Cinephilia

The Brothers Grimm

Below you'll see the celebrities I supposedly look a bit like, to be honest they're more like the pictures of celebrities that look a bit like the picture I happened to upload.

Anyhoo, I've just got back from commenting on the Mark Wahlberg vehicle "Four Brothers" for the Action & Thriller Close-Up programme with my identical bros Tom and Olly and I though it would be fun to see if any of us get the same celebs.

Dom:

I suppose no-one will believe that I got Wahlberg without trying to cheat but I swear it was a coincidence. Maybe I should have been the mysterious and elusive fifth brother in Four Brothers!

OllY:























Olly will love the fact that he got JT but we all know he looks more like Fred "The Wonder Years" Savage! What a shame it is for him, however, that the OC has stopped filming as he could have doubled for either lead male :(

Tom:

Josh Jackson is actually quite an accurate resemblence - the chin and eye-brow arches have it - but you won't find a closer match for Ronan Keating... It's amazing how you can see the exact same expression on two complete strangers. From hairline to eyebrows right down to smile, chin and even stubble-length, Tom and Ronan look to have been separated at birth. Even their neckline and shoulder stance are the same for crying out loud!

So, it looks like our common ground lies with Fred Savage and just about anyone likely to appear on The OC or Dawson's Creek. Who do you look like? Send your findings.

Catch the triplets on Sky Movies Action & Thriller soon.

Rocky Balboa Is Back

Sure, I like the Rocky movies. I grew up with them. Some people round this office think I like Rocky too much. More the fool them. You can never like Rocky too much. 

Last night I got to go to the Rocky Balboa premiere. After waving at the paparazzi on the red carpet, and giving the Nixon 'V' salute to some adoring (read: bewildered) fans, I got inside to be greeted by Sly himself. The crowd gave him a standing ovation, followed by a thunderous chant of "RO-CKY! RO-CKY!" It was immense.

For anyone who is my age and enjoyed watching all the movies as they grew up, oblivious to box office takings and critical receptions, the chance to see another Rocky movie at the cinema is incredible. For me to be able to see the man himself, as he gave an (albeit brief) introduction to his final instalment, and chant his character's name as has happened in each of his movies, was absolutely fantastic.



Any person that laughs at the thought of such pleasure being taken from something so trivial, is clearly not enjoying their life as much as me. Or maybe they are, and I need to get out more. Still, I had a good time.

The post-show party was pretty rubbish though. Sure, there were some real cuties running around in bath robes and boxing gloves (who actually could box too), and the shorts in a cabinet (that's me posing next to them) were a nice touch. But unless Clubber Lang and Ivan Drago went for each other on the Hippodrome dance floor, it was always going to be a letdown after the dizzying heights of excitement we reached attained during the previous two hours. When you see it, if at any point you are doubting if it's a worthy Rocky movie, wait for Duke and hic clicking neck. "OH YEAHHHHH"

Is it a Turd? Should you refrain? I think it's Super, man!

He's strong like Marmite and has as many admirers as he does nay-sayers... he's almost impossible to mistake for a bird or a plane... he says "no" to drugs... he is Superman.

In case you didn't already know, Big Blue is set to make his triumphant return to the big screen in Superman Returns this weekend.

Advanced word is varied though I'm yet to hear a complaint from a fan of the iconic character. But why listen to me ramble on when you could be reading the reviews for yourself?

Can't get enough of the Super stuff.

Already had enough of Kryptonian guff.


Still, no matter what you think, the people in Metropolis, Illinois know they have a hero to be proud of.

It's Porn Jim, But Not As We Know It...

Hmmm... how can you describe it? It's not really fetish porn, it's not that sexy and it's certainly not hurting anyone (unless they do it too near their eyes).

But Dartpop, one of the millions of users over at You Tube, has a thing about girls popping balloons. And beachballs. And some of the girls are quite pretty. Most of them are wearing bikini's too.

We sent Dartpop a mail asking why there were no men popping balloons. He wrote back calling us perverted.

