing everyone off in this set piece, would that be such a bad thing? It was a shit movie anyway, you could have wasted less of my time and gone out on a real high. If anything, 2-Headed Shark Attack is a real study in the absurdity of electricity. As Kelly rightfully pointed out, this doesn't even have Pirahna's coked up Jerry O'Connell, it has his brother the lesser known Chris O'Connell. I believe that should serve to adequately explain the situation here.

Shark Week: Off the Hook (2023)

Hardly a new episode but a recap of the shows greatest hits. If you've been here since the start like me, a somewhat useless but nostalgic exercise, if you're a Shark Week rookie/virgin then there's a serious benefit to an episode dedicated to laying out the timeline of the shows history. Getting emotional writing this now but since plenty of the run time is spent on 5 time Emmy winner, the man who loves sharks, Stan Waterman, who died last week, this now makes this episode essential to celebrate his life. Taken before his time at 100 years of age, he made his last dive in 2013 aged 90. This was the man behind the Blue Water, White Death documentary that kicked this all off. Tears are coming to my eyes and talking of eyes, in his later life, he was required to wear an eye patch. When questioned about the incident, he kept the mystery going by refusing to give any answers about how it happened. All Kelly would say was, "definitely got that eating pussy".

Day Four: Shark Attack (Bob Misiorowski, 1999)

In a shocking turn of events, the film with the most simple title is the best one in a while. Misiorowski is best known for Derailed, his action flick with Jean Claude Van Damme and he directs this in the exact same way. Good news if you want a touch more plot, bad news if you came just for sharks. Casper Van Dien of Starship Troopers fame returns to his duty of fighting animals for our entertainment. Sharks aren't his only enemy in this one and so he must face fellow bug hunter from Aliens, Ernie Hudson. When these two compete head to head it is serious fun.

This could well be one of the last shark movies I can wholly support before the modern problems seep in. Shark Attack is essentially DTV style silliness with sharks. You can really feel like it's geared at a more general so called bad movie audience and it will keep them interested due to a plot that gives it momentum. The moments without sharks still have their camp value. Whereas, the shark movies today are all centred around the set pieces, which are dreadful anyway so there's very little to hang on to and stick around. '50s creature features didn't have great effects either but they achieve a real surreal quality. They were highly imaginative with utter devotion to craft. Now, they're just hammered out in seconds on a laptop with no thought put in to them. How many have genuinely absurd images? Other than the now classic megashark taking down that plane in Megashark Vs Giant Octopus, not too many at all considering they're highly obvious in their intent. Who said you should never set out to make a cult classic? Also, why do they no longer aim at general trash admirers? They're so isolated when only meme lovers are targeted. Some of us are craving the old Shark Attack model with crafty B movie directors in charge who know to work to the television slots.

Shark Attack 2 (David Worth, 2001)

Generally considered to be the stronger follow up. David Worth is a much better director technically speaking. Only Kelly would prefer the first one but for everyone else, this is a tighter story, the shark attacks are better done and there's less distractions. Although, Kelly did make a good point when he said to me, "Casper Van Dien and Ernie Hudson squaring off is like the ultimate battle of the bug hunters". Another Shark Babes incident, when he's too hooked on the spy and detective elements. All well and good but aren't we here for a shark movie? Shark Attack 2 offers one of the greatest parodies of your Bear Grylls/Steve Irwin nutcases with Roy Bishop. Being an American, I'm not too good with accents. I asked Kelly if he was meant to be British or Australian and he just said, "his accent was slipping like Bambi". A google search informs me the actor is British so I can only assume he's just not very good at putting the Australian accent on. Considering this guy was more of a phony than Gildroy Lockhart, it only added to the character. A performance for lovers of so called bad movies to cherish. Leaving this on a bad note, Kelly says his cards been rejected for the Discovery Channel subscription and so there will be no more Shark Week episodes on the programme for the remainder of the week. This put a serious downer on my evening. Maybe I will have to actually talk to the wife.

Day Five: Sharknado (Anthony C. Ferrante, 2018)

This morning was not a good morning. I woke up in cold sweats after laying eyes on the Shark Week programme and seeing I had to rewatch Sharknado. No way Jose, I'd seen that 10 years ago and been so irked by it, I quit reviewing entirely. How dare Kelly put me up against the monster that killed my career once more. My wife had barely even opened her eyes and I was repeatedly screaming, "Roberta, I don't think I can do this today". She threw the sheets off the bed and yelled back, "look, Sterling, if you're that set against doing this, I'm sure if you asked Kelly nicely he'd let you skip this one". Kelly would not let me skip this one. He's torturing me, I swear. The average man was not meant to see Jersey Shore Shark Attack, 2Headed Shark Attack, Sharktopus and Malibu Shark Attack within such a short space of time. It's bad for the health. Why is he making me do this? There's no recovery time with this young man. I'm an old man, I can't stay this sharp. However, as Kelly had been grateful and rather kind enough to give me this gig then I thought it best to persevere. I'm sure there's method to the madness and his reasons will reveal themselves. Eventually.

Out of professional courtesy, Kelly allowed me to watch The Last Drive In version. If there's one man who could get me to support Sharknado and be down with the kids its Mr Joe Bob Briggs. Even he couldn't convince me. As much as I respect Darcy, this is the kind of modern rubbish she would be showing every week if she was to take over from the master. In the mad maze of Syfy movies, this was the one to blow up and become the new model for creature features and trash filmmaking. Syfy had these movies airing on a nearly weekly basis and for some reason this was the one that caught the internet's eye. For the love of God, I couldn't tell you why they picked this one, there's absolutely nothing interesting about it to warrant the cultural impact it had. It doesn't reveal anything about our society. There's nothing to be gained from it. That's the biggest shame. You'll see it compared to Ed Wood and Tommy Wiseau but in going towards trash, I don't think it reveals anything interesting about its director. His subconscious doesn't bleed on to the canvas. You probably don't even know who Anthony C. Ferrante is and there's a reason for that because there's absolutely nothing that separates him from those other Syfy Channel hacks. Apparently, the main star only took the job to afford health care, so out of the few things to talk about with this movie, that could be the most important, it is like Saw 6, a shocking indictment of America's health care system that a man must lower himself to making Sharknado just to receive basic medical support.

It seems odd to turn on my own kind here or to even declare what good trash is, when being a fan of these movies has always been an anti-elitist stance but there's very little that I can say amuses me about Sharknado. About the only defence Sharknado has is that the digital effects on creature features are a new direction and this is the film that represents that shift in technology. There may even be some age bias involved here and an unwillingness to accept the change but let's say we have to support fresh updates in the genre, is this the best example for it? Can we not just champion when the digital effects have been well used in other similar films that aren't as soulless and shit? The Japanese, as usual, are well ahead of us in this department on the monster movie. So next time you think about sitting down to watch this humourless crap and then forming a whole boring personality around it of haha I love bad movies, why not just watch another digital age silly monster movie like Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All Out Attack? That came out 10 years before Sharknado too. Suck on that, Syfy.

Day Six: Jackass Shark Week 2.0 (Jeff Tremaine, 2022)

After the extreme depression that hit with watching Sharknado for the second time in my life, I said to Kelly, "I can't take this anymore. I think if you were wanting to have someone review the modern shark movies it shouldn't have been me. I'm out my depth". Unexpectedly, he cleared the schedule and gave me the rest of the afternoon off. He said he was happy with the review I'd done for Sharknado and tomorrow he would have something lovely lined up. Jackass Shark Week 2.0 was exactly that. This had to be viewed via a YouTube link as he still hadn't paid his Discovery Channel subscription fees. I'm not sure what you make of the Jackass gang, I know some find them obnoxious and repulsive but ever since my son first showed me these guys, I just thought, "they found a way to bring back Buster Keaton for the nihilistic nineties". Who couldn't be grateful for that?

