The Green Hornet

30 days into the new year and we already have a winner.

The winner of the Worst Movie award of 2011.

Seth Rogen's The Green Hornet is put simply, absolute trash. I had absolutely no expectations for this movie at all. My reluctance to watch at first stemmed from two reasons: Seth Rogen and Jay Chou. In the end, I was vindicated categorically for the former while pleasantly surprised and was coloured impressed by the latter. Only the most infinitesimal of reasons why I would pay for the movie tickets was because of Christoph 'The Inglorius Basterd' Waltz. Ever since he terrorised Brad Pitt and co in four different languages, I thought, this can't be that bad.

It wasn't bad. It was an abomination.

Dialogue and how its presented don't really bother me all that much, truth be told, when it comes to the movies I watch. If I'm going to watch a movie where the nature of its story and its dialogue are the key to the success of it, then, I would pay attention. After all, you don't watch Daniel Day-Lewis and expect him to spew obscenities in an American accent now, do you? I genuinely thought that the dialogue in this "reimagined" Green Hornet would be decent. Instead, all I hear from the increasingly, excruciatingly noxious Rogen are: "shit", "bitch", "Yo", and "SHIT!" The dialogue of his and one Evan Goldberg resembles that of chatters of 12-year-old boys who've discovered porn for the first time and are wondering why their little brothers down there are all a tingle. I cannot fathom the person's rationale, or rather, sanity, when giving the final green (pun intended tremendously) light to this atrocity. The script reeks of juvenile meanderings, where big booms and silly jokes try to mask its soulless existence. I wish I could describe further but doing so would make me more livid so I'll leave it with this:

Even my 6-year-old cousin speaks more sense than the entire movie.

The story is simple and follows a very linear path and I will try to summarise it as best as I can because I'm getting of weary remembering this anathema of the year. Rogen's character, Brit Reid, has just lost his father due to a fatal bee sting. He inherits the father's newspaper empire but as we are educated right at the beginning of the movie is that Brit is a curly-haired yob with a penchant for toy figurines. Brit is a toothless, smarmy, incorrigible, imbecile that spends his days bumming around his father's palace of a home so when he's entrusted with running the newspaper, he flees like the dingbat he is. After befriending, Kato, played by a rather good Jay Chou, they both bond together over seemingly nothing at all and start their misguided heroic adventures. Soon, they make a name for themselves and keep on their shenanigans with Brit instructing his newspaper team to run stories of the Green Hornet. We are are then introduced a dry-looking yet still ditzy Cameron Diaz whose character's name eludes me now so I'll just call her Chesire Cat who is hired as the personal assistant to Brit. Brit tells her to ramp up the notoriety of the Green Hornet to spur his obsessive compulsive behaviour of stroking his own balls. Of course, the self-proclaimed gangsta of all gangstas is none other than Waltz himself, playing Chudnofsky with the same look and expressions as his dastardly portrayal of Col. Hans Landa but none of the panache. This is probably due to the aforesaid twaddle of a script. In the end, there's the inevitable showdown where after nearly 2 hours is revealed and my hatred is complete. Any surprises? No. Was I willing to tear down the cinema with my bare hands? You bet.

Swimming in the sea of movideom dross, it was left to the Asian to somehow keep this fast sinking sampan afloat, Jay 'My smile and scowl are one' Chou, playing Kato, made famous by a certain Bruce Lee. Even with his haltering command of English, he at least saved some dignity to proceedings. He was actually likeable albeit with a scowl thicker than miso soup.

I want to believe that Rogen wanted to pay homage to this somewhat forgotten title but to do it in the manner he did, is not only besmirching its legacy, it leaves a terribly awful taste in the choices of Hollywood these days. I cannot in good faith recommend this if you view dialogue and script in slight regard.

Seth Rogen, grow up.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Happy Chinese New Year to all. Have a great one.

Taking a break from blogging...

So here's a rather fetching picture of a rather splendid team:

Enjoy the week, people.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I really have nothing in mind this week. Not even a tiny morsel of an idea. Am I getting old?

You talking to me? Wait, now I see your message.

Lunch time is sanctimonious. When the clock strikes 12 it also strikes the tummy. Pangs of hunger start to bang on the sides of your stomach causing you to click on the Send button of your work's email program. Thankfully, you've taken out your boss's email address just before the accident. Explaining to him why things transpired the way they did during his absence would just be a killjoy.

