In a vain attempt to continue our series of ‘every _____ film in a day’, my flatmate and I decided attempting to watch every Star Wars film in, indeed, a day. Yes we are crazy. That’s two trilogies, totalling about 12 ½ hours. 12 ½ hours of lightsabers, but thankfully, only two hours of Jar Jar Binks. We were going to have to start early. I remarked that we probably couldn’t do it, that our chances were 4,756 to one, but Mickey was having none of it: ‘Never tell me the odds’ he said.
It was Cornerhouse’s 25th birthday on 25th September, and to celebrate they held an ‘80s party called ‘It was acceptable in the ‘80s’ (why does everybody keep saying that? What was acceptable in the ‘80s? Invading the Faulklands?). It started off with a choice of classic ‘80s films, and everyone went to see The Goonies except me, a move I quickly regretted. Insignificance seemed more attractive at the time, and was also a movie I hadn’t seen approximately a billion times. It’s about a man who is clearly supposed to be Einstein and a woman who is clearly supposed to be Marilyn Monroe who nearly have sex but don’t. Weird. After the film there was a quiz about the ‘80s and I literally didn’t know a single answer, but everyone was given a donut for taking part. Guiltiest donut I’ve ever eaten. The donut of shame.
The party then moved upstairs and it was all free drinks and dancing Ghostbusters. Actually, after the two free drinks it reverted back to mad Cornerhouse prices, so getting battered wasn’t really on the agenda. It would’ve been a little weird anyway to be honest; the crowd at this party were overwhelmingly those who idolised Bill Murray when they were seven, but who are now kind of balding and forlornly picking at their glittery suits over a mug of red wine. The party was a bit lamely decked out and no massive effort had gone into the decoration of the place. There was also the quite fundamental problem that there was no good music in the ‘80s. True story.
Verdict: Members of the Breakfast Club might have enjoyed this but as a member of the Pokemon club this didn’t offer a great deal. Noughties Ferris Bueller would’ve truanted the fuck out of this.
5. Lord of the Rings – ‘I’m no man’
So says Elf-girl Eowyn as she thrusts her blade in the Witch King’s face. I tend to think that the Witch King, when he said that ‘no man could kill him’, meant Man: the race and not Man: a male. Either he didn’t recognise female prowess or he didn’t foresee being stabbed in the head when he made this claim.
Withnail has such an incredible life; ‘Look at him’, you think, ‘He’s having such a good time’. There really is no better advert out there for chain-smoking alcoholism than Withnail. An inadvisable drinking game states that the players must match Withnail drink for drink. It’s impossible. In the course of the film he drinks nine glasses of red wine, six glasses of sherry, one pint of cider, one pint of beer, two shots of gin, thirteen whiskeys and a shot of lighter fluid.
Zuckerberg came up with the notion at Harvard and launched the primitive website from his dorm room. Weird to think; that something that has become a scarily large part of everyday life for 500 million people, was started in what a lot of first years are experiencing now: a room where old beer cans used as ashtrays are literally heavy with cigarette butts, where old orange skins cling to the bottom of waste paper baskets and where blackish grime and bits of indefinable matter stick to an unwashed bowl on your desk. Maybe it’s different at Harvard, but it’s still a fairly novel (if disgusting) notion.
Ah, the cinema; the student’s official alternative to getting completely smashed all the time. For those of you waking up on the floor fully-clothed with chips and cheese all round your mouth, (only to be told that in a few hours you will be repeating the experience), you might just consider attempting to persuade your mates with these great cinemas and offers instead. Just make sure you don’t see Requiem for a Dream. It’s not hangover material.
It reminded me of Brick in that she spends most of the film finding things out. Just going door to door, piecing stuff together. The gruff, mumbling neighbours she demands information from have an untrustworthy air about them, but despite feeling like a borderline horror, it’s more of a slow-moving dramatic detective movie. There isn’t really anything like it.
Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel of the same name reads like a film, so it seems completely logical to copy and paste the story onto the big screen. Time Magazine might have gone a bit off the rails calling it ‘the best book of the decade’, but it’s definitely film worthy.
The original 1930s King Kong is an hour and a half, and even that feels like it’s dragging in some places. It’s a very thin concept; a giant monkey on an island. You certainly wouldn’t have thought that it needs to be three hours. Apparently Peter ‘I’m not going to edit any of my films’ Jackson thought otherwise.