Now on their second trip to the seas, the chemistry between them all is stronger than ever. As an audience, we were still getting used to the new members on their first outing but by now we've had Jackass Forever and we understand the dynamics between them. Dark Shark with a name like that was made for Shark Week. They make him sit on a glass sheet with sharks swimming visibly below. As this is meant to be educational, his objective is to test how sharks respond to electrical currents in the water by pressing on a button. They have these electroreceptors that can detect electric fields. Dark Shark is going to observe how much draws them in and how much repels them. Here comes the typical twist from those mischievous Jackass boys, Wee Man holds a second button, which is going to send electric shocks to Dark Shark too. Let the fun commence. Original members like Chris Pontius shine in their lack of fear towards the sea's creatures. Most of the cast have to build up their courage using cages. Leaves you to wonder how many extreme sports and dangerous hobbies do the Jackass originals excel in? Skateboarding, surfing and now sharks too. Pontius has to entice sharks in with a baited sword and win a tug of war. His safety assistant saying, "they're now in full predator mode and they associate you with the food", is a line almost too good to be able to write.

By the end, the brave newbie Poopies has to go back in to water and conquer his fears. For those not up to speed, in the previous episode they did for Discovery Channel, he did a stunt where he had to jump over a school of sharks but in a terrifying moment failed the landing and was bitten by a confused Caribbean reef shark. This incident left his hand mangled and he developed a phobia of the water, which was always like a second home for him. He sets out to prove both to himself and us that shark attacks are rare and usually occur by mistake or when goaded. Our heroic Poopies gets in close and personal with no cage at the end, emerges victorious, recognises his prior foolish mistakes and makes his peace with all sharks. The deeper plan is beginning to be revealed. Starting to see the method in the madness now and why Kelly forced me in to watching Sharknado and all those other modern terrible shark movies. He's like Jigsaw, he just wants to help, albeit in the most difficult manner possible. You want to make an omelette, you gotta break some eggs. Change isn't easy but sometimes the results are worth it. Did I have to be pushed to breaking point? Probably not but I no longer fear writing and would like to return to reviewing. My demons have been faced and in the words of Elton John, I'm Still Standing. He's not the evil torturing sadist I thought he was, he's a maverick and he's welcome in my home any time. The Jackass gang sign out by doing an underwater disco party set to Leo Delibes Lakme opera. Knowing how to dress up a stunt, this is what has always elevated them above other obnoxious outfits, they have such an undeniable cinematic appeal and awareness. Jackass is indeed forever.

Day Seven: Jaws (Steven Spielberg, 1975)

There is a time in cinema before Jaws and a time after Jaws. Before it was released, summer was considered graveyard season. Spielberg's man eater put a stop to that and now this release period is a gold mine for blockbusters. Until Star Wars a few years later, it was the highest grossing film of all time, scaring an entire generation of people from going in to the water and forever tainting the name of the great white. Modelled after the documentary Blue Water White Death and capitalising on our limited knowledge of sharks, it managed to create a cultural revolution that shark lovers have been trying to correct ever since. Both Spielberg and writer Benchley have stated they would never make Jaws now knowing what they know about the animal and the way they presented it on screen. Shark deaths have risen astronomically since the film, about the only negative thing you could have to say about any of it.

Regardless, the film launched Steven Spielberg's career and he followed up with hit after hit during the late 70s and 80s. By this point, he'd mainly worked on TV movies and low budget affairs, although Duel is considered potentially the peak of TV movies and The Sugarland Express is not so bad either as a Bonnie and Clyde rip off. His inspiration for Jaws was (if you couldn't tell) Hitchcock and with that John Williams creepy score, it's hard to think of anything other than Psycho.

Originally, the shoot was not an easy one, Spielberg did not get all the shots he wanted with the mechanical shark and so it rarely features in the movie. This is actually what makes it better than your typical monster movie because its mostly P.O.V shots with the score suggesting a presence. What is it we always say about the imagination being a way scarier place? Wasn't that why Blair Witch was so successful? If Jaws had the classic suspense of Psycho, the sequels have the later cheaper thrills of the slasher cycle such as an adultless world of teens ready for the slaughter and the predator/prey relationships even verging on the metaphysical in the despised Jaws 4: The Revenge, forever known as the time it got personal.

In fact, Jaws was so good that it nearly killed the careers of independent kings like Roger Corman and his company New World Pictures. He was hurt nearly as bad as the great white itself. Corman's advantage was always that he would touch material that the studios considered below them. Quality wasn't an issue because no-one else was offering it. However, when Universal stepped in with more money, better effects and a director of exceptional talent to make these typically considered B pictures, Corman's place in the industry was nearly lost and his output redundant as it could now be considered inferior. Despite this, Corman has always respected how good Jaws is but his close friend and ally Jack Nicholson has always held a grudge and utterly despises it. The pair need not worry, the independents will always keep their place, for it is in attitude the studios cannot match. With big money comes big responsibility in the public eye, therefore the studios will always play it too safe and this is where the independents step in, being less concerned with having a reputation to keep. Most of the time, it actually works in the independents favour to have a dirtier reputation, this is where they can pick up the business and cover ground the studio can't. There is also the argument that the studios are soulless with money to spare and the real magic comes from those without the resources pulling off incredible feats.

Fidel Castro and Slavoj Zizek have both referred to Jaws as a Marxist piece. After all, it is about a government more interested in profits than the safety of its people with the closing of the beaches being a central issue discussed. British film critic Mark Kermode has an essay on the classic, famously opening with, "First things first, Jaws is not about a shark". According to Kermode, Jaws bypasses the simple primitive fears of being eaten alive into being a morality tale about extramarital sex, masculinity in crisis and post-Watergate paranoia. The cheating coming from the decision to allow a character to live in the film that dies in the book after having an affair. The masculinity depicted through all these macho men trying to satisfy women by aggressively shark hunting and there's definitely a battle of class and masculinity on the Orca between the three men. Hooper being a rich play boy softy and Quint being a poorer physically stronger man. Brody serving as the middle class or referee.

Moreover, Jaws becomes America's answer to Godzilla in creating a monster to address national trauma and fears. It is our response to the Watergate scandal and you can see this through the questioning of authority with the way in which it presents that battle between community and government over profits and protection. This strong subtext deep within mixed with the well-handled primal scares makes it easy to position as the best creature feature of all time and therefore a favourite of mine. The ultimate goal of any creature feature should be to deliver the basic suspense and if possible write in an allegory that substitutes for a countries darkest of times. If done properly it can be the most therapeutic and enjoyable means of tackling the woes.

All of this information is now public knowledge and somehow barely even covers what this film means to me. Only the last paragraph even begins to touch on it. On rewatches, two things become clear. When, Alex's mum arrives in all black on the pier and Brody's look changes from excitement to being gobsmacked is a rare scene in cinema where you can feel the death and disappointment in the air. Roy Scheider's look on his face perfectly captures the mood. No attempt to detract the blame, when he could look for excuses. Only silence. Never does one witness so much humility and defeat in a man to give in to total subservience. Later in the movie, the mood changes to one of outright adventure unexpectedly as the trio sail off in to the distance. There's that long shot through the shark's teeth of the Orca drifting away in to the sea. By having the teeth in the shot too, it almost gives the impression of a shot disconnected from time. As though the mission is already accomplished, their victory already sealed and this is the kind of generational story of success passed down from father to son over and over.

Jaws is now over 47 years old and somehow in that time has transcended beyond being a mere movie. It is so familiar that every time you watch it is like catching up with old friends. A hangout movie emerges amongst the tension making it timeless. My favourite scene being the last night Brody, Quint and Hooper spend on the Orca. Dialogue for this was re-written over a drunken night shared between them and that's why it feels exactly as it should. Women be warned, this is what a boys night looks like. Drinking cans, singing old songs, showing off scars and revealing our deep seated trauma. That's a good evening with the guys alright. Somehow, Quint's retelling of being on the USS Indianapolis sends more shivers down the spine on every occasion. It's more chilling than having to hear a looped video of the fingers scratching down the chalkboard for 10 hours straight. When the scars come out only adds to that parody of masculinity with each men trying to outdo the other in a Good, The Bad and The Ugly style duel. There is no explaining or avoiding the fact this is how men bond with each other. It's an underwritten aspect of Jaws actually with how it treats male friendship and comradery. All in a manner which is way more powerful than your standard movie. No scene will ever match when they all start drunkenly singing Show me the Way to Go Home in unison. That's just life right there and as good as it gets.

