Well, technically Day 1.5, due to the trial...but then the day started with the gym, and replacing a toilet seat and shower-curtain, so...
Mass Effect: Andromeda: Day 1
The first thing that bothered me when playing the trial was why all of the these scientists were so surprised Andromeda was a little different to what they expected before they left the Milky Way. It's almost as if these "scientists" skipped their very first physics lesson in high-school, and weren't aware that when you look at something from 2 million light years away, you see it how it was 2 million years ago.
I later happened across a piece of dialogue that supposedly explained this, but the explanation was complete bollocks, and showed the writer probably also missed said class.
And yes, as everyone has pointed out, the character models suck. They didn't bother me so much during the trial, but the longer I play, the more issues I'm seeing. Supporting human characters are universally bad, as is squad-mate Liam. Corra fairs better, and my Ryder, at least, is actually quite good - certainly more naturally expressive than Shepard - though I'd assume that can depend greatly on the design you go for.
The asari are somewhat better than the humans, though still a little stiff, and the rest of the aliens also look quite good, probably by virtue of looking so non-human in the first place.
Part of the problem seems to be that they've put so much effort into avoiding the puppet-like quality of the character movement in the previous games (for some of the characters, at least), that they instead appear disjointed, and ironically even more awkward than they used to.
One thing that is a step up from the previous trilogy is the characters' heights. While before, the krogan, for example, towered over everyone else in cut-scenes (just look at Grunt's reveal in ME2), beyond that, they were the same height as everyone else. In Andromeda, there is genuine variety, from the diminutive Peebee, to the statuesque Vetra, to the towering Drack.
Outside the character models, the game actually looks rather good, even on a GTX 980 (hardly a wimpy GPU, but nevertheless below recommended specs). The vistas are nice, the sky-boxes are vast, and I like the galaxy map and the new effect when whipping around it (it may get tedious after a while, but I'm good with it for now).
And despite the GPU, and being 4GB short of the recommended 16GB of RAM, graphical issues are very few and far between.
Sound balancing, unfortunately, is way off, whatever setting used. Unless you're within two feet of a character, and facing them, they sound like they're speaking through a wall a hundred yards away. It's not so bad in direct conversations (unless the character is walking around too much), but the little asides and overheard conversations - which played such a big part in adding atmosphere, life and depth to ME3 - are barely audible.
That said, the voice acting (when you can hear it) is great. I can't speak for MaleRyder, but FemRyder has a vivacity and youthful wonder that's always enjoyable, and her fellow crew members are fun to talk to...mostly.
Corra is your typical stuck-up soldier character, so like Kaiden, Ashley and Jacob before her, she's the boring crew member you only talk to for the sake of covering everyone.
Liam also comes dangerously close to the same, but has a bit of goofiness to make him a little more interesting.
Drack is your standard krogan, but taken to such an extreme - in both attitude and design - he stands out comfortably against Wrex and Grunt.
Far more interesting, however - at least from a characterisation perspective - are Vetra and Peebee.
Vetra has the usual turian stoicism, but without the military obsession with authority, or hard-on for calibrations. She does have some of Garus's snark, but with a slyness undercutting it that sets her aside.
As for Peebee: she's almost completely lacking in any asari trait. Despite sharing Liara's archaeological giddiness, gone is the sensual grace and ethereal elegance typical of her species (Matriarch Aethyta notwithstanding). She's far more reminiscent of Sera from Dragon Age Inquisition (minus the ADHD) than the standard asari maiden.
My biggest criticism with the characters is that, having completed my first post-tutorial planet mission, I already have all but one of my crew, and thanks to the silhouette on the crew roster, and the overly revealing marketing campaign, there's no surprise as to who - or, at least, what - that final crew member is going to be.
On the gameplay front, it's all good so far. The return to a non-locking cover system - ala ME1 - is jarring at first, but it promotes more fluid, kinetic combat, especially when playing a vanguard. The new tools - including a jump-jet, dash and new melee attack - take some getting used to, and it's easy to get overwhelmed early on (the game is not forgiving for newbies (especially in multiplayer)), but once you get the hang of it, it's a lot of fun, and probably the best of the series so far.
As is the levelling system. Like the combat, it can be overwhelming, but if you've got a good idea of the type of character you want to play, there's a lot of scope in there for personalisation, especially with the addition of multiple specialisations, and the crafting system.
In some respects, crafting isn't quite as in-depth or user friendly as that of DG: Inquisition, but it's a welcome addition, as is the mining mechanic, which now incorporates the new ATV, the Nomad.
Though returning briefly to narrative issues; it's odd that technology appears to have moved on so much, despite everyone leaving the Milky Way pre-ME3, and being asleep for 600 years (they apparently don't even need Mass Relays to hop between systems any more).
Andromeda has taken a lot of heat from critics for how slapdash a lot of it is, and I can't really argue with that. Given that this is the first Mass Effect of a new generation, we were right to expect better from Bioware, especially as - from a technical standpoint - we've already seen better from them in Dragon Age.
That said, the combat has been improved, the story is intriguing (if relying a little too much on suspension of disbelief), the multiplayer's solid (incorporating it directly into the main campaign is a nice touch) and most importantly, this does (so far) feel like a Mass Effect game.
I've still a long way to go, but for now it feels good to be back.
Thursday, 23 March 2017
Saturday, 18 March 2017
Budgets Large, Budgets Small, Budgets Wasted on Bugger-All
A mere two days after my last review roundup, I find myself with another five to do, but seeing as I'm only three episodes in to (the so far rather tedious) Iron Fist, and I've only completed the trial of (the so far excellent (though as ropy around the edges as its forebears)) Mass Effect: Andromeda, I'll stick with the movie options for now.
Starting with Ghost in the Shell.
Technically, I should put this off like those other two, as I've only seen the first 13 minutes, but having seen those first 13 minutes, I have no desire to see any more. The film got a lot of flack when first announced, not only because it was yet another doomed-to-failure Hollywood adaptation of a beloved anime, but because of the casting of Scarlet Johansson as "The Major".
Or, to give the character her full name (which, evidently, the film tries to avoid), Major Mokoto Kusanagi:
Starting with Ghost in the Shell.
Technically, I should put this off like those other two, as I've only seen the first 13 minutes, but having seen those first 13 minutes, I have no desire to see any more. The film got a lot of flack when first announced, not only because it was yet another doomed-to-failure Hollywood adaptation of a beloved anime, but because of the casting of Scarlet Johansson as "The Major".
Or, to give the character her full name (which, evidently, the film tries to avoid), Major Mokoto Kusanagi:
Who spends more time in Super Hero Landing pose than Marvel's entire cast combined
Granted, the character doesn't look very Japanese (purple hair aside), but this was nevertheless an opportunity to give much-needed exposure to an Asian actress in a major leading role (no pun intended), and Hollywood simply pussied out. Similar to The Great Wall, I have seen comments from Asian commentators welcoming the casting of these big-name Hollywood actors in these roles, as they will potentially draw in the crowds and raise interest in these Asian properties, but I'm afraid it doesn't really work like that.
