I mean. That sounds ridiculous right? But we live in a world that has an upcoming PEZ film on its way. Where The Angry Birds was a box office smash. And Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are still polluting our big screens. What else could they monopolise on?
That’s right – Monster Trucks.
Starring X-Men star Lucas Till, the film revolves around Tripp, a high school senior who builds, well, a Monster Truck from scraps of cars. All of a sudden, there is a creature who helps him build the cars.
Yes. An actual monster truck.
There’s also Jane Levy, Barry Pepper, Amy Ryan, and Rob Lowe.
Think Transformers and Reel Steal, and that’s the type of film you are going for here. Obviously, if you fucking love Monster Trucks and things that go smash but there is also an element of E.T and The Iron Giant.
Paul Rudd is one of the most gifted actors of all time. The man has a natural aptitude for comedy whilst also extracting the humanity of his characters. Whether its tackling the independent roles such as Prince Avalanche or the big blockbusters of Civil War and Ant-Man, Rudd can do it all.
The man also hasn’t aged since the nineties…
Anyway, Paul Rudd is back in brand new Netflix film The Fundamentals of Caring alongside the young and talented Craig Roberts. Together they portray a carer and a disabled young man who go on a road trip together.
The pairing of Rudd and Roberts really makes the film intriguing. There is something interesting here and hopefully, it isn’t lost under the sea of cinema we are getting this year!
Melissa McCarthy is one of those actresses who you love or you hate. I have found a successful middle ground. On one hand, I adore her talent but I do not enjoy some of her films – particularly the ones where she is typecast as the fat girl and thus the butt off all the jokes. Despite this, she has found some critical praise with the likes of Bridesmaids and Spy tucked firmly under her acting belt.
Her next venture, however, is exactly like every role she has done before except with less of the hilarity making The Boss a garishly boring and dull affair from Ben Malcone – Melissa McCarthy’s husband and creative partner.
The Boss sees McCarthy as a Michelle Darnell, a titan of industry, who has been doing some shady trades of late and is dutifully sent to prison by a competitor/jaded lover. With the help of her long-suffering assistant Claire, she is released from jail, and attempts to re-brand herself as America’s sweetheart by starting her own brownie business. Not everyone is ready to forgive so easily, however, and Michelle has to learn that to really make it in this world, it’s great to have some allies beside her…
Michelle Darnell would’ve surely given some tips to everyone involved here because clearly, no one has worked hard to produce this film. Clearly over-compensating for a lazy script and utterly shallow premise, the comedy is a stupid array of rapid insults and slapstick that we’ve become accustomed to with McCarthy. She does it well but with the loss of a deeper and more turgid script, The Boss melts into the tedious ripple of films that she is producing at the moment.The film has little laughs and when they come, they offer tiny chuckles.
The biggest overbearing issue with The Boss is the acting talent. McCarthy aside, the likes of Kristen Bell and Peter Dinklage offer nothing as support. Frankly, it’s almost as though the pair were phoning in their next paycheque. No one had on-screen chemistry – even supposed ex-lovers – making their characters dullards with no personality. Ever.
It’s disappointing because this is Kristen Bell; an actress who was able to capture the youthful playful promises of a princess in Frozen as well as the ruthless espionage and intellect of Veronica Mars. Here, however, she is reduced to the straight-laced dreary character with nothing to offer than her chagrined acceptance of the situation. It’s all tripe with McCarthy leading the way.
Know that in the emotional scenes, there is a snippet of a talented actress, pouring her heart out for a soft and tender moment. That’s the truly infuriating part of The Boss. McCarthy is a stunning performer and a gifted comedienne who can do a lot more then be sent flying through the air by a sofa couch. Who knows? Maybe that’s where she wants to be right now but, frankly, it is tedious and sloppy. It’s slapping a different wigs on her and forcing the same character into different situations. You could say that she is just monopolising on her Academy Award nominated role as Megan in Bridesmaids.
I’d argue not.
Because at least for Bridesmaids, she was a different, weirder, and braver than the stuff she is producing now.
It’s been billed as Shoreditch’s answer to the Secret Cinema of the music world – so we went along and checked it out.
Based in a secret Shoreditch location, Trespass (by Mahogany sessions) has been billed as the Secret Cinema of the music world – an immersive experience likened to being submerged in a music video. And of course, as soon as something gets labelled with the word ‘cinema’, our interest gets piqued – so we had to go along and check it out.
The premise was simple. It would be a secret gig, with secret acts, in a secret location, with just 100 tickets per night. We went along to the opening night, and were given a map at our meeting point that lead us to the secret location – what appeared to be an abandoned house down a back street off Spitalfield’s market.
The makeshift venue screamed ‘hipster heaven’ with its bare brick, scraps of old wallpaper and an improvised MDF bar (now I’m not one to complain about bar prices – I live in London, after all – but £2 for a tonic water poured from a 1.5l multipack bottle seems a little steep even by my standards).
As the audience members piled into what must have, at one point, been someone’s living room, the limited 100 tickets suddenly seemed a much vaster number than it originally had. It was a warm and muggy evening, in desperate need of a storm, and one hundred music fans trying to climb each other in the tiny room didn’t QUITE work. Nonetheless, we managed to grab a beer before retreating to the safety of the street, where the air was.
After some speculation as to who the artists would be and minor concern that we couldn’t see any logical place for a band to be placed, the organiser beckoned us to the archway which had been separated by some large sheets of canvas paper, inviting those at the front to rip their way into the first immersive experience. On the other side stood an upright piano in front of a tree that seemed to grow through the floor and up into the ceiling; dead leaves scattered the floor and the first act – Amber Run – began with a beautiful trill of the piano accompanied by an acoustic guitar and some delightful four part harmonies.
Skeptical though we had been up until this point, we soon recovered our optimism as, within three songs, a dozen members of the audience began to pipe in – stooges, all – in a perfect choral harmony to create one of the most incredibly raw, immersive, and hauntingly beautiful moments I had ever experienced. My companion and I both agreed afterwards that we’d never heard anything so magical. To give you an idea, here is a video of Amber Run and the choir at their mahogany session.
After a ten minute bustle back to the bar and some brief concern at not being able to find the lavatory, we were lead upstairs by the same megaphone-wielding man, where we were treated to someone who, in my opinion, needs to be topping the charts – immediately. I know it sounds like I’m gushing over these musicians, so I’ll let you know in advance that the following two acts weren’t so great. But this guy, seriously.
Martin Luke Brown has an amazing voice, an incredible range, and an eclectic catalogue of songs that had the already very warm audience sweating as they danced along. But what really made his set was his personality – he was the only one of the artists who made us feel as though we had been truly welcomed into his psyche. Unfortunately, the immersive aspect of the evening stopped there.
Despite the attempts to recreate music video style locations, we essentially were just watching bands play in various rooms of a house. And whilst, yes, a couple of these artists were exceptional, others were reasonably mediocre (though none were terrible, I must be clear on this).
Added to the bottle-necking between rooms and the questionable logistics, I’d say there’s a lot to be ironed out for these events, and perhaps a little more innovation on the design front – but a bigger budget could have really made something special.