Girl Bursting Balloons

Mike Taylor

EDIT: And if you really want to see some really cool video of a balloon busting in very slowmo (but without the nearly naked girls) just click here.

Flip(per) over this...

Watch this brave trailer (Robin Williams Penguin alter ego belting out "My Way" in Spanish) for Happy Feet. The marketing blurb says "A comedy adventure set in the land of the Emperor Penguins in the heart of Antarctica. These penguins sing, and each needs their own special song to attract a soul mate. Our hero Mumble (ELIJAH WOOD), son of Elvis (HUGH JACKMAN) and Norma Jean (NICOLE KIDMAN) is the worst singer in the world... but he can tap-dance something fierce!"

Note to Studio theatrical marketing heads: We will always be happy to repeat your blurb word for word when the trailers are as good as this one. Readers, do yourself a favour and download Quicktime 7 so you can watch it it glorious HD.

Click here

Sony In The Pink As Critics See Red

Proving that there really is no hope for humanity, The Pink Panther duly jumped straight in at the top of this week's UK box office charts. Described as "disrespectfully unfunny" (The Guardian Guide), "cruelly unfunny" (Total Film), "distressingly unfunny" (BBCi) and "criminally unfunny" (skymovies.com), there's a bit of a pattern emerging from the critics... those who've seen it anyway.

You see, the reviewing Rottweilers of the national press have saved their nastiest savagings for distributor Sony who elected not to show it to them before anyone else. Outrageous! Scandalous! Disgraceful! Unacceptable!

All too happy to see their superlative-laden quotes splattered across movie posters when it suits them, the chosen few have been stung into action by Sony's snub. In lieu of timely reviews, we were treated to the indignant, life's-so-hard rumblings of the mightily offended in several corners of the the weekend press.

How the people's hearts must have bled as they set off to clean toilets, gut chickens and sell Big Issues on Monday morning. Thank goodness they didn't have to face another day of misery and suffering like those poor critics.

The Pink Panther is lousy and Sony knows it. That's why they did what they did. What's more, not only did they postpone a torrent of predictably unfavourable reviews, but they also got loads of additional publicity and extracted ticket money out of a bunch of don't-know-they're-born critics who normally see this stuff for free.

You've got to hand it to Sony because - unlike everyone else - they're laughing.

Elliott Noble

Must Love Jaws

The best one yet from a crop of classic movies recut and re-edited into somehting quite diefferent. Love the music and love the ending. More please...

(Our) Reviews Are Dogs...

Picture the scene. A chic boutique hotel in London's West End. In a plush screening theatre below Charlotte Street and Steven Spielberg's politicially sensitive thriller Munich is about to be screened for the first time - for the benefit of the press.

But something is badly wrong. For these are not normal film critics. The well-dressed movers'n'shakers sipping chilled Cabernet Sauvignon don't have the cadaverous pallor of those arbiters of cinematic taste who spend the daylight hours in dark, Soho basements harrumphing at Cheaper By The Dozen Two.

They're not huddled in poisonous groups, quills dipped in acid, ready to take apart offerings they don't like the sound of (before seeing a single frame). Not for them, the jaded air of resignation as they file into yet another screening on which lie the hopes of some wannabe Altman who's double mortgaged his house, sold the people carrier and hired the children out to a t-shirt manufacturer on the outskirts of Bombay.

For goodness sake, they don't even have one of those ludicrous torch-cum-pens that illuminates the whole theatre while the user is under the illusion his state-of-the-art stylo is for his eyes only.

No, these are the political editors of Her Majesty's Fourth Estate. The full-time residents of Annie's Bar, slightly ill at ease with the concept of watching a film and then writing about it. They're happier scrutinising the cut'n'thrust of the Commons from the Press Gallery than sinking into the velour splendour of the subterranean screening room.

It's a whole different ball game... and then the lights go down. All is calm and reassuring...even the straggling tottie who make the tea for the fashion desk on Bella roll in late, as is their custom, stumbling over the Church's brogues of a grumbling relic keen to gauge Spielberg's bias to the Israeli cause. Some things never change.

The Times
The Guardian
The Telegraph

Tim Evans