In terms of The Great Wall, anyone going to see it for the epic martial arts action is already sold on the genre and is left curious as to what Matt Damon has to do with any of it, and anyone going to see it for Matt Damon is confused as to why he's apparently playing Jason Bourne meets Legolass in the middle of Cirque du Soleil.
As for Ghost in the Shell, anyone going to see it because they love the anime and/or Manga, and anyone going to see it for Scar Jo in a skin-suit, are going to be put off by the simple fact it's crap.
The whole white-washing controversy is the least of its issues. By the sweet balls of Masamune Shirow, have they missed the mark with this one! From the hackneyed, clichéd plot - laid out in the opening two minutes by some cringe-worthy exposition - to the garish aesthetic, to the Charlie's Angels-quality wire work, there's an amateurishness to the whole production that reeks of desperation. And even Johansson's magnificent curves aren't enough to save it.
Also, even as someone always down on Hollywood's misguided obsession with the dead-on-arrival tech, the 3D here is particularly atrocious.
Fortunately, this 13 minutes of predictable tedium was brought to us courtesy of an advanced screening of Free Fire. One of my favourite scenes in the tremendous Pineapple Express comes at the climax, as a bunch of cowardly, gun-shy incompetents become embroiled in an epic shoot-out. Free Fire takes that basic idea, throws in a somewhat more diverse cast, and draws it out to an hour and a half.
And it is wonderful!
Every member of the cast is on point, with Cillian Murphy adding farcical comedy to his already-eclectic range, Armie Hammer completely shaking off The Lone Ranger as a bodyguard just close enough to being as good as he thinks he is to warrant the bravado, yet just far enough from it to make that bravado hilarious, and Brie Larson showing there's more to her than just intense, Oscar-bait drama or token monster-movie totty.
The supporting cast is equally as strong, with the rival dogs-bodies of each group playing off each other, and the rest of the cast, tremendously.
But it's Sharlto Copely who steals the show. Having come to prominence as an out-of-his-depth bureaucrat in District 9, surprised all us 80s kids with a fantastic turn as Howling Mad Murdoch in The A-Team, then brutal heavy in Elysium, and creepy and sinister in Old Boy, his diversity shows no bounds as a slimy and skeevy used-car-salesman-come-weapons-dealer. He's cocky, yet neurotic and cowardly; savvy, yet moronic; two-faced, yet desperate for loyalty. He's by no means a subtle character, but he is nevertheless convincing, and utterly hilarious.
Outside of the cast, the script is as sharp as a playful Tarantino, the action is inspired in its idiocy, and bloody to the point of brutal when it needs to be, and the film moves at such a pace, its 90 minutes felt like brisk sprint next to Ghost in the Shell's 13 minute death-crawl.
Finally, there's Beauty and the Beast. Given that this is a big-budget live-action Disney adaptation of one of the House of Mouse's most beloved animated films, it should, on the face of it, warrant a post of its own, but Disney didn't bother with a new script, so why should I bother with more writing?
This is a film that will live or die based on what its audience is looking for. Those after a (mostly) faithful adaptation of the 90's film will be (mostly) pleased with what they get. Whereas anyone looking for a new take on the classic fairytale, obviously haven't been watching any trailers.
All of the beloved scenes and songs are here, translated to live-action with degrees of success varying from passable, to on-a-par, to genuinely superior. I'm somewhat baffled by the casting of Ewan McGregor as Lumière; one of the few French characters in the film portrayed with a French accent. He's undoubtedly there for his name alone, but he doesn't do a bad job, and his rendition of Be Our Guest - the unequivocal show-piece of both versions - is among the passable. Emma Watson - despite the trailers showing a somewhat pantomime-esque performance - is surprisingly good as Belle, and carries the film well, but the true joys of the whole production are Luke Evans as Gaston and Josh Gad as Lefou.
For starters, their takes on their respective numbers are arguably superior to the animated versions!
Evans' Gaston is everything you want him to be - arrogant, yet oblivious; cocky, yet cowardly; genuinely more intelligent than almost everyone else around him, yet nevertheless an imbecile - and his voice is superb.
Josh Gad's Lefou, however, is everything you didn't know you wanted him to be. At first, he's a slightly more obsessive version of the animated character (and for a very specific, and much publicesed reason), but Gad gives Lefou depth and nuance hitherto unseen in such a character, and with a pay-off at once charming, funny and wholly appropriate.
The film does struggle by comparison to its predecessor - as with Be Our Guest, most of the returning songs aren't quite as strong, there's some exposition thrown in to circumvent some of the prior questions (e.g. why all the servants were also cursed), and the big ballroom scene isn't quite as grand - but where the film falls flattest is in the new it tries to bring to the table: specifically the new songs.
The first isn't so bad - a relatively sweet and inoffensive verse from Belle's father - but there are three more planted throughout the rest of the film, and each is more abysmal than the last. Every one is a bland, sappy, vapid, meaningless excursion that drags the film to a screeching halt, and kills any pacing and atmosphere built to that point. I understand the desire to throw something new in there to differentiate it from the 90's classic, but each effort just demonstrates how much better it could have been without them.
I can't deny it's a good adaptation, and Rhiannon - a life-long fan of the original - was mostly giddy throughout (she agreed regarding the tragedy of the new songs), but other than Evans and Gad, there wasn't enough here to justify the adaptation, and I think it will mostly make people nostalgic for the 'original'.
Wednesday, 15 March 2017
Sometimes at Odds, Sometimes Sympatico
As mentioned last time, I've found writing this thing a tad difficult of late, given everything that's going on in the world, and the dizzying rate the happenings are...happening...
This has included reviewing our past few cinema goings. In the past month, we've seen Lego Batman, John Wick: Chapter 2, Logan and Kong: Skull Island.
In brief:
John Wick Chapter 2 was far less of a surprise, given the quality of its forebear, but there is always the risk of sequelitis, and it can't be denied it did suffer slightly in that regard. But this is not sequelitis in the usual respect of either trying too hard to outdo the original (Mummy Returns; Independence Day Resurgence) or lazily cashing in (The Lost World: Jurassic Park; RED 2; Independence Day Resurgence). The one and only issue with Chapter 2 was the very fact that it was't a surprise. John Wick came out of nowhere, and it was joyous. Chapter 2 lacked that sense of wonder, but was, nevertheless, spectacular.
Logan too wasn't much of a surprise, but given the diminished-with-time quality of much of the X-Men franchise, there was no guarantee the promise of those beautiful trailers was going to pay off with anything more than The Wolverine with a bit more blood and bad language. Fortunately, not only were the shackles of the dreaded PG-13 / 12A certificate removed (though, paradoxically, the sheer volume of 'fucks' early on came across as adolescent), but also any forced franchise ties. While references are made to characters and incidents that have come before, Logan stands very much on its own, creating its own continuity, and playing out more like a western than a super-hero movie.
In fact, as one review pointed out, while this is by some distance the best film to come out of the X-Men franchise, it is not the best X-Men film (that would be First Class). Logan isn't about the X-Men. It isn't even about mutants. It's about an old man looking to escape a troubled past, but being forced to face up to it and find redemption in the form of protecting a (admittedly not exactly helpless) young girl.