Well, that wraps up the most intense shark week I can recall in a long time. True to form though, a week of pleasure, pain and discovery. Wouldn't have it any other way and what a way to close it with the king of all shark movies. These are the first words I've written about movies in 10 years and in the words of John Wick, "I'm thinking I'm back". Kelly put me in the water with the shark that killed my career, pushed me to the edge of my sanity and against all odds the fear has subsided. My family will be forever grateful. Fuck it, I'm considering calling up the local newspaper and asking for my old job back. Thank you for giving this old dog a second chance. Please have me back next year, Kelly. For everyone else I hope you enjoyed the show and this old timer established that he was still capable in the face of all the changes in the industry. Goodbye and good night. All together now, show me the way to go. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed. I had a little drink about an hour ago. And it's gone straight to my head! Wherever I may roam on land or sea or foam. You can always hear me singing a song. Show me the way to go home!

Kelly Gets Deep in the Trenches

Deep as the deep Atlantic Ocean. That's how deep is my devotion. Meg, I wanna be yours! On the 11th August 2023, I had a second glorious date with the notorious big bitch of the sea, The Meg. Oddly enough, our first encounter was 5 years ago to the day. I've dated many horrors in my time but this broad certainly takes the top for most disgusting, recalling the Arnie quote from Predator when he gets his first proper look at his grotesque foe, "you are one ugly motherfucker". She eats with her mouth open. She flaunts her naked body in public. She has no concept of personal space. She leaves hickies that scar. To quote Teddy from the best black comedy about difficult friendships over time Memento, the average person would say, "You know, I've had more rewarding friendships than this". To me though, it's love. Meg, I wanna be your raincoat for those frequent rainy days. I wanna be your dreamboat, when you wanna sail away. Let me be your teddy bear, take me with you anywhere. I don't care. I wanna be yours!

I enclose my unedited review of the first Meg that hit our shores 5 years ago:

"Hello fellas it's been a while but I've just seen The Meg and I'm feeling inspired. We all know Kelly is a fan of films involving sharks. Is this one about a shark? This is a mind game between man and beast. Jason Statham wins the battle at every turn. What an absolute fucking machine he is. I thought Chief Brody was hard. Stathams in another league entirely. Never have I seen a man make more of an embarrassment of a shark. He wins it for sure, I believe I had 2-1 on my scorecard by the end of the film. Meg wins the first act looking absolutely brutal destroying ships with ease. Kills one fella making people question Stathams skills. Tbf to Statham he'd been the out the game for 5 years just bevving so our boy was a little rusty. Was hilarious seeing Statham just being a drunk sipping bevs in like Thailand. The way he waltzes round gaffs handing out beers to his visitors was almost too smooth. He literally tells them they are having a beer and that's that. Get yourself a man who can terror sharks and enjoy a chilled bev.

After his questionable first act performance Statham ups his game with the shark. The second act is definitely the best part of the film. I really felt the novelty of a 75 foot shark scrapping people in a rare big Budget film. Every time Statham straps up his wet suit. Oh my god you just know he means business. I was erect. If it wasn't the wet suit it was that bloody suave turtle neck. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He was even diving in after the shark to save people and getting as close as possible to put a tracker on the shark. He's a mad man. You just knew from there the game was his. You can't outdo a fella willing to dive into the sea and go toe to toe with a 75 foot shark. You just can't.

The Meg gets her chance though in the third act when we get the much advertised beach attack. I was hoping this was our megs big moment, the reply to 2010s ultra gory Piranha remake. However when the big moment our Meg bottled it. The 12 rating didn't help that. I wanted to see some stupid spring break type teens get torn limb from limb. The reality is I have never seen a worse shark performance. Zero kills in this kind of environment is quite frankly pathetic. When it mattered, Statham made an absolute embarrassment of Meg. The only reason he lost the first scrap was because he was rusty. On his best day he was just too much for Meg. Put her right in the fucking ground. While Meg was too busy getting trapped in chains he was knifing the shit out of her with all the weapons at his arsenal. Statham deserved a better opponent. I've seen 8 foot sharks cause more chaos. The Meg was too well behaved. It was almost like she was avoiding killing people. Not on Kelly's watch! There was no anti-bourgeois morally questionable funny moments and sly wit. You need to be dirtier Meg if you want to impress me, much much dirtier!".

Either that was an alright review or more worryingly, I haven't honed my craft over the last 5 years cause I'm still perfectly happy with the outcome. A few things I'd change but it captures the essence and intensity of the Kelly reviewing style.

On a revisit, the only things I'd add would be that even though it's more Emmerich than Spielberg, I've warmed to it over the years as it fills a much needed slate. We have the Syfy movies delivering the trashy bottom of the barrel cheapies and quickies. We have the more serious technically wellhandled mid budget studio movies like The Shallows. It's kind of nice to have a big budget one this dumb. Even if it could be better. Statham drinking akimbo (that's why God gave us two hands) at all times and riding round on a motorbike with a silly hat on is still comedy gold. A real masterclass in acting.

After that, the rest of the first act takes a bit of a nose dive as they introduce you to the rest of the cast and set up the story. This could have been snappier, all we needed was Statham back in BAU (Business As Usual) mode emphasised through the conversion to turtle neck attire and cracking down on his amateur work colleague's incompetence. There was no need to go in to that much detail and kill the pacing. Only a solid third act would have allowed people to forget how sloppy the set-up is but that doesn't fully deliver either due to lack of adequate gore. A victim of settling for a 12 rating in its aims of being a big blockbuster with a wide audience. What you may find though on a rewatch of the first Meg is that second act really holds up, particularly when Statham is diving in to the sea willy nilly needing no excuse to put his body on the line and save everyone. The people's champion. God bless the star system.

Turteltaub is such a lousy director but his films do age extremely well. The Meg is another one to add to his collection along with the National Treasure series that aren't particularly good but they do have undisclosed hangover cure abilities. Crappy Saturday matinee material that excites the children and if you're an adult re-vitalises the body from all harmful substances taken the night before. Works of unstudied science that will take you from head in hands to cheering with the children. They are Turteltaub's gift to the world. Know them and get to love them.

In a rematch more shocking than Rocky and Apollo stepping back in the ring, The Meg chose to fight Statham once more in a last shot to regain her respectability. Turteltaub's a gonner and he's been replaced by the finest British filmmaker of the last 20 years, Ben Wheatley. First of all, great to see one of your own in the chair. Pleasant fellow too, met him in Sheffield's Showroom back in 2016 when he was premiering Free Fire and doing a talk afterwards. He filled us in on how Scorsese got to producing the project and his inspirations for it. Apparently, Scorsese travelled to England a few years prior and asked an unknown source to get him back up to speed with British films from the last few years. Among the titles shown to him, Kill List was a favourite and based off its brilliance he decided to support Wheatley on his next endeavour.

Wheatley began his career as crime filmmaker with Down Terrace. Don't make the mistake of lumping this in with your lads and geezers Guy Ritchie and Danny Dyer British crime output. Instead, it has more in common with your provocative European directors like Nicolas Winding Refn when he was doing the Pusher trilogy. This nastiness soon developed into horror which combined with a British tradition of social realism to produce the unique Kill List. Shot in about 3 days and it's become a classic. Wheatley's vision of a corrupted and deteriorating post-Tony Blair England has only grown more disturbing with time.

Some dismiss it as being too encrypted, symbolic and even derivative but once you engage with it as a Straw Dogs, 8MM and even post-Watergate type of thriller as much as you do The Wicker Man, Witchfinder General and Blood on Satan's Claw then you will begin to see its genius. Since then he's had a few more folk horror hits with Sightseers and A Field in England . The latter being the closest he's come to matching the high standard of Kill List. Whether High Rise is decent remains contentious. I'd go with way off the book but a solid and respectable effort nonetheless. Free Fire was his attempt at some Reservoir Dogs commercial action fun and it is exactly that.

