Seven Psychopaths Review

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What do you get when you mix In Bruges and the Magnificent 7?

Seven Psychopaths.

Recently released on DVD, this curious mix of thriller and comedy does not disappoint. Quirky, sarcastic, endlessly quotable, an ensemble cast gives this the feel of an indie classic and rated highly with critics. After a four year gap since his debut with In Bruges, director Martin McDonagh reunites with Colin Farrell starring as the token non-psychopath, much as a British movie might be expected to have a token American. A tone of the autobiographical might be seen here, given the long gap between work and writers block of his character. Yet, if this has been the case, it has certainly been worth the wait.

Violence gives way to some truly hilarious, laugh out loud moments as protagonists include an alcoholic Irish script writer with writers block, an ageing dog abductor with a less than pedestrian past, a gangster with a curiously intense adoration for his Shiatsu, Bonnie and an actor-turned-dog-thief-turned-serial-killer.

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This delicious cocktail is enjoyed with the back-drop of sunny Los Angles, though hardly in the conventional sense. We see the desert outlying regions of the City of Dreams, a blank canvas for our peculiar heroes to face off against their pooch-praising nemesis. Like a child’s playground, the barren landscape is filled like a modern day cowboys and Indians, with the misguided capers of Marty, Billy, Hans and Charlie.

This film teaches its audience many things, and it is perhaps its relatability which makes it so appealing. Setting aside the fact that its protagonists are prone to episodes of murderous frivolity, and engage in casual practices of trigger-happy mania, they each contain characteristics we can relate to. There is the family man, the husband, the pal, the grafter. We see a brilliant man, down on his luck, substance abuse, a guy-you-would-have-a-drink-with-but-not-take-home-to-your-mother. Even a dog lover. We have all known, if not been that person. Though, hopefully, it must be said, minus the gangs and guns!

A touch of Hollywood is thrown in, making the whole thing seem like the sort of road trip you pray you would have the nerve to ride to it’s (in this case, bloody) conclusion. Stumbling upon some rare characters in their bumbling attempts to write a script, the cruel injustices of the world are revealed to us. Sometimes people are good, sometimes they are bad. But most of the time we are merely misguided or misunderstood.

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A core value of this film seems to be that everyone cares about something, and we are prone to irrationality and outright bizarre behaviour in our efforts to defend those things. There is a lesson to be learned in accepting this in everyone, and accepting that sometimes, in getting what you want, you may be preventing another from doing the same, and you may well be expected to pay for this, in the long run. Acceptance, of life, of others, of the improbabilities and impossibilities that it presents to us, is a necessary teaching of life, that we all must learn, one way or another.

It is exceptionally rare that such missions lead us to desert shoot-outs with canine-loving gansters, but hey – this is Hollywood!

REVIEW: 9/10

SPOILER ALERT!:

The only improvement could have been to not kill off Christopher Walken!!

 

SSDD

Goodbye David, Cousin, Bro

Cousin David... Modeling a stolen hat... MY stolen hat...

Cousin David… Modeling a stolen hat… MY stolen hat…

From this title you might think I was lamenting the passing of a dear relative.

Well… you’d be half right. If by passing you meant, passing across the North Atlantic Ocean.

See, my big cousin David is going to see as a trainee Marine Engineer for a few months. he’s a pain in the ass, can be over emotional at times and obsessive as hell… But I wouldn’t change a thing about him. The guy is one of my best friends and it was only in the past few hours that he actually discovered when he was leaving – tomorrow morning he flies to his new home in the big ol’ US of A for four months.

Since it was such short notice I haven’t been able to see him before he goes, so this is my wee present to him before he buggers off to sunnier places without me – spreading a big picture of his face, wearing my hat, on the internet, for anyone who might be interested or stumble across it by accident.