A young girl, by the way - and I realise I'm digressing quite substantially at this point, but now that I've started writing about this film and its cast, I just want to gush - who should not be overlooked for a Best Supporting Actress nom next year. My word, Dafne Keen was awesome! Charged with being eerily stoic, feral, savage, innocent, athletic and bi-lingual, while carrying some heavy emotional scenes, all of which she steals from her co-stars, despite them all bringing their A-game: Hugh Jackman's Logan is broken, world-weary, and physically and emotionally vulnerable; Patrick Stewart's Xavier is weak and tired, haunted by tragedies he barely remembers, losing his grip on himself and reality, yet consistently funny, and as fatherly as he ever was; Stephen Merchant's Caliban is a tragic, sarky sage, persistently holding Logan to task - and all of them are struggling to come to terms with their past sins.
Even Boyd Holbrook's Pierce, who could have easily been just another henchman, has enough personality to entertain whenever he's on screen.
But it's the 11 year-old Keen who owns the screen whenever she's on it.
All three of these films have enjoyed varying degrees of universal praise, as has - to my slight surprise - Skull Island.
I expected to love Skull Island. I'm a sucker for a creature feature, regardless of the quality, and will even admit to being a fan of Cloverfield, Roland Emmerich's Godzilla and Peter Jackson's King Kong (the more recent Godzilla had a spectacular climax, but was otherwise a tedious slog of dull human characters, and frustrating teases of monster-on-monster action). I'm not saying these films are good, necessarily, but I found each of them entertaining in their own way.
And every critic I follow appears to have a similar opinion of Skull Island. Yes it's silly, yes the characters are a bunch of 2-dimensional archetypes, and yes, the plot's thinner than American beer in a cheap pub, but when 75% of the film is monsters eating people, then being stomped by a giant monkey, who cares?
Well, for some unfathomable reason, I do. Maybe it was because I expected more - possibly too much - of a new King Kong, made with new technology, and featuring the likes of Tom Hiddleston, Samuel L. Jackson and John Goodman, or maybe it was just a little too slick, lacking the goofiness of earlier creature features that helped audiences look passed the flaws.
Whatever the reason, I had this unshakable sense of detachment throughout. It all starts promisingly enough, with Goodman's obsessive scientist desperate for government backing, the introduction of Hiddleston as a grizzled badass, and a disheartened Jackson leading an eclectic army unit coming to the end of its tour in Vietnam. Even Brie Larsson's plucky journalist has some intriguing savvy about her.
In fact - and completely at odds with the usual nature of the genre - all was going well, right up until the monkey showed up. While I appreciate the lack of fumbling about with character development before getting to the good stuff, and Kong's unexpectedly blunt reveal and subsequent battle is fantastic, once the players are on the titular island, the characters are immediately reduced to type, and become background noise between the fights.
The biggest criticism levied at Peter Jackson's King Kong was it was far too slow, but while I can appreciate that - and can't deny it had some pacing issues - I was personally drawn in by the 1920s setting, Jackson's heart-on-his-sleeve style, and the eclectic cast of characters. Plus, the extended edition featured a lot more monsters-eating-extras goodness in the build-up (and no extended anything else).
John C. Reilly does show up in Skull Island as the one interesting character amidst the post-monkey blandness, and Hiddleston does get a damn fine set-piece against a bunch of mini pterodactyl thingies, but every set-piece comes so thick and fast, interspersed with standard action-shots of the cast posing against the carnage, that it wound up feeling more like an overblown music video than an epic action film.
It was the exact opposite of Gareth Edwards' Godzilla: while that was trying too hard for emotional depth, tense pacing and thought-provoking plot - failing at all three and boring us silly in the process - Skull Island abandoned all that after 10 minutes for a few rounds of King of Monsters without the interactivity.
I wouldn't say Skull Island was as bad Independence Day Regurgitation, and I can't deny there was a lot that I should have loved about it - and plenty of others did love about it - but I just couldn't suspend my disbelief far enough to enjoy any of it.
This has included reviewing our past few cinema goings. In the past month, we've seen Lego Batman, John Wick: Chapter 2, Logan and Kong: Skull Island.
In brief:
- Great
- Spectacular
- Tremendous
- Terrible
John Wick Chapter 2 was far less of a surprise, given the quality of its forebear, but there is always the risk of sequelitis, and it can't be denied it did suffer slightly in that regard. But this is not sequelitis in the usual respect of either trying too hard to outdo the original (Mummy Returns; Independence Day Resurgence) or lazily cashing in (The Lost World: Jurassic Park; RED 2; Independence Day Resurgence). The one and only issue with Chapter 2 was the very fact that it was't a surprise. John Wick came out of nowhere, and it was joyous. Chapter 2 lacked that sense of wonder, but was, nevertheless, spectacular.
Logan too wasn't much of a surprise, but given the diminished-with-time quality of much of the X-Men franchise, there was no guarantee the promise of those beautiful trailers was going to pay off with anything more than The Wolverine with a bit more blood and bad language. Fortunately, not only were the shackles of the dreaded PG-13 / 12A certificate removed (though, paradoxically, the sheer volume of 'fucks' early on came across as adolescent), but also any forced franchise ties. While references are made to characters and incidents that have come before, Logan stands very much on its own, creating its own continuity, and playing out more like a western than a super-hero movie.
In fact, as one review pointed out, while this is by some distance the best film to come out of the X-Men franchise, it is not the best X-Men film (that would be First Class). Logan isn't about the X-Men. It isn't even about mutants. It's about an old man looking to escape a troubled past, but being forced to face up to it and find redemption in the form of protecting a (admittedly not exactly helpless) young girl.
A young girl, by the way - and I realise I'm digressing quite substantially at this point, but now that I've started writing about this film and its cast, I just want to gush - who should not be overlooked for a Best Supporting Actress nom next year. My word, Dafne Keen was awesome! Charged with being eerily stoic, feral, savage, innocent, athletic and bi-lingual, while carrying some heavy emotional scenes, all of which she steals from her co-stars, despite them all bringing their A-game: Hugh Jackman's Logan is broken, world-weary, and physically and emotionally vulnerable; Patrick Stewart's Xavier is weak and tired, haunted by tragedies he barely remembers, losing his grip on himself and reality, yet consistently funny, and as fatherly as he ever was; Stephen Merchant's Caliban is a tragic, sarky sage, persistently holding Logan to task - and all of them are struggling to come to terms with their past sins.
Even Boyd Holbrook's Pierce, who could have easily been just another henchman, has enough personality to entertain whenever he's on screen.
But it's the 11 year-old Keen who owns the screen whenever she's on it.
All three of these films have enjoyed varying degrees of universal praise, as has - to my slight surprise - Skull Island.
I expected to love Skull Island. I'm a sucker for a creature feature, regardless of the quality, and will even admit to being a fan of Cloverfield, Roland Emmerich's Godzilla and Peter Jackson's King Kong (the more recent Godzilla had a spectacular climax, but was otherwise a tedious slog of dull human characters, and frustrating teases of monster-on-monster action). I'm not saying these films are good, necessarily, but I found each of them entertaining in their own way.
And every critic I follow appears to have a similar opinion of Skull Island. Yes it's silly, yes the characters are a bunch of 2-dimensional archetypes, and yes, the plot's thinner than American beer in a cheap pub, but when 75% of the film is monsters eating people, then being stomped by a giant monkey, who cares?