Pictured: a meeting of minds, your least favourite film critic and Ben Wheatley circa 2016

General consensus is that Wheatley's Rebecca remake was a step down. Wouldn't know I haven't seen it. Despite being a huge Hitchcock fan, I don't really rate the original because the camera work, set design and lighting are immaculate in creating the gothic atmosphere and Franz Waxman's overused schmaltzy score acts in contrast ruining the picture. Not even a dig at Waxman, literally all the other films I've seen where he provides a score are also horror based (Rear Window, Sunset Boulevard, Bride of Frankenstein and Dark Passage) and it doesn't ruin them. Bad day at the office from him. Based on this, I may end up preferring Wheatley's version but we'll have to find out.

Wheatley's comeback was 2021's In the Earth. Mentioned this back in a previous issue but this is the best film made under Covid regulations that's also about Covid regulations. Finally, that has caught us up with all things Ben Wheatley. At this stage, you may be wondering what has attracted Wheatley to a big dumb Hollywood spectacle such as this? Craving some commercial fun again like Free Fire or a take the money and run after some weaker efforts and his last being firmly arthouse? You'd have to take that up with him. Hollywood is a chessboard and sometimes you have to make strange moves to stay in the game. Everybody needs a commercial hit now and then to stay bankrolled. "Keeping the lights on", as they say. As a creature feature fan, I can't complain, only the elitist nerds will moan and turn their noses up at the prospect of summer fun. Honestly, what puzzled me more was not why he would do this but how he would do this.

This is what I had to find out. Could Wheatley battle the studios, come out on top and leave his stamp on this stupid franchise? Let's see. One person who enjoyed my review of the first Meg was Ricardo Carvalho. So much so it led him to watch it in the cinema with his girlfriend at the time whilst 10 beers in. When you go that far, you can really feel the primal battle of man and beast. It blocks out the bullshit and you're left believing that The Meg is a masterpiece in fight or flight. Jason Statham, he fights.

Naturally, Mr Carvalho wanted in on this second wind of action from the start and so when the trailer dropped, we had that straight on. Let's go through this, in that trailer, we had Heart's Barracuda (incredible track selection), a Jason Statham 80s training montage and then closed up with a sneak peek of Jason Statham and his nemesis up close (Statham literally throws kicks at The Meg repeatedly). Trailers have a habit these days of revealing too much information but it was undoubtedly clear from these ingredients that we were on track for a summer blockbuster banger.

Plans were set. Meet at Kelly's apartment at 6pm and then roll on out to the boozer for 7pm and cinema for 7.50, ready to pick up the undefeated cinematic scran of nachos, jalapenos and cheese before the screening.

Ricardo Carvalho doesn't understand the concept of time so he decided to show up at mine at about half 7. Somebody teach that man how to tell the time please. My own son, Weng Weng, is 5 and he knows how to do it. In the meantime, Danger Mouse and I ended up watching some old Star Trek episodes on the telly to fill the time. He was greeted at the door by a Hawaii shirt wearing Kelly and the sounds of Italian synthpop duo Righeira's Tanzen mit Righeira. Not a regular rig out but when the dress code is beach, I'm not letting the side down. Asked Danger Mouse where his beach gear was and his only words were, "can't be making myself a tasty meal to The Meg like that". Our Star Trek episode was ruined/made better due to a dodgy viewing experience that bordered on psychedelic. Captain Kirk was constantly dissolving in to Mr Spock in truly disturbing fashion. Suddenly, it occurred to me next time, I'm looking for some acid, I'll just heavily decompress a downloaded file and save my money.

Carvalho's late arrival set the plans back and so we didn't get to the boozer until 7.40pm. No beach gear from him either. Although, this meant a speedy pint it allowed me to see less of that bastard Haaland dominating the prem again from the outset. Someone just take one for the team, get the suspension and take his legs out like Roy Keane did his da back in the day.

The minutes are ticking away here. Missed the adverts. Missing the trailers. Posing the serious dilemma of can The Meg 2 be watched without the ultimate cinematic scran and a beverage in hand? Absolutely not, so we rushed and rushed through the queue, making it just in the nick of time. When we reached the front of the queue, Ricardo and I conferred with each other and came to conclusion that The Meg 2: The Trench was strictly a suit and tie with a bottle of wine affair. We'd failed on the suits but the wine was not optional. At the Odeon in Liverpool, for some odd reason they don't give you a bottle, they pour it in to a plastic container. So if you saw a funny looking man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, holding a plastic container of Malbec, a whole box of nachos, cheese and Jalapenos and a cheeky grin on his face that read: here to cause trouble. That was quite possibly and most likely, myself.

Having located our seats, Danger Mouse decides now is the time to add, "wait, I've never even seen the first one. Am I going to be able to follow this?". "Tough one to call, I think what we should all be worried about is that there are 7 books of this series that neither of us have read", I weigh in. "Fucking hell, that's it, we're becoming connoisseurs of The Meg", states Ricardo Carvalho. "The REAL MCU", declares Danger Mouse. Ricardo begins doing the maths and complains that, "we can't be leaving any more 5 year gaps between movies, otherwise a crippled Jason Statham isn't making it out the retirement home for The Meg 6" "Lad, that's ex-Olympic diver Jason Statham you're talking about there, show some respect", I demand.

How act one of The Meg 2 turned out to just as sloppy as the first one, we shall never know. Personally, I assumed it would go a lot smoother, considering we know who all these characters are this time and so introductions are not really necessary. Statham's reintroduction is the strongest part. We get to see him doing some James Bond spy work, splitting his time between Meg research and exposing environmental criminals at sea. Statham is still the bastard we know and love but he's now raising Meiying (a role he takes very seriously).

Meiying's uncle is also established as the hot head of the group. In a display of cocky arrogance, he decides to play chicken with The Meg to illustrate he can control her like a dog. You're not Statham, grow up lad. After what seems like an age, they eventually descend in to the titular trench. Aspiring scientist Meiying plays stowaway on the submersible, leaving one angry Statham. Naturally, this is the moment a routine trip to the trenches goes very wrong with there being multiple Megs looking for food and an illegal mining operation taking place at the same time. With their submersibles destroyed, (a seemingly recurring problem in 2023), the gang have no other option but to walk across the ocean floor to safety.

Back up top in the control room, Cliff Curtis has his first lover's tiff with Statham over the comms. Cliff states the obvious and points out the idea of walking 27km across the bottom of the ocean is utterly preposterous. Don't question my methods basically screams now fully fuming Statham. As always with these movies, the oxygen tanks last forever and the bends do not exist. Oh yeah, and supposedly smart scientists always do dumb shit like playing with unknown animals. Why Cliff couldn't offer Statham and crew a lift to the surface in another submersible, I'm not too sure. If you think this is bad, you should have been around in my younger days living on the Wirral and trying to get taxis home from Liverpool after a night out. Finally, someone has captured that surreal experience from my youth on screen.

As this second act progresses, it just gets weirder and weirder, I turned to Ricardo and asked, "why have they all got guns now? They're fucking scientists doing routine missions". He did not have the answer. Then it dawned on me, all this repeated usage of the plural, "Megs" (the funniest example being when Statham at one point asks, "is it Megs?"), crewmembers now going in armed and a dodgy corporation literally acting shady beneath the surface, I knew where Wheatley was going with this. I'm on to you. Go on say it, Kelly. He's hijacked a Meg movie to make his own shoddy Aliens. Nothing but respect, my brother.

Armed with this discovery, you now have to drink every time someone says, "Megs". This will get you through this tough period where Wheatley is attempting to seize control from the studio and actually direct this movie. Towards the end of this act we get a scene of true hilarity. To save the scientists, Statham has to hold his breath and traverse across the ocean to another side in order to release a hatch so they don't all drown. The experts give him about 30 seconds before he will pass out. So he starts holding his breath and we get one of the funniest shots of the movie, which is just Jason Statham staring straight in to the camera intensely, as the water rises and his nose bleeds from the pressure. Of course, he survives the stunt, leading one of the team to cry out, "It's The Deviated Septum!".