Scores of hungry buggers start to stream out of their respective office. All of them thinking of where to gorge themselves silly on carbs and wonder why they feel so darn sleepy by 2pm. While waiting for the food to arrive everyone starts whipping out their phones. One would be checking the stock market, another would be loading up Angry Birds while another pair would compare versions and what they can do with jailbreak software. And there is me. Waiting for the food. Looking at other tables and noticing the same thing. People on their phones. People not talking to each other. They only time they do is when they want ketchup.

What happened to good old gossip? What about the news that the receptionist is actually a man? Have we sacrificed being gregarious by swapping communicating with one another by peering intently into a 3" screen? I find it rude that you start playing a game right in front of me and others when you could actually have decent conversations. Maybe it's because I don't have one of them phones that can allow you to be on an IM or surf the Internet so I can't do the same. But when I'm with people, especially people I work with, I want to have chats. They can be about anything at all. It doesn't matter what the topic is as long as there are voices in the air and not the clickity-clickity sounds of the onboard keypad.

So next time you whip out your phone, please, spare a thought to that someone who doesn't have the phone to check his emails. Just don't send him an instant message.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Blog posts will be a bit short till further notice. This is because I've rediscovered the joys of gaming. Tee hee.

Death Penalty - It's the right thing to use.

I am, by all accounts, a misanthrope.

Going to work at 0600, I curse at all the silly drivers. I get into the train I curse at all the idiots who make a mad dash thinking their little spring will propel them into the coach but instead end up getting crush in between the doors.Whenever I see idiocy I call it out. People would say, why do you care? The truth is:

I don't.

So why do I still make a fuss? It's something inbred in me. Can't change, but I want to. Sometimes I wish physical pain be inflicted on the imbeciles who cross my path. Is it a good trait? Of course not. However, as part of an ongoing mission to be a better human being I now count to 1 (tried going up to 3 but I lost patience), take a deep breath and sigh. Walking away is the prefered choice these days. I am giving my all to be a better person, hoping to eradicate the bad attributes that attached themselves onto my psyche. But there's one that will probably stay with me infinitely.

I support the death penalty.

Raping of minors/elderly. Mass murder. These two, two me, are the unpardonable sins of humankind. What reason could the perpetrators give that would exonerate them? None. Why should these monsters be put in a cell, wasting taxpayer's money and space, when a needle will settle the score? Killing is wrong according to this here site. They have some salient points but they're all applicable to cases where there's a lot of circumstantial evidence and where the benefit of doubt can cloud judgement. I am for the death penalty for cases where there is 100% certainty he/she committed the atrocity.

The punishment should fit the crime, so goes the adage. I wholeheartedly concur.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Further to the post above, I believe you know what I would do to the assailant.

2011. The year of rabbit heads, bigger guns and a potentially new environment.

Happy New Year, everyone! Yes, 2010 is a now a distant memory.

What was supposed to be a grand celebration turned out to be as exciting as watching a limpid soufflé rise. 2011 arrived in a whimper. Besides the pretty firework display, the other bang came with our buck as a feast fit for 10 was charged between 4.

All in all, this was me and my buds preferred choice to usher in 2011.

I've always had resolutions but they never had MUST-DO attached to it. I reckon that if I had done so I would be buggered madly if didn't achieve them. So they're there and I will do my best to fulfil them. Therefore, without any more ado, here they are in no particular order:

• Re-evaluate my career's progression. I have a sneaky suspicion a most radical outcome will be achieved this year. Watch this space.
• Backing off on the heavy weights. While I will want to continue and see if I can get a 150kg deadlift single by mid-year, I want to incorporate a cooling period where lighter weights with higher repetitions are employed. This is to preserve the body as heavy loads tax the central nervous system greatly and in due course gravity may even bring me 'down'.
• Spending my money wisely. 2010 was a wallet-busting year. I tend to go on shopping blitzes and that's when my credit card will see a lot of action. This year I will rein in as much as I can, purchasing goods only when deemed necessary.
• Short temper needs a kick in the arse.

Reading the latest from Anthony Bourdain (look to your right for the book's title) and a few chapters in he mentions that he thought he was the Big Daddy. He readily admits he wasn't. While he could have gone into working at highly prestigious kitchens and work with great chefs, instead, he chose to work at third- or fourth- tier establishments. It's funny that it's because of his 'poor' choices that now he is famous. One can never know for certain if a move in career is going to be the best or worst decision. This brings me nicely to the last resolution:

• Take big risks.

2011 promises to be a big year. Let's see if it does. Good luck to you, too.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Work resumes tomorrow. The wheel turns again. Fuck.