Well, for some unfathomable reason, I do. Maybe it was because I expected more - possibly too much - of a new King Kong, made with new technology, and featuring the likes of Tom Hiddleston, Samuel L. Jackson and John Goodman, or maybe it was just a little too slick, lacking the goofiness of earlier creature features that helped audiences look passed the flaws.
Whatever the reason, I had this unshakable sense of detachment throughout. It all starts promisingly enough, with Goodman's obsessive scientist desperate for government backing, the introduction of Hiddleston as a grizzled badass, and a disheartened Jackson leading an eclectic army unit coming to the end of its tour in Vietnam. Even Brie Larsson's plucky journalist has some intriguing savvy about her.
In fact - and completely at odds with the usual nature of the genre - all was going well, right up until the monkey showed up. While I appreciate the lack of fumbling about with character development before getting to the good stuff, and Kong's unexpectedly blunt reveal and subsequent battle is fantastic, once the players are on the titular island, the characters are immediately reduced to type, and become background noise between the fights.
The biggest criticism levied at Peter Jackson's King Kong was it was far too slow, but while I can appreciate that - and can't deny it had some pacing issues - I was personally drawn in by the 1920s setting, Jackson's heart-on-his-sleeve style, and the eclectic cast of characters. Plus, the extended edition featured a lot more monsters-eating-extras goodness in the build-up (and no extended anything else).
John C. Reilly does show up in Skull Island as the one interesting character amidst the post-monkey blandness, and Hiddleston does get a damn fine set-piece against a bunch of mini pterodactyl thingies, but every set-piece comes so thick and fast, interspersed with standard action-shots of the cast posing against the carnage, that it wound up feeling more like an overblown music video than an epic action film.
It was the exact opposite of Gareth Edwards' Godzilla: while that was trying too hard for emotional depth, tense pacing and thought-provoking plot - failing at all three and boring us silly in the process - Skull Island abandoned all that after 10 minutes for a few rounds of King of Monsters without the interactivity.
I wouldn't say Skull Island was as bad Independence Day Regurgitation, and I can't deny there was a lot that I should have loved about it - and plenty of others did love about it - but I just couldn't suspend my disbelief far enough to enjoy any of it.
Wednesday, 15 February 2017
Orange is the New White (Supremacist)
It has been a struggle writing this entry, not just because every other day has brought fresh insanity from Trump and his team of twisted, totalitarian turd wombles, currently driving the US headlong towards the 19th century, but also because that is just one branch of the ugly tree slapping our species around the face as we tumble towards its roots.
Whether it be extremists in the East butchering their fellow man and kidnapping children to sell as sex slaves, or wealthy scumbags in the West praying on the ignorance and fears of the unwashed masses to secure themselves a bit more power and a lot more cash, at the expense of the very people raising them to their thrones, it's all too easy to look at the current state of the world and despair.
The Trump age of Twattishness began before he'd even taken office, as he seemed to be back-tracking on a number of pre-election promises regarding the arrest of Hilary Clinton, the abolition of the Affordable Care Act - or 'Obamacare', for those seemingly unaware they're the same thing - his totally-not-a-Muslim-ban and his border wall. While this apparent softening was reassuring to those panicked by his impending presidency, it did not sit well with the Kla- sorry, clans of ignorant hick halfwits who'd voted for him on the back of those pledges.
But fear not, blinkered bigots of backwater America! No sooner was his little hand off the Bible than it was clamped to the pussy of Lady Liberty, as he spewed forth such isolationist rhetoric that had not been heard since a greasy little mono-bollocked Charlie Chaplin impersonator had waxed lyrical on the benefits of inbreeding.
And then, without even pausing for the weekend, he was off with his pen, scrawling over hastily compiled, clumsily written, insulting, ill-thought-out and downright childish literature, like Stephanie Meyer at a book signing.
Yes, all that hateful crap he said he'd do, then sorta acted like maybe he'd put a bit more thought into, he went ahead and did anyway.
Except for the Hilary thing, of course. Pre-election, Trump's idea of high treason was using an unsecured email account. Post-election, it's questioning the legality and constitutionality of a targeted immigration ban.
See? Totally not a Muslim ban!
The big overarching reason behind all of this nonsense appears to be his chosen sources of information, but that in itself brings up a question: does Trump genuinely believe this crap (as his ever-more beleaguered press secretary suggests), or is he looking to those for excuses for everything he's doing?
Part of me wishes it was the latter because, whatever his endgame is - how ever nefarious and self-serving - at least he'd be in some kind of control.
Unfortunately, I suspect the former is far more likely: that the President of the United States is an ignorant, unstable, small-minded halfwit believing everything Steven Bannon whispers in his ear between thrusts.
Meanwhile, a few miles due east, our own woefully under-qualified and un-democratically elected head of government was continuing the age-old tradition of the Tory leader skirting difficult questions by repeating the same empty, noncommittal rhetoric until the questioner gets bored and moves on.
In her defence, her focus was possibly elsewhere; most likely thinking of ways to suck up to little Donald while subtly staying out of groping range.
Her visit was as wretched as anyone could have predicted, with her not only avoiding any topic of conversation that might ruffle his hairpiece, but slavering over him like a cheerleader over a quarterback.
However, while May was keen to avoid any mention of immigration or torture (probably because they're not entirely at odds (at least when it come to the former)), the Beeb's Laura Kuenssberg was not so reticent.
Compare May's grovelling, too, to the responses of Angela Merkel, François Hollande and a number of other EU leaders, as well as Chinese State Media and even the Speaker of the House of Commons, and I'm left wondering - as I have before - is this really the best we can do?
A spineless, witless, clueless, feckless, directionless, blithering, flapping, vapid, hypocritical cretin on one side of the Atlantic, and a weak-willed, thin-skinned, perverted, angry, disrespectful, petty, greedy, small-minded, homophobic, xenophobic, misogynistic, hypocritical, cheap-wigged varnished turd on the other?
Xi Jinping must be laughing his knackers off at two of the biggest economies in the western hemisphere being led by a pair with less combined human worth than the stuff the slime at the bottom of the barrel scrapes off its brogues.
Sadly, when one looks at the opposition, the answer appears to be 'yes'.
When the Shadow Cabinet quit in protest at Jeremy Corbyn's leadership, I thought it was not only a pathetic and desperate ploy by a bunch of Blairites to return the party to the ideals of 10 years ago (that have seen them pummelled in two General Elections), but a disgusting betrayal of both their supporters who'd overwhelmingly put Corbyn there in the first place, and the British people as a whole by crippling any opposition to the government when we needed it most.
This time, however, I believe Corbyn is the one on the wrong side of the fence. Despite the government's repeated claims that they're exercising the 'will of the people', who voted with their 'eyes wide open', the Leave campaign won by the narrowest of margins on the back of a torrent of lies. How many now lament their vote (or lack thereof)?
Forcing your MPs to vote a certain way for fear of looking out of touch, or upsetting your base, is pathetic, divisive and destructive, and very much not the will of the people.
Not to mention pointless. Despite all the talk of blocks and oversight and amendments, and after a fight in the courts to give Parliament a say on the bill, it was passed without a single change, opening the door for May to handle Brexit how ever she sees fit.