After some slow plodding across the bottom of the ocean and slowly finding the movie, once they reach the surface, Wheatley takes over and this becomes, and I say with no hesitation the best dumb modern American creature feature since Piranha 3D. Cliff Curtis and Page Kennedy find each other and the movie finds itself. The buddy cop comes out and it’s a real blast watching those fellas work together. Page Kennedy pulls out a massive weapon and comments that he has silver tipped bullets "Like Jaws 2". Danger Mouse chuckles and chimes in that, "That's a line for Jacob Kelly. They know their audience with that one". Could not agree more. Curtis and Kennedy pull a routine I've never seen before. One of them has the gun and the other pepper spray. Their technique is to open a door, pepper spray the other side first to blind any bad guys and then walk through. They end up pepper spraying the air and walking straight in to it injuring themselves. That's a new one.

Right there needs to be a word for this but I've definitely seen this one a few times. M. Night Shyamalan did it on Glass, when he introduced a mass group of anti-superheroes with no warning in any previous acts. A general rule in film is most third act reveals are first set up subtly in act one but not doing so can be equally hilarious as new information literally comes from nowhere.

The Meg 2 does something similar in revealing Fun Island. No early introduction as to what this is or indication of where this is. All you need to know is that there's this place called Fun Island and that is where people go to party. Clear my calendar, pack my bags and take me there. Has just about the dumbest name but I'm so behind it, it's unreal. Now this is a big shout but this could be my favourite island since Scooby Doo's Spooky Island. Not quite Godzilla Island but it's up there. Take me back. This location is so good it sort of substitutes in for the movie. I'm sure in years to come I'll be thinking about that one night I drank 3 pints and a bottle of Malbec and went to Fun Island. Catch me sat singing in the corner of the room in times of stress, "There, there is a place, where I can go, when I feel low, when I feel blue, and it's Fun Island!".

Need to tell Sterling Kingfisher about this one, he's gonna love it. Makes sitting through all that Syfy crap worth it. They even have the dog from the first movie! He gets around more than Brian Wilson. Fun Island will forever be the place where Ben Wheatley made it happen. This is the place where he created the most trashy big budget creature feature in recent memory go off the rails and in the right way. Think Jurassic Park but way dumber. Around the time they re-surface, this gets dumber at an alarming rate of about every 10 minutes, which is about how fast I was going through each glass of wine so it fit perfectly. We went down this road together Meg and I. Where others failed to deliver on the monster mayhem, Wheatley did it and for that he has my undying respect.

Another bizarre act 3 introduction with pretty much no set up is the giant octopus. A late attempt at a kaiju box office grudge match? Where did he come from? Why was he about these parts? Must have missed something there under the effects of the Malbec but don't recall anything being mentioned as to why there's a giant octopus just looming the coast of Fun Island. Some things are better left unexplained.

We need to talk about the shot from inside The Meg's mouth where he's just straight up chomping on people. Thankfully, Wheatley has already addressed this saying they held meetings on funny ways for a Meg to kill a person. Where was my invite, Ben? I'd have been there in full suit and briefcase for that. Think of the studio resources we could have abused? The money wasted on mischief? Anyway, hang a frame of that shot in The Louvre, it's a work of art. Those who love a good one liner will be satisfied when Jason Statham kicks a guy in to The Meg's mouth and says, "See ya later, chum". Action fans too will be happy to see Harry GregsonWilliams providing the score for this maelstrom. He'll always be a legend for his work with Tony Scott (RIP the King).

Kennedy gets his chance to use those silver tipped bullets and he absolutely nails it. He dives through the air, firing off shots as he screams about how the haters are wrong about the usefulness of silver tipper bullets. In the process, proving all the haters wrong. It takes longer than it should but Statham finds his place once more on a jet ski with those spears again. This time he's come prepared and has a little holder on his back for the spears. Don't you just love it when a man knows he's going to get on horseback and fight another battle? This image and his character is already so iconic in cinema that Ricardo Carvalho sat up in his chair and began rubbing his hands together the minute this happened and let out a, "this is what I came to see". Unfortunately, I was a lot more incomprehensible and could only chant repeatedly, "Get 'em Jason!", from the back of the cinema. Breaking cinema etiquette or aiding the cinema experience?

I think for a movie like The Meg 2, audience participation is as welcomed as it was in the times of the glorious grindhouse. As Shia Labeouf once said, "this ain't the opera, Jackass!"

Things to take away from The Meg 2. Wheatley takes on the studio and eventually comes out top in act 3, channelling the genres heyday in the '50s. Jason Statham is back in fine form with a new nickname of "The Deviated Septum". The Meg puts in a better performance too. Whereas, last time she was on the razzies, this year the oscars could be calling. This might be the Malbec talking but I think The Meg 2: The Trench is a minor masterpiece in the genre.

Director: Ben Wheatley

Screenplay: Jon Hoeber, Erich Hoeber, Dean Georgaris, Steve Alten

Cinematography: Haris Zambarloukos

Music: Harry Gregson-Williams

Production Company: CMC Pictures, Di Bonaventura

Distribution: Warner Bros

Country: USA

Run Time: 116 mins

Budget: 130 mil

Plot Synopsis: Splitting his time between James Bond eco-missions, Meg research and being a single father, Jason Statham is now off the alcohol and a restored respectable name in Science. When multiple Megs breakout from the titular Trench, he must stock up on spears and ride the jet ski once more.

Bonus Points:

-Statham's re-introduction with having him doing ecomissions and taking down pirates

-Ben Wheatley's attempts to make this his Aliens, the repeated use of the word "Megs" and that shot from inside the sharks mouth as it chomps away

-Statham deciding its perfectly fine to walk 27km across the ocean floor

-Statham for that shot where he intenely holds his breath and earns the nickname, "The Deviated Septum"

-Cliff Curtis and Page Kennedy buddy cop routines with the pepper spray and Jaws 2 silver tipped bullets

-Bringing back the dog from the first film

-The Giant Octopus allowing us to have a box office kaiju grudge match

-Fun Island

Overall Score: 4/5

Shootin' off Kenergy

The boys in the barroom living it up, shootin' off Kenergy! The guys on the sidewalk workin' it out, talkin' 'bout Kenergy! Kenergy! Kenergy! Kenergy! Go on just say it. Share it with the world. It feels good. I know you've all been waiting for this one. Might not have double billed them as I should have but I'm considering operation Barbenheimer: complete. What a phenonmenon that has been. One for him and one for her. One to make you miserable and one to make you happy. Normally, these types of films are competing with each other but in a rare incidence these two films supported each other and everyone got behind it including the directors. Noone could lose, competition was erased. Talking about one increased the popularity of the other. Cinemas greatest friendship. This is unprecedented. Regardless of your thoughts on the movies to see this unique model being used that brought everyone to the cinema in unity is something as a film fan you can only champion. Nolan may not have saved cinema with the under-appreciated Tenet but Barbenheimer might.

I picked up my own Barbie from the bus stop by Five Guys at 16:45. We headed down to Mathew Street, had a single pint to take the edge off and made our way to the cinema. At the kiosk, we decide to order a bottle of wine each. Oh no, I'm thinking I'm barely over last night's drinking with The Meg 2. Some things you just have to do though. Like imagine seeing Barbie and not being completely wine drunk. You'd have to take a good long look at yourself and maybe tweet an apology to Greta Gerwig herself. Couldn't let her down like that. If your heads not in Barbieland you're not ready to see this motion picture. When it started there was an age rating that appeared which I may have seen a couple of times in my life. Namely in Mamma Mia. This film is rated W for Wine Drunk. Anyone not seen with a glass of wine in their hand as they walk through the golden doors will be refused entry. A bouncer stands in shades on arrival, just two items on the checklist, Dan's and water drinkers are excluded. So if you don't want the hand as big as a brick wall invading your line of sight and the "not tonight", then I advise you make sure you're well stocked up otherwise you're not getting past the kiosk.

