This film is bad. In fact, that's a massive understatement. Saying this film is bad is kind of like saying someone who caught the Ebola virus is a little under the weather. If you've ever had Ebola you'll know what I mean. Actually, you won't. Because you'll be dead. You probably spent a short time in absolute agony, clawing pieces of skin off, vomiting up your intestines and shitting blood, before ultimately dying. Which, to be fair, sounds like more fun than watching this film again.
This film is a self-indulgent, egotistic, load of shit. It's a bit like that time you asked your girlfriend to undress, didn't bother with any foreplay, and just promptly fucked her, without any attempt to please her, at all. You had your orgasm as soon as you felt like it, didn't you? And then you got up and went and spent the next hour on YouTube, whilst she cried herself to sleep, didn't you? You selfish bastard.
Randy Savage was a hero to millions of kids across the world, beamed into their living rooms and idolised like the true fucking legend that he was. Then came the 1993 Royal Rumble. He entered as the last contestant and we were all relying on him to defeat that fat joke Yokozuna, and he had his chance, but instead he tried to pin him! In a fucking rumble?! What a doss cunt. Yokozuna LOLd in his face and dispatched him with ease. Ever since he's been hated. This film is about something similar.
Did about as much for beach holidays as the Exxon Valdez did for Alaskan wildlife. You can't even dip your toes into the sea without thinking about this film. So good that the theme song has become universally associated with danger.
Trying to understand women is liking trying to break the Enigma code: nigh on impossible. Unless you're Alan Turing, of course. Except he was homosexual. Which does make you wonder; if the only person in the history of the planet who could understand women decided to have relations with men, well, then that says a lot about how fucked up women are, if you ask me.
There's more swearing in this film than there would be in a swear-off between Gordan Fucking Ramsay and his pet fucking parrot. He probably doesn't have one, but picture the scene anyway: it'd be "fuck this" and "fuck that", and then, next thing, the parrot opens a restaurant and shit gets real. You get the idea? Well this film has more swearing than even that!
My girlfriend bought me this as an anniversary gift! Can you fucking believe it? She stood there giggling to herself as I opened it. She said it was a joke gift, but I found it about as funny as she found the physical violence that quickly followed. I watched it though, because I'm not a twat. Or maybe because I am a twat? I don't know. She kept looking at me at all the omg-that-is-so-cute bits, expecting an outpouring of emotion but not seeing a drop. Apparently I'm a cold hearted bastard, although, if she didn't know that already then maybe I'll have to persist in beating it into her.
So five people get stuck in a lift and it turns out that one or more of them is a total prick. I was stuck in a lift once, but it was all good, because the company I had was excellent. It was just me, telling myself jokes, the majority of which I'd never heard before. I was a bit disappointed when the lift was finally fixed and I got out, because it was the most I'd laughed in a long time.
I remember when I met my girlfriend; we locked eyes across a dance floor, and she did that playful thing where she looked away, then looked back again. And when she did, that was when I recognised it: the look of despair that I see staring back at me each morning in the mirror. She has to be the one, I thought. We clearly share a mutual misery that will bond us to one another for eternity. We're still together today, living a life of half truths and broken promises. That's how real relationships are, not the shit depicted in this film.
This is a film about an autistic savant which was released long before autism, and Savant syndrome, were widely understood, so, of course, it blew the socks off everyone and cleaned up at the Oscars. Savants really do exist, managing all sorts of crazy genius; some can draw whole landscapes from memory, others can remember pi to the 2,000th decimal, and some just have a semi-automatic calculator for a brain. Dustin Hoffman does an excellent job of portraying one, arguably his best ever role.