Hollywood, CA-After the unforeseen success experienced by the heartbreaking epic, Manchester by the Sea, Hollywood executives have decided to create a sequel of the film with the intent of making it a more digestible experience to the lowest common denominator of humankind, which happens to be the majority of film goers in the United States.
The sequel is being called Manchester by the Sea II: Fully Loaded, and features a powerhouse cast covering virtually every meaningful film genre over the last 20 years. From movies involving four grown adults pissing in a kid’s pool to films about Gerard Butler’s oiled up abs, MBTS: Fully Loaded is jammed up and ready to blow harder than a crudely fashioned glory hole at Buffalo Wild Wings.
Part of the film is shot in black and white and entirely silent, as Dane Cook and Kevin James work as ailing chimney sweeps in 1940’s Russia. But after they discover a treasure map sent from Ben Franklin, played by a shirtless, greased up Girard Butler, their entire world changes as they are sent on mission to find the resurrected corpse of a prominent Free Mason, alien high priestess capable of eluding death. (Ali Larter)
Watch as this fast paced, action packed examination of the human spirit, piledrives a thousand emotions into your brain at once and finishes with a CGI battle for galactic supremacy between a Tim Allen hologram and Jack Sparrow from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.
Critics are calling Manchester by the Sea II: Fully Loaded “A rare glimpse into Steven Seagal’s butthole,” and “Fully loaded, more like fully bloated, in terms of the out of shape, has-been cast,”
So see Manchester by the Sea II: Fully Loaded today!
Recent speculation that the script for Interstellar was written by Matthew Mcconaughey and Anne Hathaway during an acid fueled drum circle at a Phish show have been confirmed. The gaping plot holes, relentless endorsement of the goodness in humanity, and obsession with inception space-time continuums wreaked of the tailgate lots outside of a Alpine Valley. A place where 99% of the discussions involve conjectures such as “What if like…there was a universe…on our fingernail…and like…another universe on someone’s fingernail inside that universe….” Mcconaughey signaling Morse Code whilst wading through a visual representation of multiple time dimensions all but confirmed any lingering suspicion.
Hathaway explained that shortly after taking a sheet of blotter acid, during a 114 minute version of Bathtub Gin, she spoke with someone she believed was Stephen Hawking. A drum circle ensued. “He seemed really smart, he explained the entire plot to Matthew and I telepathically. He was really good at playing drums.” Reports have confirmed that Stephen Hawking was no where near the venue at the time, nor has he ever attended a Phish show, or is aware of Phish’s existence. Witnesses saw Mcconaughey and Hathaway engaged in a lengthy, tear filled stare off with a tan Lincoln Navigator during the same 114 minute version of Bathtub Gin.
All Is Lost
Rotten Tomatoes: 93%
Watching All Is Lost is equivalent to listening to the painful laboring of an elderly patron debating whether to leave a 6.5% or 7% tip after promptly finishing “brunch” by 8:30 a.m. at a local pancake house. Decaf coffee, a bowl of bran flakes with skim milk, several crosswords and one and a half hour later they decide to leave 6% because the waiter seemed like he was madder than a wet hen around the 7th coffee refill. The tip is left in 2 dollar bills with a Werther’s on top.
All Is Lost embodies this prodigious boredom. Watching Robert Redford aimlessly linger around his ship that is lost at sea with absolutely no urgency or purpose is a chore in the truest sense of the word. He may as well have been wading in a lukewarm jacuzzi, enjoying a matinee magic show on a retiree-only cruise ship…touring different stamp collection museums around Florida. At one point a storm rolls in, the prospect of something exciting happening is paralyzing. It stirs you from your half asleep stupor. Then…as with the rest of the movie the momentum is quietly neutralized. Instead of hauling ass around the boat, batting down the hatches, Redford instead sips a glass of whiskey like his morning prune juice and delicately shaves what appear to be ultra soft and very well maintained grandpa whiskers. He moves with the urgency of a three toed sloth who just ate a handful of Xanaxes and has been given access to an overstuffed couch.
I bet the jeans he was wearing in the movie were cotton and not denim. Judging by the way he shuffled his feet across the carpeted vessel, he was clearly wearing orthopedic inserts. Maybe those had something to do with the pacing of it all. I struggled about halfway through the movie before succumbing to the crippling boredom. Wiping the cob webs that had somehow gathered on the remote and changing the channel to Frasier re-runs. The idea that this was somehow Oscar nominated is more mind-blowing than the existence of the Flatizza.
Rotten Tomatoes: 49%
Escape Plan is the true definition of a buddy comedy. The greatest part is the audience isn’t even included on most of the jokes. Both Sly Stallone and Arnold go into full subtitle mode. I would imagine any other actors on the set were completely unaware of when scenes started or ended, they just had to simply wait for the bizarre inaudible exchanges between the two to end. It’s endearing all the same though and most of the times other characters narrate exactly what is happening in both the plot of the movie and the relationship between Arnold and Sly, so it’s relatively easy to follow. The director really did his homework on what it’s like to be in prison, which from what I can tell involves eating lunch, surveying the facilities for weaknesses, and making friends. The whole time it seemed like the movie was self-aware though, that it was essentially a parody which was appreciated.
Two scenes in the movie were absolutely crucial in terms of classic action movie moments. One is when Arnold rips a mounted .50 caliber helicopter gun off of its stand and lays waste to around a hundred nameless henchmen. One would assume the stand is there for stability and to increase accuracy however not in this case. Once wrapped in Arnold’s massive biceps it became deadly accurate and somehow easier to use (judging by the cool expression on Arnold’s face). Literally every single bullet rendered exploded brains everywhere. Another scene involved Sly hanging onto a rope ladder, yoked out of his mind, taking heat from an AK and not being the least bit phased. Knowing that he couldn’t get a bad-ass looking head shot on the man that had trapped him, he did the next best thing…blow up an enormous stash of conveniently and hastily placed oil drums. The movie could have used a lot more greased up Sly training moments but in this day and age you can’t have it all.
The Purge is a delightfully average action/horror movie that will undoubtedly go perfectly in the FX B-movie rotation, sandwiched comfortably between Ghost Rider and Iron Man. It’s suspenseful sure… though I think the real problem is every person in the movie is completely infuriating. With no discernible hero, it was impossible and disorienting to try and pick a side.
On one hand, the people partaking the purge looked like massive tools that probably pre-gamed the night at one of those bars that connects to a mall. (see Bar Louie) When not wearing stupid animal masks and creepily skipping around during the purge they’re likely working out at Xport fitness blasting their nipples in a cut sleeves muscle t-shirt. This or trampling children and or elderly at Lollapalooza to Instagram the right toe of one of the Mumfords. I actually found the behavior at Lollap more reprehensible than what I saw here. On the other hand the combination of Ethan Hawke looking infinitely stupid and his sniveling coward son that looked like the youngest Hanson brother was enough to make my blood boil. He makes Zach Braff look like a fully cycled and completely oiled up Sly Stallone.
I also found myself regularly dozing off into varying day dreams about what I might do during the purge. I think I effectively settled on paying Vin Diesel to wheel me around in famed monster truck Gravedigger, consuming several different flavored bottles of Parrot Bay rum and telling him to do as many 360’s as possible in the allotted 12 hours. That way I could purge both spirit and body. This commission would also require that he remind me several times in the night that we are living our lives “a quarter mile at a time.” Either that or go with a more peaceful route, commission Nickelback to perform a live concert at my house, VJ’d by Eugene Levy, that way I could be 100% certain no one showed up, and if they did they would promptly leave.