Good job, Jezza.
So where do we turn in this time of political strife, when the leaders of two of the most significant powers in the western world are as beneficial as diarrhoea at rush-hour? Many look to this handsome devil:
And it's easy to see why: he's young, handsome and erudite; an advocate for women's and LGBTQ rights; outspoken on environmental issues and those affecting indigenous people...
Right?
Well, about that... Prime Minister Justin Trudeau Makes Major Decisions for Canadian Pipeline Approvals
But let's look on the bright side...
Um...
Ooh! The Lego Batman Movie was good!
Whether it be extremists in the East butchering their fellow man and kidnapping children to sell as sex slaves, or wealthy scumbags in the West praying on the ignorance and fears of the unwashed masses to secure themselves a bit more power and a lot more cash, at the expense of the very people raising them to their thrones, it's all too easy to look at the current state of the world and despair.
The Trump age of Twattishness began before he'd even taken office, as he seemed to be back-tracking on a number of pre-election promises regarding the arrest of Hilary Clinton, the abolition of the Affordable Care Act - or 'Obamacare', for those seemingly unaware they're the same thing - his totally-not-a-Muslim-ban and his border wall. While this apparent softening was reassuring to those panicked by his impending presidency, it did not sit well with the Kla- sorry, clans of ignorant hick halfwits who'd voted for him on the back of those pledges.
But fear not, blinkered bigots of backwater America! No sooner was his little hand off the Bible than it was clamped to the pussy of Lady Liberty, as he spewed forth such isolationist rhetoric that had not been heard since a greasy little mono-bollocked Charlie Chaplin impersonator had waxed lyrical on the benefits of inbreeding.
And then, without even pausing for the weekend, he was off with his pen, scrawling over hastily compiled, clumsily written, insulting, ill-thought-out and downright childish literature, like Stephanie Meyer at a book signing.
Yes, all that hateful crap he said he'd do, then sorta acted like maybe he'd put a bit more thought into, he went ahead and did anyway.
Except for the Hilary thing, of course. Pre-election, Trump's idea of high treason was using an unsecured email account. Post-election, it's questioning the legality and constitutionality of a targeted immigration ban.
Not that it is a Muslim ban!
All it is is a temporary restriction on people from certain (predominantly Muslim) countries
(that Trump doesn't have business investments in), with a...softer focus on those who are...
not of those countries' predominant (Muslim) faith...
The big overarching reason behind all of this nonsense appears to be his chosen sources of information, but that in itself brings up a question: does Trump genuinely believe this crap (as his ever-more beleaguered press secretary suggests), or is he looking to those for excuses for everything he's doing?
Part of me wishes it was the latter because, whatever his endgame is - how ever nefarious and self-serving - at least he'd be in some kind of control.
Unfortunately, I suspect the former is far more likely: that the President of the United States is an ignorant, unstable, small-minded halfwit believing everything Steven Bannon whispers in his ear between thrusts.
Meanwhile, a few miles due east, our own woefully under-qualified and un-democratically elected head of government was continuing the age-old tradition of the Tory leader skirting difficult questions by repeating the same empty, noncommittal rhetoric until the questioner gets bored and moves on.
In her defence, her focus was possibly elsewhere; most likely thinking of ways to suck up to little Donald while subtly staying out of groping range.
Her visit was as wretched as anyone could have predicted, with her not only avoiding any topic of conversation that might ruffle his hairpiece, but slavering over him like a cheerleader over a quarterback.
However, while May was keen to avoid any mention of immigration or torture (probably because they're not entirely at odds (at least when it come to the former)), the Beeb's Laura Kuenssberg was not so reticent.
Compare May's grovelling, too, to the responses of Angela Merkel, François Hollande and a number of other EU leaders, as well as Chinese State Media and even the Speaker of the House of Commons, and I'm left wondering - as I have before - is this really the best we can do?
A spineless, witless, clueless, feckless, directionless, blithering, flapping, vapid, hypocritical cretin on one side of the Atlantic, and a weak-willed, thin-skinned, perverted, angry, disrespectful, petty, greedy, small-minded, homophobic, xenophobic, misogynistic, hypocritical, cheap-wigged varnished turd on the other?
Xi Jinping must be laughing his knackers off at two of the biggest economies in the western hemisphere being led by a pair with less combined human worth than the stuff the slime at the bottom of the barrel scrapes off its brogues.
Sadly, when one looks at the opposition, the answer appears to be 'yes'.
When the Shadow Cabinet quit in protest at Jeremy Corbyn's leadership, I thought it was not only a pathetic and desperate ploy by a bunch of Blairites to return the party to the ideals of 10 years ago (that have seen them pummelled in two General Elections), but a disgusting betrayal of both their supporters who'd overwhelmingly put Corbyn there in the first place, and the British people as a whole by crippling any opposition to the government when we needed it most.
This time, however, I believe Corbyn is the one on the wrong side of the fence. Despite the government's repeated claims that they're exercising the 'will of the people', who voted with their 'eyes wide open', the Leave campaign won by the narrowest of margins on the back of a torrent of lies. How many now lament their vote (or lack thereof)?
Forcing your MPs to vote a certain way for fear of looking out of touch, or upsetting your base, is pathetic, divisive and destructive, and very much not the will of the people.
Not to mention pointless. Despite all the talk of blocks and oversight and amendments, and after a fight in the courts to give Parliament a say on the bill, it was passed without a single change, opening the door for May to handle Brexit how ever she sees fit.
Good job, Jezza.
So where do we turn in this time of political strife, when the leaders of two of the most significant powers in the western world are as beneficial as diarrhoea at rush-hour? Many look to this handsome devil:
The one on the left
And it's easy to see why: he's young, handsome and erudite; an advocate for women's and LGBTQ rights; outspoken on environmental issues and those affecting indigenous people...
Right?
Well, about that... Prime Minister Justin Trudeau Makes Major Decisions for Canadian Pipeline Approvals
But let's look on the bright side...
Um...
Ooh! The Lego Batman Movie was good!
Tuesday, 27 December 2016
RIP Carrie Fisher
I've always had a thing for heroines. When I was growing up, male heroes were everywhere: He-Man, Action Man, Transformers, Star Wars, Superman. Every franchise was built around its male heroes.
As a result, the heroes of every franchise bored the piss out of me. They were great for what they were, and made for some awesome toys and occasionally aspirational figures, but I found them all narratively tedious.
I was instead fascinated by the female equivalents / members of the male-dominated teams: She-Ra, Arcee, Supergirl, Cheetara. And that was all before I was old enough to see them as anything other than arse-kicking heroes.
Nor was this strictly down to their rarity: female-led stories have always had something more to them. While Hercules was about some noble buff dude punch bad-guys and throwing them around like unconvincing rag-dolls, Xena was about a violent warrior maiden looking to atone, and taking on a sidekick who represented those she was desperate to view her in a different light.
I have never been so eager to read a comic as when I first discovered X-23. And they all do pretty much the same thing, but just look at how a-typical Van Helsing or the Beaumont boys are compared to the complexity of Buffy.