To avoid such a travesty, we remembered we had 2 hands, meaning one for a bottle of wine and the other for the glass. This is how God, Mattel, Hasbro or whoever the fuck created us. Simple mathematics. I sent Ricardo Carvalho a picture of my second plastic wine container in 24 hours, captioned with, "we go again!". Yep, I was back on the sauce. Any more of this and I'd need to get me one of those cringey signs to hang on my wall like, "Ask not wine has done for you but rather what you're willing to do for wine". Ricardo's reply was just, "you animal!"

On that hair of the dog, we bounce on over to our seats and I pour us our first glass of vino. Unfortunately, it's bad trailer after bad trailer, meaning that this is usually an indicator of what you're going to get or that a marketer has not positioned it right. There's a trailer for some Disney movie. Christ, those guys will never stop. Whatever keeps the kids happy. Luckily, I don't have to see too many of them cause my kid Weng Weng is more in to his Amblin Entertainment these days so I get to avoid all that. "What are you doing for the Disney 100 night?", asks my Barbie. "Barbie, I'm 26 years old. I can't really say I was clued up on the fact those fascists had been going that long". The machine rolls on and they keep pumping them out.

I forgot how much that Disney princess shit works on women. Really messes with their cerebrum. I seen it happen, man. It's worse than 'nam. Barbie doubles down with, "you are celebrating it with me". I turn to face her and look deep in to her eyes as I add, "do I have to?". Always making you do stupid shit women. You never get this from the guys. I mentioned I could probably handle Fantasia and Joe Dante's Looney Tunes: Back in Action but any more would be considered torture of the male species. All I hoped was Gerwig's Barbie wasn't going to be some soft get the tissues out and cry live action Disney movie. Like a true white girl, I came to drink wine and behave stupidly. Anything even remotely sentimental can take the bus.

Barbie gets this show on the road in the perfect way, becoming Jacques Tati's PlayTime on Sauvignon Blanc. A real stylistic triumph for Greta Gerwig. From the colour palette to the music. Honestly, it's immaculate and I had a fabulous time just getting lost in her creation and figuring out its rules. There's this existential 2001 style opening that gets points for the weirdness of having a massive Margot Robbie reaching in to the skies. Where it fails is the punchline of the doll being thrown in to the air. I was kept in suspense wondering how the match cut would work. Kubrick used his match cut (the most famous in cinema) to make the link between a development of technology and war by going from this bone to a ship. Whereas, Gerwig doesn't seem to know what a match cut is for (even Highlander knew how to use them!) and just goes straight to the title credits. Booooooo, very lazy. A missed opportunity.

In this world, Girls Just Want to Have Fun plays constantly, everybody dances 'til the sun goes down and nobody fights. Reminiscent of Miami Vice's pilot where Tubb's is sipping on some cocktail on the beach and his partner Crockett turns up in a peach suit jacket and sunnies having defeated toxic masculinity but in Barbieland men are now subservient slaves like the dystopian Planet of the Apes . I think they call it feminism. My notes on Barbieland: it's like the real world, except women are in charge. I know how preposterous. But they can dream. Even got a black woman president. Please, we've barely got past blacks dying first in slashers so this is just outrageous. Honourable gentlemen Nixon and Reagan would be turning in their graves if they got word of this shit. Ken's have only one function and that is to serve their Barbie. To make her happy at all costs. There is no selfworth, only pure altruism. Wrapped around the finger like when Mads Mikkelson played Rihanna's bitch in the Bitch Better Have My Money music video. He's Just Ken.

On one bright morning, Ken decides he will provide Barbie with some fresh entertainment by surfing a wave like Frankie Avalon. As is revealed, Ken has more in common with losers like Brian Wilson and myself, being more of a HoDad or beach bum who does not possess any natural surfing abilities.

There's two types of people in this world. Those who are here to surf the big wave like Patrick Swayze and those of us who rock up the beach in Hawaii shirts, shorts, sandals and sunnies singing, "Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take ya, Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama, Key Largo, Montego. Baby why don't we go? Jamaica!". Ken fits in the latter category with the rest of us posers. This leads in to the amazing scene where Ken injures himself and all the boys start screaming they're gonna "beach" each other off. This was incredible, as a throwback to the beach cycle and Elvis movies but through the peculiar mind of Greta Gerwig, this was a real treat. Her most effortlessly fun movie. I've never been a big fan of musicals but I love dance movies and that's what this was a big budget music heavy hangout. Some absolutely stellar movies being thrown. There isn't a name for it yet but I'd like to nominate, "The Ken shuffle" Already seen this doing the rounds perfectly synched to Kavinsky's Nightcall. I want to see this move at the next gaff and if it doesn't come complete with the wicked smirk and wine throw, don't even bother showing up.

So far everything was being communicated through style. It was all about the visual creation of its world and understanding the dynamic between characters in a purely Tati sense. Script more background noise in avantgarde fashion. Exactly the political spectacle it wanted to be without being irritatingly forced. However, the good times wouldn't last. As soon as they visit the real world, the heavy handed moralising comes out and it reveals a week script. The critique becomes far too clear and obvious ruining the impact. There's no way it will ever get you to change your mind about your feelings towards the patriarchal society but as a big dumb silly tongue cheek criticism it’s a guaranteed good time, as long as you've got an ample amount of vino. Keep sipping away laughing at the surreal fish out of water sketches of Ken applying for jobs on beaches, demanding to be a doctor and chatting shit about horses. The wackiness triumphs over the seriousness.

Here we are trying to celebrate women and there's that cheeky bastard Ryan Gosling as Ken stealing the show with his insanely memorable performance. When he declares, "every night is boys night", I raised my glass to the roof and let out a long loud, "yesssssss!" Every dude in the house loved that and also began cheering and raising their glasses. Heaviest thing is I don't even know if I meant that one ironically. I wasn't too sure how to feel about any of it. This movie really took off when Ken was being a bad boy. Reads a few books in the real world, sneaks back off to Barbieland and infiltrates it to be a male dominant society. Like the naughty Biff in Back to the Future Part 2, he's making a few changes round here! Only wrongdoers (w*men) should be worried. Dudes most certainly rock in Kenland. After my outburst, my Barbie asks, "what's so funny?". W*men.

Later, my Barbie was trying to give me a breakdown of her week. This I genuinely did want to know but not right at this moment. "Babe, can't you see Ken's speaking right now. That's my guy right there. I need to know what his message for my people is", I quickly fired across. Ken's wardrobe is impeccable and you can't beat the camp elements of him bringing out all his kung fu moves and storming the beaches like its Normandy. Where was this guy back in World War 2? Churchill would have loved him. Who wouldn't? Gosling genuinely surprised me here and there's real talk of early Oscar buzz. Something that doesn't fully sit right with me though because correct me if I'm wrong but isn't this girls hour? Celebrating female achievements and what not? Truthfully we may have to consider the fact that Margot Robbie might not be a very good actor. I mean, she's great to look at and I'm always rooting for her but this isn't the first time she's failed to go beyond being a visual spectacle.

Both of these leads were superbly cast because over the years Goslings forged and I say this with complete respect for his art, a wooden persona. I've written about this before but I think he's one of the most interesting actors to emerge in the last 20 years or so. Where you see wood, I see an artist. A once in a generation kind of actor.

We've had Dicaprio, who deserves respect for bringing in the crowds on non-franchise R-rated movies that aren't part of the superhero genre and pretty much keeping that rating alive at studio level. The Wolf of Wall Street is arguably more his movie than Scorsese's. Dicaprio brings that raw Caligula ugly debauchery parodying both himself and the horrors he's seen in the industry since he was a boy. Dicaprio was the one brought the book to Scorsese's attention in the first place like DeNiro did with Raging Bull Scorsese struggles to make a decent character study out of it narratively like he did with previous controversial characters. So you tell me who's movie that is? We've had Nic Cage, forced to act in cheap DTV garbage due to his debts and using the increased creative freedom to expand on his style of Nouveau Shamanic. We've had Willem Dafoe who's completely fearless and challenged himself by working with every single decent director to emerge in our time.