So here you go David, I love you enough to dedicate a whole 5 minutes typing this little goodbye to you. Don’t expect me to say anything soppy or emotional about how much I’m going to miss our walks, how I don’t know who I’m going to pester now that I won’t have my big cousin to annoy, how I’m going to miss having a big brother around and going back to being an only child for a bit. I certainly won’t be saying how it sucks that you’re leaving but how you may never understand quite how proud I am of you that you’ve followed this path and found that niche that makes you happy, and are honing skills that you are already so good at. How I’m not the only one who’s proud of you – you know who else is, and though I may not be religious, I have every faith that that person will keep you safe at sea.

No, that’s not my style.

You had so better come back in one piece or I’m going to destroy you, understand??

 

See ya David, have a safe/exciting/educational/awesome/sunny/once-in-a-lifetime-oh-my-goodness-so-amazing trip!

 

SSDD

Today, The Tyranny of Thatcher Is Truly Burried

Today, the tyranny of Margaret Thatcher was finally laid to rest. Literally.

Great Britain’s longest serving and only female Prime Minister, Baroness Margaret Thatcher, was granted a funeral at St Paul’s Cathedral, London.

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More than 2,000 guest were present in the cathedral, which has served as the funeral location for some of the nations most famous leaders, including Winston Churchill, Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington. Lady Thatcher’s coffin was carried from the cathedral and returned to a hearse which took it to the Royal Hospital Chelsea. From there is was taken to Mortlake Crematorium in south west London for a private cremation.

The streets of the capital were lined with thousands, the crowds containing both of mourners and critics. Celebrations were held across the country, some in commemoration of her life and rich political history, others in jubilation at her death, aged 87.

Famous in this country for all the wrong reasons, haters of this prominent figure of British political history seemed to grossly outnumber her supporters. Not only was she the first and only female Prime Minister we have ever seen, she was the longest serving. During her 11 year rule her decisions inspired much hate and controversy, implementing policies which became known as “Thatcherisms“. Despite her strong leadership in difficult times, to say she was popular now would be wildly inaccurate.

_67056105_67056104Without a doubt she was not the working mans candidate, favouring business over labour, privitisation over Trade Unions. She had several names. The Iron Lady, for one. Know as “The Milk Snatcher”, she took free milk from schools in 1970 as a result of educational budget cuts.

Her name will forever be synonymous with some of the darkest times of Great Britain’s history, but the public reaction to her death has been something utterly unprecedented. Instead of laying to rest a political figure who divided a nation, she has died as she lived – in a haze of controversy and antagonism.

Upon word of her death from a stroke, parties were held in the streets, including one in George Square in Glasgow, a practice that was quick to be condemned by the local police force. Protesters today were in uproar at the fact that, despite these times of austerity, the taxpayer was still obliged to fork out an estimated £10m for the pleasure of seeing her burried with honours similar to those of the late, and much loved, Princess Diana.

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Yet despite her many adversaries, final respects were payed to her with cheers as her body was taken to be cremated. Few deserve to be jeered and spat at, purely in spite, in anger, in disgust at their audacity to die. While her policies may have been unpopular, many of those disrespecting her memory were not even born during her reign. Such barbarism is deplorable, especially from those who are uneducated and had no experience of her a leader. This behaviour is an example of inherited prejudice. Perhaps now that she is gone, such anger will finally dissipate and this country can rid itself of Thatcherites and move on to hating David Cameron for his failing efforts at “New Conservatism”.

No politician gets it right for long, as the Baroness so acutely demonstrated. Yet it cannot be said that her career was a failure, It id certain that she has left an indelible mark on our country. Whether that mark is a light or a smear, is for the individual to decide.

 

MARGARET THATCHER, 1925-2013

BBC News Gallery of Margaret Thatchers Funeral

SSDD

No More Page 3!

No More Page 3!

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The Sun is famous for all kinds of things, few of them good. It isn’t known for it’s high brow reporting, nor it’s dedication to providing the truth. Nope, The Sun is known for being owned by Rupert Murdoch, the man responsible for The News of the World (and we all know how off the reporting rails they went), having more pictures than a comic-book, salacious gossip and… Page 3 – topless models.