And this love of the heroine can be traced right back to Princess Leia. A supposed damsel-in-distress, the first thing she does when being 'rescued' is insult one of her assumed captors, take the piss out of her "heroes'" poor excuse for a plan, then save them all herself, while proving a better shot than the experienced smuggler, the child of prophecy, and an entire battalion of empirical troopers.
Think about that: the Empire tortures her to discover the location of the rebels' base, and she resists; they threaten her entire planet, and she sends them to the wrong location; she sees her entire planet - including her mother and father - blown to smithereens, and the moment a pair of blundering wannbes get her out of her cell, she assumes command, questions one's ability to look after himself, and casually refers to a 7ft roaring beast with a high-powered crossbow as a 'walking carpet'.
One of her heroes sees his mentor - an old hermit he was casually acquainted with - sacrifice himself, and despite all Leia's been through, *she's* the one comforting *him*! When she should have been: "Bitch, I've just lost my family, my people and my entire fucking planet! Grow a pair and go shoot some Tie Fighters!"
She outwits the Empire's highest ranks, and without pausing for a much-deserved nap after all she's already been through, she takes command of the rebellion and helps lead them to a decisive victory.
AND THAT'S JUST IN THE FIRST FILM!
By the time of episode VII, her son's turned to the dark side, her husband's pissed off to look for his ship, her brother - the JEDI MASTER - has disappeared because it's all too much to handle, and she's COMMANDING A NEW REBELLION AGAINST AN ORDER ARISEN FROM THE FALLEN EMPIRE, LED BY HER OWN HOMICIDAL OFFSPRING!
And only someone like Carrie Fisher could have brought that to life. Only someone with that vivacity, that self-assurance, that strength and certainty of character.
Though to define her by that character is to undermine who she really was: an author; an activist; a paragon for equality. She was the go-to script-doctor for many of Hollywood's big-name screenwriters. She was an avatar for facing and owning one's emotional demons and sexual identity, and for not being defined by any of it.
Carrie Fisher was a true great of Hollywood and beyond, and a sad loss to us all.
As a result, the heroes of every franchise bored the piss out of me. They were great for what they were, and made for some awesome toys and occasionally aspirational figures, but I found them all narratively tedious.
I was instead fascinated by the female equivalents / members of the male-dominated teams: She-Ra, Arcee, Supergirl, Cheetara. And that was all before I was old enough to see them as anything other than arse-kicking heroes.
Nor was this strictly down to their rarity: female-led stories have always had something more to them. While Hercules was about some noble buff dude punch bad-guys and throwing them around like unconvincing rag-dolls, Xena was about a violent warrior maiden looking to atone, and taking on a sidekick who represented those she was desperate to view her in a different light.
I have never been so eager to read a comic as when I first discovered X-23. And they all do pretty much the same thing, but just look at how a-typical Van Helsing or the Beaumont boys are compared to the complexity of Buffy.
And this love of the heroine can be traced right back to Princess Leia. A supposed damsel-in-distress, the first thing she does when being 'rescued' is insult one of her assumed captors, take the piss out of her "heroes'" poor excuse for a plan, then save them all herself, while proving a better shot than the experienced smuggler, the child of prophecy, and an entire battalion of empirical troopers.
Think about that: the Empire tortures her to discover the location of the rebels' base, and she resists; they threaten her entire planet, and she sends them to the wrong location; she sees her entire planet - including her mother and father - blown to smithereens, and the moment a pair of blundering wannbes get her out of her cell, she assumes command, questions one's ability to look after himself, and casually refers to a 7ft roaring beast with a high-powered crossbow as a 'walking carpet'.
One of her heroes sees his mentor - an old hermit he was casually acquainted with - sacrifice himself, and despite all Leia's been through, *she's* the one comforting *him*! When she should have been: "Bitch, I've just lost my family, my people and my entire fucking planet! Grow a pair and go shoot some Tie Fighters!"
She outwits the Empire's highest ranks, and without pausing for a much-deserved nap after all she's already been through, she takes command of the rebellion and helps lead them to a decisive victory.
AND THAT'S JUST IN THE FIRST FILM!
By the time of episode VII, her son's turned to the dark side, her husband's pissed off to look for his ship, her brother - the JEDI MASTER - has disappeared because it's all too much to handle, and she's COMMANDING A NEW REBELLION AGAINST AN ORDER ARISEN FROM THE FALLEN EMPIRE, LED BY HER OWN HOMICIDAL OFFSPRING!
And only someone like Carrie Fisher could have brought that to life. Only someone with that vivacity, that self-assurance, that strength and certainty of character.
Though to define her by that character is to undermine who she really was: an author; an activist; a paragon for equality. She was the go-to script-doctor for many of Hollywood's big-name screenwriters. She was an avatar for facing and owning one's emotional demons and sexual identity, and for not being defined by any of it.
Carrie Fisher was a true great of Hollywood and beyond, and a sad loss to us all.
Saturday, 17 December 2016
That's no Mufasa
For me, one of the most surprising things about Rogue One: A Star Wars Story - which fills the gap between Episodes III and IV - is that there is so much to spoil, so I will say right off the bat that there will be none of those shenanigans going on here (those who spoil should have their fingers removed and mouths sewn shut).
Another big surprise was how both like and unlike Star Wars it felt. There's no bombastic John Williams opener, no scrolling text, and barely a Jedi in sight. This is not a hero's journey from simple every-man ignorant of his destiny, to kick-arse battle-mage saving the galaxy: it's a far more intimate tale about a plucky band of rebels coming together and risking it all for what they know is right.
And, sweet salivating monkey-nuts, does that allow it to bring the feels.
Star Wars has always had its moments in that regard, but because everything's so big, and the characters, while not simply 2-dimensional caricatures (in IV-VII at least), are nevertheless broad (gung-ho rogue; boisterous princess; farm-boy with a dream and a destiny), it's difficult to relate to everything on a personal level.
In Rogue One, the characters feel more grounded; more real. When they laugh and cry and throw a tantrum, it has significance because the reasons for those reactions are often personal to the characters, rather than funny thing was said so everyone laughs, or bad thing happens so everyone cries.
Even the main bad-guy has nuance. Not that he ever waivers in his convictions, but unlike Tarkin or Palpatine, he does show fear and uncertainty - even desperation - as well as an arrogant wit.
Paradoxically, however, the main issues I have with the film also stem from the characters. This being a stand-alone with an ensemble cast of newbies to the series, certain things feel rushed or underdeveloped. Why was that person a prisoner? How did these two meet? Why's he such a mess? Every one has a history that is only hinted at, and it makes me wish that, rather than a single film, the studio had followed through on that long-promised live-action TV show, with this as the template.
Fortunately, the performances are strong enough that, even without their histories being fleshed out, the characters are still well-rounded and interesting; the stand-outs being Alan Tudyk's K-2 - a hilariously sociopathic droid - and Donnie Yen's Chirrut Îmwe - an admittedly clichéd, but still awesome wise old blind badass, with a lighthearted humour I wouldn't have expected from the usually stoic Yen.