If an auteur could be an actor though, it would be most appropriately used to describe Ryan Gosling today. David Fincher is the director best associated with the digital age but as an actor it has to be Gosling. He's really mastered taking that isolated detachment in the post-internet, post-Ok Computer world. A cold robotic inability to express emotions with his outer shell with too much of a distinction between his thoughts and actions to the point of being an avatar. Demonstrating it time and time again with Drive, Blade Runner 2049, Only God Forgives and First Man Hence, why I believe he's put that wooden persona of his to good use. Many people tell me he's a bad actor with limited range but I don't care about that. I don't really care about whether a performance is good or bad. I care about how it contributes to the overall vision. I care about the choices they make and the projects they opt to work on. Subscribing to the Alfred Hitchcock school that actors are best described as cattle or pawns, possibly you could say I have less respect for actors than I should but as for Gosling, he's a real artist.

All this leaves you to wonder, how could he then play this high energy ultra camp dude? Well, he's subverted his persona, expanding it in the most unexpected ways. I don't think he's ever going to be a fast paced actor. Even when he's done projects like The Nice Guys with that back and forth buddy cop relationship, he's done it in a unique way, that isn't Joe Pesci, Chris Tucker or Eddie Murphy motormouth but wholly economical achieving a lot with very little. He achieves it through these small but extremely noticeable movements of the body. That's exactly how he's gone about bringing this doll to the screen. Cause let's be honest, taking a child's play thing and building a character out of it is no easy thing.

It brings me no joy to say Margot Robbie doesn't achieve the same here. She is perfect for the role in that she looks flawless and she's best known for her foot flaunters, the near wordless Sharon Tate and the duchess of Bay Ridge Naomi Lapaglia. Tarantino got a lot of stick for his lack of dialogue given to her but I always thought he was going for this heavenly one more day on Earth utopia for an actress who's time was sadly cut short. More of a visual document. Perhaps, the real failing was Robbie, who was unable to communicate anything physically. There's a fantastic joke in Barbie where Helen Mirren as the narrator says something like, "note from the filmmakers it is really hard to make this point with Margot Robbie". In that scene, it's in reference to ugliness but it would also appear to be a wider commentary for the whole film.

As she can't create this character of Barbie that is as solidified as Ken, any points being made about girl power can be rendered useless. There's almost two films going on competing with each other in that second half. There's the black comedy satire of Kenworld and the progressive female championing as Barbie tries to rescue her fellow women. The latter is swept aside by the hilarious comedy of the former, reducing a lot of the progressive points to a whimper. In a sense, there's the movie this should be and the movie Greta Gerwig is trying to make it.

Whilst, I have always loved Geta's acting abilities, I've found her rocky in the director's chair. She blew up after Lady Bird and was referred to far too quickly as one of the best modern day directors. The relationship between mother and daughter is shallow with nothing happening between them to warrant the extreme emotional responses and the observations on 2000s culture rather boring. Little Women had no hope for it. It was just a bunch of women screaming feminism for 2 hours. Very dull, very obvious and very theatrical. And you know I hate anything that commits these sins. I like everything coded otherwise it's just lazy rubbish telling you what you already know. Impact is reduced to nil, don't expect to be surprised, trailers reveal the full story.

When it became clear that Ryan Gosling's Ken was overpowering the movie, they should have tapped in to this more and shaped the narrative further around it. Gerwig's direction swings to naivety by playing it both sides of parodying patriarchy and championing women. It's far too rosy cheeked and bright eyed. Arguably, this could be my exploitation head speaking but this should have taken a dirtier direction. In my mind, the best way to get a point across without appearing preachy is to side with the enemy and do it from their perspective. Let the bad guy shoot themselves in the foot. It's the least annoying strategy. You don't have to make the good people all high and mighty good, that just comes this really obnoxious and unbelievable self-righteous experience. Let the bad guy do all the work for you. It's more fun!

Once again, going back to that exploitation B-Movie head of mine, what this needed was more of a Joe Dante angle. Something like Gremlins and Small Soldiers with that wacky irresponsible dangerous subversiveness rather than all the sweet innocence. When she meets the Mattel board, all men without a woman in sight, we needed more of that harsh and condemning style of comedy. Watching them all sweating as they try to back up their female connections was a delight.

There's a fantastic moment too when Ken invites Barbie back to his place but in the most childish manner, doesn't know what they'll do once back at maison de Ken. Exploitation head again but this was on the sexless side. There needed to be more awkward jokes like that and maybe even a bizarre sex scene. Being a fan of films like Bride of Chucky, this is definitely what I've come to expect from a doll movie and this was certainly tame. Could just be me though, I'll accept that. Would it have stood a chance against Beau is Afraid for most outrageous and awkward sex scene of the year? The answer is only if Jacob Kelly was in charge.

In my hands, Barbie would be more of a big budget repulsive sex spectacle than its turned out to be. I'd be trying to remake Caligula with Kenworld. Ken would be shoving cream up people's arses and fisting them like Malcolm McDowell. There'd be a real clash of sparkly cheery camp and the disgusting, just to keep people on their toes. It would probably be so morally ambiguous that the critics would be saying it crosses the line between satirising and endorsing. But that is where we operate. Nothing more nothing less.

I'm conscious, I've been very critical here of Barbie, which is odd because I really enjoyed it, especially so when it came to the hangout, general weirdness, existentialism (the 2001 reference and late one when they bring out the Oracle in reference to The Matrix) as opposed to the more aggressively political piece it wanted to be. It was too honest to be politically effective, as I said, it needed to be more twisted in that department to catch you off guard.

In Barbie, I can see two sides to Gerwig's style. One I appreciate, the other I don't. For the first time as a director, she's brought that upbeat musical sensibility from Frances Ha. My favourite scene from that being the dancing in the street to Bowie. Barbies like the bigger budget re-imagining with all these wonderful dance routines. Those early scenes are a real party. On the other hand, we also get Gerwig doing that Little Women feminist whimpering with no effect whatsoever.

Girl, if you really want to deliver on that department, you need to get nasty. Go full Agnes "I tried to be a joyful feminist. But I was very angry" Varda mode. There once existed a weird connection between mumblecore and horror (the Creep series being a fine example) and it's not like Gerwig wasn't at that exact intersection, she literally got her head blown off in The House of the Devil. I know this definitely just sounds a personal thing but generally, when I've seen a dumb doll movie work, it's because it's a lot cheekier and more subversive than this.

Credit where credits due though, Barbie is a barrel of laughs and in spite of its narrative and characterisation flaws, as a man raised on endless episodes of Miami Vice, Scarface and upbeat summery action comedies like Beverly Hills Cop who came to love Frankie Avalon and Elvis movies, I'm too enamoured by its camp to call it a bad movie. Trust me, when I say I understand beach mode, I understand beach mode. There's to be no fucking around here. As a member of the fun and silly movement, beach mode is a large part of my DNA. In fact, I haven't been able to shake beach mode for weeks. I'll still be keeping this up no doubt 'til winter, echoing that scene in The Ninth Configuration when Captain Cutshaw strolls over in beach attire saying, "take me to the beach!". To which Colonel Kane replies, "it's night and it's raining". If this happens, you just come back with Captain Cutshaw's response of, "I see you're determined to start an argument"

Also, given the main intention here was to show that women genuinely ruling men is a common misunderstanding of the goals of feminism, the film mainly does a good job as it plays with both a male dominant and female dominant society and then goes on to say feminism is really about equality between genders. However, part of me does think, you’re making a dolls movie, you don't really have to make the accurate point, you're here to be mental so maybe trash men some more. Still, Ken is my leader and I couldn't let him down like that. He fought for our right to boys night every night and should be rewarded as such.