It doesn’t pretend to be in the leagues of the likes of The Guardian or The Independent, it’s tagline being “The Best for News, Sport, Showbiz, Celebrities” – not exactly a representative for international affairs, more the working man’s rag. But that’s ok. We need something for everyone. It keeps the press versatile and interesting. But there is “not exactly high brow” and then there’s “morally bankrupt”. The Sun comes under the latter.

There has been a huge debate in recent months regarding page 3 girls, mainly due to Lucy-Anne Holmes starting a petition on change.org last August. As of right now, it has amassed 94,396 signatures. She began the petition after tiring of the patronising way page 3 photos misrepresent women.

You know the ones; topless, naked except for skimpy knickers and, if they’re luck, a pair of cowboy boots or stilleto heels.

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So… this is meant to be “tasteful”??

Now I personally don’t want to see this sight on the inside of my paper. When I open The Sun, I want – well, I say want, I mean expect – to read articles with fewer words than a receipt and bigger pictures than a billboard, telling a peculiar mixture of half truths and “public interest” stories. What I don’t want to see is an unnaturally large pair of tits. I have nothing against the female form; lets face it, if you’re female, you have the same equipment as these women; but the only good thing I can say about page 3 pictures is thank god they’re not man-boobs. Seriously, that’s the only small mercy I can afford such objectification.

Newspapers are failing, readerships plummeting since the rise of the internet and online magazines and forums. They are having to use different tactics to pull in as many readers as possible, from cheaper subscriptions to online versions of their paper equivalent. But selling newspapers using poorly disguised porn is a step too far. It’s cheap. It’s disgusting. It’s meant to be a family newspaper.

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1950s Bullshit

Would you hand a 5 year old a copy of Playboy or Zoo? Of course not! Would you hand them a copy of The Sun? You should be able to, but if you do I’d say you were crazy. Conditioning readers to view women as sex objects is so 1950s. Have they not heard that women have the right to be seen as people, not just porta-boobs or talking uterus’s?

I realise that models make a living doing this kind of shoot, but if you have the figure to be accepted for a topless feature, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to find someone willing to take pictures of you with your clothes on. Neither am I oblivious to the fact that some women feel liberated by how comfortable they feel in their own skin – that’s great, I absolutely accept, even admire this quality – but please, feel liberated and sexy somewhere more appropriate than a newspaper that kids can see.

Call me a prude, but there are countless other places you can get your rocks off if that’s what you really want. As Avenue Q say, The Internet is for Porn. I wouldn’t advise using it for that exclusively, but the resources are there. Let us keep the dignity in reporting. Or at least, let’s try grasp some of it back. It’s clear to see that we’re losing some of  eminence and ethics in journalism, as it slides through our fingers as it vanishes into a web of fiber optics and trolls.

If we can bring back the dignity to one daily newspaper then it would be the first step towards earning back some of the respect reporters have lost in recent years.

NO MORE PAGE 3!!

 


SSDD

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Should I Be This Excited By A Cafetiere?

So, exciting week for me.

Guess who only went and got a cafetiere!?

My new fave thing in the world

My new fave thing in the world

 

I say “went and got”, it was actually a little gift from my lovely mum. 🙂 As a self professed coffee connoisseur, one might expect me to already have one of these wonderful creations. Well, you would have thought wrong. Shameful, I know, I hang my head with the travesty of it. But it’s all ok now, because finally, at long last, I can indulge in my fancy Whittards coffee!! 😀

My partner in crime got it for me in February and we hadn’t realised it was not instant til it was, y’know, in my house already.

This particular box of lovelies contains six flavours; Smooth Vanilla, Rich Hazelnut, Traditional Irish Cream, Chocolate Truffle, Intensely Amaretto and Creamy Intense Caramel.

I’ve only sampled the Creamy Intense Caramel but let me tell you, if you have a sweet tooth, it is the perfect delectable treat. Smelling much sweeter than it actually tastes, it is suitable for even those who prefer a more bitter brew. Silky to drink, two spoonfuls of that in your cafetiere and supper is served!

Tonight, I venture forth into Truffle territory…

Whittard of Chelsea

Whittard of Chelsea

To purchase the above box, click HERE

SSDD