If there's one weakness - and I can't believe I'm saying this - it's James Earl Jones. It's no secret that Darth Vader makes an appearance, but the appearance he makes is...weird. The voice sounds like an impersonator trying too hard, the suit looks ill-fitting - as if made by a cosplayer in a hurry - and the physical performance is far too fluid, lacking David Prowse's almost robotic steadiness and menace. Even the CGI face-mapping of certain characters is more convincing.
And he makes a pun! What in the name of holy smegma is Darth Vader doing making a pun?!
He does get a little redemption later on, but his main scene is an awkward one that simply does not work.
Of course, this being a Star Wars film, we're not just here for strong characters in a great story, and when it comes to outer space shooty epicness and Storm Troopers being used as cross-eyed cannon-fodder, Rogue One delivers in spades, with a particular moment with a pair of Star Destroyers being up there among the entire saga's all-time greats. Gareth Edwards may have bored us all gormless with Godzilla, but he did at least prove that he could do grand-scale action when (finally) called upon to do so, and that eye for the epic set-piece is exercised with aplomb against the backdrop of space.
In terms of where the film as a whole stands within the Star Wars ranks, I find that difficult to gauge. As I said, this is a different type of film to the main saga, and it's fitting that it's titled A Star Wars Story rather than Star Wars episode III.V. And I also hesitate to rank it along side Empire Strikes Back as others have done, as I don't see this achieving that level of classic status; nor did it enjoy so many iconic, unforgettable moments. That said, it is certainly on a par with The Force Awakens in terms being both new and feeling like a strong continuation of the saga. It too outshines the prequels on every level (including its continuity), and would make a fitting start to any Star Wars marathon.
**UPDATE**
I follow a lot of reviewers with diverse opinions, and no film has shown that more than Rogue One; and in a surprising way. Those I'd expect to love it were underwhelmed (one downright devastated), and others I'd expect to be more critical have actually found far more to love.
Because of the way this film is put together, and its story is told, it lives and dies by its characters: those who were put off by the thinness of their backstories, or found them dull or one-note, seem to have been bored by the film as a whole, while others (like me) who could look past the admittedly thin back-stories, and could engage with the characters through the actors' performances (which I personally found universally fantastic (Donnie Yen especially)) loved the film, sometime to a near-Empire-Strikes-Back degree.
The opening act is rushed, every character could have done with more fleshing out (I still feel like this would have made a better mini-series than a film), and that first Darth Vader scene was terrible, but I love the cast, I love the story, the action was phenomenal and the climax had me physically shaking.
Another big surprise was how both like and unlike Star Wars it felt. There's no bombastic John Williams opener, no scrolling text, and barely a Jedi in sight. This is not a hero's journey from simple every-man ignorant of his destiny, to kick-arse battle-mage saving the galaxy: it's a far more intimate tale about a plucky band of rebels coming together and risking it all for what they know is right.
And, sweet salivating monkey-nuts, does that allow it to bring the feels.
Star Wars has always had its moments in that regard, but because everything's so big, and the characters, while not simply 2-dimensional caricatures (in IV-VII at least), are nevertheless broad (gung-ho rogue; boisterous princess; farm-boy with a dream and a destiny), it's difficult to relate to everything on a personal level.
In Rogue One, the characters feel more grounded; more real. When they laugh and cry and throw a tantrum, it has significance because the reasons for those reactions are often personal to the characters, rather than funny thing was said so everyone laughs, or bad thing happens so everyone cries.
Even the main bad-guy has nuance. Not that he ever waivers in his convictions, but unlike Tarkin or Palpatine, he does show fear and uncertainty - even desperation - as well as an arrogant wit.
Paradoxically, however, the main issues I have with the film also stem from the characters. This being a stand-alone with an ensemble cast of newbies to the series, certain things feel rushed or underdeveloped. Why was that person a prisoner? How did these two meet? Why's he such a mess? Every one has a history that is only hinted at, and it makes me wish that, rather than a single film, the studio had followed through on that long-promised live-action TV show, with this as the template.
Fortunately, the performances are strong enough that, even without their histories being fleshed out, the characters are still well-rounded and interesting; the stand-outs being Alan Tudyk's K-2 - a hilariously sociopathic droid - and Donnie Yen's Chirrut Îmwe - an admittedly clichéd, but still awesome wise old blind badass, with a lighthearted humour I wouldn't have expected from the usually stoic Yen.
If there's one weakness - and I can't believe I'm saying this - it's James Earl Jones. It's no secret that Darth Vader makes an appearance, but the appearance he makes is...weird. The voice sounds like an impersonator trying too hard, the suit looks ill-fitting - as if made by a cosplayer in a hurry - and the physical performance is far too fluid, lacking David Prowse's almost robotic steadiness and menace. Even the CGI face-mapping of certain characters is more convincing.
And he makes a pun! What in the name of holy smegma is Darth Vader doing making a pun?!
He does get a little redemption later on, but his main scene is an awkward one that simply does not work.
Of course, this being a Star Wars film, we're not just here for strong characters in a great story, and when it comes to outer space shooty epicness and Storm Troopers being used as cross-eyed cannon-fodder, Rogue One delivers in spades, with a particular moment with a pair of Star Destroyers being up there among the entire saga's all-time greats. Gareth Edwards may have bored us all gormless with Godzilla, but he did at least prove that he could do grand-scale action when (finally) called upon to do so, and that eye for the epic set-piece is exercised with aplomb against the backdrop of space.
Quick side note: due to issues with Cineworld's projector, I got to see this
in IMAX 2D, which was awesome!
In terms of where the film as a whole stands within the Star Wars ranks, I find that difficult to gauge. As I said, this is a different type of film to the main saga, and it's fitting that it's titled A Star Wars Story rather than Star Wars episode III.V. And I also hesitate to rank it along side Empire Strikes Back as others have done, as I don't see this achieving that level of classic status; nor did it enjoy so many iconic, unforgettable moments. That said, it is certainly on a par with The Force Awakens in terms being both new and feeling like a strong continuation of the saga. It too outshines the prequels on every level (including its continuity), and would make a fitting start to any Star Wars marathon.
**UPDATE**
I follow a lot of reviewers with diverse opinions, and no film has shown that more than Rogue One; and in a surprising way. Those I'd expect to love it were underwhelmed (one downright devastated), and others I'd expect to be more critical have actually found far more to love.
Because of the way this film is put together, and its story is told, it lives and dies by its characters: those who were put off by the thinness of their backstories, or found them dull or one-note, seem to have been bored by the film as a whole, while others (like me) who could look past the admittedly thin back-stories, and could engage with the characters through the actors' performances (which I personally found universally fantastic (Donnie Yen especially)) loved the film, sometime to a near-Empire-Strikes-Back degree.
The opening act is rushed, every character could have done with more fleshing out (I still feel like this would have made a better mini-series than a film), and that first Darth Vader scene was terrible, but I love the cast, I love the story, the action was phenomenal and the climax had me physically shaking.
Tuesday, 8 November 2016
Feverishly Elective: US Edition
Hoist the bunting, pop the champers and crank up Kool and the Gang: the US election is finally coming to an end!
And what a tragic indictment it has been of what US politics has become.
I've mostly avoided writing about his election because, really, what's to say? Clinton is your typical Wall Street shill, as entrenched in the politics of greed as anyone else in Washington, but at least she's not Donald-Smegging-Trump!