After, we got through the 2 bottles of vino and the credits were rolling, we made a dive towards the nearest crazy golf. Barbie's had more than a few drinks at this point and has to be told to fix her clothing at the door. She was the victim of one of those dresses that keeps slipping. Next, she was struggling to operate her phone to pay. I had to take over by grabbing the phone and moving it towards the card reader. Women pay for things now, it's called feminism, look it up.

The guy behind the till presents us with two visors and we get kitted up. As we stroll over to hole one to tee off, Super Freak by Rick James is pumping out through the speakers and it suddenly occurs to me, with the visor and golf club, I've never exuded so much Kenergy in all my life. Maybe I didn't have the blonde hair and blue eyes but if you're viewing it that way perhaps you need to change your name to Adolf and purchase a copy of Mein Kampf.

Caught up in Rick James, it takes me a good few minutes to realise I don't know where I'm going. There's a staff member on hand nearby and I ask, "Where's the Gary? I'm looking for Gary?". She points me in the direction of Gary. No, I wasn't looking for the pills this evening, that was the name of our course. Soon as we begin teeing up, Barbie decides she wants a drink to go round with. I'm all in on that one, what was I thinking going round empty handed? God, what is this amateur hour? I order a couple of rum and cokes. Doubles. No messing about. The woman on the bar refuses to serve us. "Why?", I demand to know. She points to Barbie, who's dress has now slipped over her shoulder once more. We were revealing too much boob. A second time now I'd been totally oblivious to this issue. "We're just having a good time though?", I say to the bar lady in my defence. "I can get her a water", concedes the bar lady. "I think that would be a good idea", I tell her.

Pictured: Ken on his way to pick up Barbie in the Barbiemobile

In the corner, we fix the dress situation and move on to rehydration. As Brad Pitt said in Moneyball, "it's a process". Time for a trip to the bar take 2. This is the moment I notice I'm flying low, like real low. Fuck sake. Must have left it down following the standard post-cinema piss. That's what that is. Jesus, what a pair. One of us needs to get our head screwed on immediately. Upon making it to the bar, I make sure to go to a different person this time and we're all good. The beverages are flowing once more and the good times continue.

Having taken care of the drinks, we return to the Gary, ready to tee off hole one. Without further delay, I'm keen to get this golf game started. Rearing to go. Politicians in My Eyes by Death is roaring across the room. I'm not too sure how many people had to overtake us cause we were taking too long on each hole. I was hammering them in to the bar area and Barbie didn't even know where the ball was. Also, if you don't curse every inanimate object on the course that ruins your shot in crazy golf, I just don't respect you as a person. Since, keeping count in a state like this impossible, I make sure to mark every hole 1 or 2 under par. As king of memory manipulation, Leonard Shelby said, "Do I lie to myself to be happy? Yes"

Finally, we make it to the 9th hole and we're all done but Barbie doesn't want to leave. She explains to me the problem and I tell another group of people to go ahead of us, saying, "she's having an existential crisis at hole 9". "We've all been there", replies the golfer. I'd heard of this. Only a true golfer would understand. It's that phenomenon right after bursting off a few holes and then facing a return to reality. The linksmen call it post-golf dysphoria. You want to go back to hole 1 but alas, you can't. Life does not work that way. Once you are off the course, you are done. You only get this life guaranteed and that is it. No restarts, no retakes. There is no backwards, just forwards. I can only tell my Barbie that things will get better, I promise.

Since we're both useless to the world in our current state, having been proved by a horrifying performance on the Gary, I decide it's time to escort the lady back home and so we make our way back to the bus stop. The bus driver makes reference to Barbie's boob being out again. She fixes it for the last time and we grab ourselves some seats. "This dress is coming a serious problem", says Barbie. "Yeah, tonight it's been our Achilles...erm....foot", I add. Having completely botched that one, I know it's time for bed. Not even 10pm but when you know it's over, it's all over. Let the soil fall over my head. Blow the whistle, throw in the towel and abandon the game. We've made a fool of ourselves. How did I forget where Achilles got shot? I've seen Troy with Brad Pitt a million times!

You know Wolfgang Peterson made 2 more pictures after Troy. The penultimate being this dreadful Poseidon remake with Kurt Russell. One last stab at a boat movie. Must have thought he was 10 men because he'd made the German submarine classic Das Boot years ago and decided if there was anyone who could bring back the '70s big budget disaster movie it was him. You're a spent force, Wolfgang. Go home! Should have hit the hay or more appropriately abandoned ship. The moment you feel the soil pouring over your head and you've firmly outstayed your welcome that's when you cut your losses and cry out, "Gute nacht alles und danke fur coming. Auf Widersehn!". Being a responsible man, unlike our friend Wolfgang Peterson, I say, "Barbie, get me to bed".

Without further ado, she grants my request and directs me to the nearest bed. She would later say, "well, you didn't fuck me on a park bench this time", with major relief and minor disappointment, relating to a drunken evening a few years back. "I know right. I guess this means our friendship is blossoming", was my reply.

***A note here from the editor, public sex has popped up on two separate occasions in recent weeks, to be clear, Funeralopolis does not condone public sex. This is strictly a Kelly problem and he says he is working on it. We asked him to come clean on any further incidents that may bring shame to this respectful zine and he said, "No further incidents. Oh wait, there was one time when a few of us were cramped in a Berlin public toilet cubicle getting up to no good, praying the number of feet didn't give us away. Does that count?". "Well, kind of answered your own question there", was all our editor in chief could respond. We will be monitoring this situation closely and if necessary taking it up with the relevant support groups.***

Brain fried from the wine, this body is ready to shut down. Dirty, the beloved household cat, named after the infamous Wu Tang Clan member who once evaded the authorities only to be caught in a McDonalds, is perched on the windowsill. He's gazing in to the lone eye of the moon, waiting to welcome the morning and ensuring I come to no harm. An energetic fellow that cat but being Doctor Doolittle, we had managed to bond earlier in the evening and were now best of friends. I would not let anything hurt him and he would not let anything hurt me. Gazing in to each other's eyes, it was total respect, we knew this game was ride or die. Nothing less would do, I would take a bullet for Dirty and him me. No question about it. That was loyalty you couldn't buy. I'm good with animals, they say I have a real "calming presence". Whatever that means.

I just knew it was time to sleep. The Meg, the Barbie and the vino had done a number on me. And to think this was meant to be a chilled month. Especially, after last month's dreams of mushroom clouds and visions of the apocalypse. This was meant to be a take it easy issue. Maybe this is the motto at Funeralopolis, "next month we shall get our shit together". Waiting for the thing that never comes. "Mañana", as the Mexicans say.

A cold wind blows through, summers final words. Autumn is dawning and soon will take everything in her path. Shorter days and longer nights. The exhausted landscape sheds its skin so it may be reborn again. Onlookers can only give in to the process and witness the harmonic cycle or be condemned to melancholia. I look over at my guardian protector ODB, he glances at me and then back through the open window. Outside down below, I see three women stood looking at a misty golden vision with a bugle and drum. Dirty and I are just waiting for the miracle to come

Director: Greta Gerwig

Screenplay: Greta Gerwig, Noah Baumbach

Cinematography: Rodrigo Prieto

Music: Mark Ronson, Andrew Wyatt

Production Company: Heyday Films, LuckyChap Entertainment, Mattel Films

Distribution: Warner Bros

Country: USA

Run Time: 114 mins

Budget: 128-145 mil

Plot Synopsis: An existential crisis leads Barbie and Ken away from their home of Barbieland and in to the real world where they make several shocking discoveries that will forever change their identities.

Bonus Points:

-2001 opening with a giant Margot Robbie

-Margot Robbie's feet

-The boys trying to "Beach" each other off. Gerwig going for a proper old school Frankie Avalon/Elvis movie

-The Ken Shuffle

-The Barbiemobile

-The Mattel board squirming when its observed they have no female members

-Ken applying for numerous jobs with no experience, reading a few books, learning about patriarchy and then returning to Barbieland to make changes like Biff in Back to the Future Part 2

-Ken declaring every night as boys night

-The Oracle Overall Score: 4/5