Trump is not only every bit the typical Wall Street shill Hillary is, despite protests to the contrary (how else is he going to hold on to what little fortune he has left?), he's a sad, thin-skinned, neurotic, spineless, witless, crooked, cowardly, racist, misogynist hypocrite, who has survived his myriad failed business ventures through tax evasion and his sole talent of selling his own name.
And that's really all there is to it: one candidate who isn't great, and one candidate so pathetic, his own party have abandoned him.
So how has this even become a race?
Many have been citing what happened in the summer with the Brexit vote, suggesting people are voting against the status quo because of how ineffectual and unrepresentative it has become. 'Business as usual' hasn't been working for a while, so regardless of what the anti-establishment vote is, at least it's anti-establishment.
Unfortunately, much like the Brexit vote, this misguided 'protest' hurts only those already let down by the establishment. Okay, Brexit got rid of Cameron and Osborne, but their legacy is being carried on by their like-minded peers, and the only change on the horizon is that lot gaining unfettered control of our rights, while having to think up new ways of directing funds into the pockets of them and theirs.
By the same token, Trump in the White House is going to in no way upset the status quo. Perhaps if he had any savvy about him, he could enact some genuine change (though the change he'd enact is, in itself, a troubling prospect), but the reality is he's nothing but a spoiled, petulant child, wanting a go at being the big boss. Handing him the presidency would be equivalent to handing him a toy phone and telling him the cow, sheep and chicken at the other end are Congress, Fox News and the Pentagon.
"When cow says 'moo', you've enacted a bill! Isn't little Trumpy-wumpy clever?"
Meanwhile, the Republicans in office can finally do whatever they like without the president keeping their scumbaggery in check.
Make no mistake, how ever many Republicans have come out against the hamster-haired tangerine, you'll see few willing to vote against him. They'll call him a disgrace, and unrepresentative of the party, but at the end of the day, they'd rather be answering to a weak-willed ignoramus, mistaking their empty platitudes for loyalty, than one of their opposite number seeing through every vapid grin, and kicking them in the nuts till they do as they're told.
And so they trot out the usual batch of braggarts, buffoons and blustering cretins, whose political careers are long-past ruining, to mindlessly defend every moronic soundbite he comes out with, while the rest can try to claim the 'Country Before Party' moral high-ground in an attempt to save their own seat, while secretly hoping the majority of voters really are that gullible.
The sad thing is, Trump really was one of the best candidates the Republicans put forward. Chris Christie is a fat, simpering nobody, so lacking in self-worth and future prospects, he was the ideal first sacrifice to be thrown on the Trump dumpster fire. Debating Hillary, Marco Rubio would've come across as a scared little boy getting a spanking form mother. Ben Carson is so befuddled and out-of-touch, he'll be in a nursing home by this time next year, trying to rally the political support of his apple purée. The majority of Ted Cruz's supporters would think today better spent in church, praying to God for the win, rather than actually voting. And by the time of the third primary debate, the rest had already become 'the rest'.
Ironically, much like Ron Paul before him, the only candidate who'd have stood any chance of drawing some liberal support away from the Democrats, and making this a fight of principals and policies, rather than personalities, was John Kasich; the one candidate too sensible for the party base to ever accept.
Despite fears of Trump bringing the apocalypse down upon us all, I see very little being changed by this election. This time tomorrow, the US will prove to be either not quite as stupid as we thought they were, or that mentally-deficient little nation that was big in the '80s, but now spends its time getting fat, ranting about greatness and shouting at a wall.
And what a tragic indictment it has been of what US politics has become.
I've mostly avoided writing about his election because, really, what's to say? Clinton is your typical Wall Street shill, as entrenched in the politics of greed as anyone else in Washington, but at least she's not Donald-Smegging-Trump!
Trump is not only every bit the typical Wall Street shill Hillary is, despite protests to the contrary (how else is he going to hold on to what little fortune he has left?), he's a sad, thin-skinned, neurotic, spineless, witless, crooked, cowardly, racist, misogynist hypocrite, who has survived his myriad failed business ventures through tax evasion and his sole talent of selling his own name.
And that's really all there is to it: one candidate who isn't great, and one candidate so pathetic, his own party have abandoned him.
So how has this even become a race?
Many have been citing what happened in the summer with the Brexit vote, suggesting people are voting against the status quo because of how ineffectual and unrepresentative it has become. 'Business as usual' hasn't been working for a while, so regardless of what the anti-establishment vote is, at least it's anti-establishment.
Unfortunately, much like the Brexit vote, this misguided 'protest' hurts only those already let down by the establishment. Okay, Brexit got rid of Cameron and Osborne, but their legacy is being carried on by their like-minded peers, and the only change on the horizon is that lot gaining unfettered control of our rights, while having to think up new ways of directing funds into the pockets of them and theirs.
By the same token, Trump in the White House is going to in no way upset the status quo. Perhaps if he had any savvy about him, he could enact some genuine change (though the change he'd enact is, in itself, a troubling prospect), but the reality is he's nothing but a spoiled, petulant child, wanting a go at being the big boss. Handing him the presidency would be equivalent to handing him a toy phone and telling him the cow, sheep and chicken at the other end are Congress, Fox News and the Pentagon.
"When cow says 'moo', you've enacted a bill! Isn't little Trumpy-wumpy clever?"
Meanwhile, the Republicans in office can finally do whatever they like without the president keeping their scumbaggery in check.
Make no mistake, how ever many Republicans have come out against the hamster-haired tangerine, you'll see few willing to vote against him. They'll call him a disgrace, and unrepresentative of the party, but at the end of the day, they'd rather be answering to a weak-willed ignoramus, mistaking their empty platitudes for loyalty, than one of their opposite number seeing through every vapid grin, and kicking them in the nuts till they do as they're told.
And so they trot out the usual batch of braggarts, buffoons and blustering cretins, whose political careers are long-past ruining, to mindlessly defend every moronic soundbite he comes out with, while the rest can try to claim the 'Country Before Party' moral high-ground in an attempt to save their own seat, while secretly hoping the majority of voters really are that gullible.
The sad thing is, Trump really was one of the best candidates the Republicans put forward. Chris Christie is a fat, simpering nobody, so lacking in self-worth and future prospects, he was the ideal first sacrifice to be thrown on the Trump dumpster fire. Debating Hillary, Marco Rubio would've come across as a scared little boy getting a spanking form mother. Ben Carson is so befuddled and out-of-touch, he'll be in a nursing home by this time next year, trying to rally the political support of his apple purée. The majority of Ted Cruz's supporters would think today better spent in church, praying to God for the win, rather than actually voting. And by the time of the third primary debate, the rest had already become 'the rest'.
Ironically, much like Ron Paul before him, the only candidate who'd have stood any chance of drawing some liberal support away from the Democrats, and making this a fight of principals and policies, rather than personalities, was John Kasich; the one candidate too sensible for the party base to ever accept.
Despite fears of Trump bringing the apocalypse down upon us all, I see very little being changed by this election. This time tomorrow, the US will prove to be either not quite as stupid as we thought they were, or that mentally-deficient little nation that was big in the '80s, but now spends its time getting fat, ranting about greatness and shouting at a wall.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)