Posts Tagged ‘batman

25
Jul
12

Movie Review: The Dark Knight Rises

the-dark-knight-rises-new-featuretteJ-Rab and I hit up the Dark Knight Rises premier last night courtesy of Nokia, who used the opportunity to officially launch the Lumia 900, and wow, what a brilliant movie.

Because I realise most of you haven’t seen it yet, I’m going to try and keep this as vague as possible in terms of the actual plot.

Co-writer and director Christopher Nolan is nothing if not a master of genius plot twists and the last thing I want to do is give his art away so don’t worry, this review is spoiler-alert free.

For starters, and I think this goes without saying, don’t go into The Dark Knight Rises expecting a movie that is anything like its predecessor.

Co-writer / director Christopher Nolan has wisely chosen a totally new direction for DKR that explores a fresh side of the Batman legend and makes it impossible to say DKR is better or worse than The Dark Knight.

 

 

DKR takes place eight years after The Dark Knight during which time Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) has successfully managed to clean up Gotham’s streets by passing an act in commemoration of Harvey Dent that puts an end to organised crime in the city.

Eccentric billionaire Bruce Wayne has all but disappeared off the face of the earth, as has the Batman who, having taken the fall for Harvey Dent’s murder, is widely regarded by Gotham as a monster that the city is better off without.

Enter ruthless mercenary Bane (Tom Hardy), who amasses an army of equally ruthless and unquestioningly loyal soldiers and followers in the sewers of Gotham City.

With the help of Selina Kyle, aka Catwoman (Anne Hathaway), Bane begins systematically dismantling the structures of power that run Gotham City and the ensuing chaos makes The Joker’s efforts to destabilise Gotham look like a child’s attempt to sculpt Michelangelo’s David with edible play dough.

 

 

Much like Batman Begins, Christian Bale is in the driving seat once again this time around because where the late Heath Ledger’s Joker was psychotic, unstable and loveable, Bane is methodical, stone-faced and detestable, so there’s no one to steal Bale’s thunder.

His portrayal of Batman is like nothing seen in the previous films and he brings a vulnerability to the character that emphasises the fact that under the suit is just a man, like any other, and that all that sets him apart from the rest of us is his unfailing belief in an ideal for which he is willing to fight to the death for.

Nolan is, as always, masterful in his careful construction of his plot and characters. It’s like watching someone set up an entire football stadium of dominos, each one perfectly placed so that at the right time, all he has to do is nudge one of them ever so slightly and the entire lot come crashing down in a breath-taking moment of utter chaos.

 

 

The Dark Knight Rises is the most fitting conclusion to Nolan’s Batman trilogy that any fan or casual movie-goer could ask for.

There is hardly one character, whether it’s Hathaway’s silky Catwoman, Michael Cain’s endearing, scene-stealing Alfred or Joseph Gordan-Levitt’s unflinchingly courageous patrol officer John Blake, that doesn’t light up the screen with every line of carefully weighed and scripted dialogue.

Sure, the characters might not land the one-liners with the panache of a film like the Avengers, but this is not a happy-go-lucky Marvel outing. This is DC, it’s dark, it’s broody and from the first scene right through to the end it had my heart pounding like a Slipknot drum solo in my chest.

Chances are you were going to see this movie whether I wrote this review or not, so I realise that writing this review is almost superfluous, but The Dark Knight Rises is deserving of the best praise a critic can give and I feel it’s my duty to add my voice to that already deafening chorous.

Watch this film. You won’t be disappointed.

Final Verdict: 9/10

-ST

25
Jun
12

SlickTiger discovers What They Fed Smelly Cat – Nearly Dies

vlcsnap-45524I tweeted on Saturday that after 15 years I think I have finally figured out what they were feeding “Smelly Cat”.

Yeah, I know. Is that the best I can do? A post about cat shit? Well, I didn’t leave my flat all weekend so it’s pretty much the most exciting thing that happened to me.

See, J-Rab works as a vet nurse so she often brings cats home that she can’t bear to leave in cages all weekend because they are sick, wounded, or in the case of our newest border, pregnant.

It’s a pretty neat arrangement. We get to pretend we have a cat until he or she is better and we’ve become nice and emotionally attached and then the cats get adopted by other people and we spiral into a week-long catless depression.

 

 

Substitute the cat for a love-interest and it’s like half of a cheesy rom-com. At first I can’t stand the cat; it’s irritating, it does things that infuriate me and it generally turns my neatly ordered life upside-down.

Then one night, I come home from work feeling down and fed up with life and the cat gingerly climbs up into my lap, looks up at me with its deep, all-knowing green eyes and says, “It’s ok man. I’m here.”

Then it’s all fun and games. Me and the cat pal-ing around the flat, watching TV together, sharing a glass of milk, stalking each other around corners, playing with the string-on-a-stick toy cats just can’t seem to get enough of, passing out together on the couch after too much whisky, good times I tell ya.

 

 

Then the cat gets better and we make the tough choice of giving him or her to a better home, one where he isn’t confined to spending his entire life cooped up in a two-bedroom flat, watching the world go by from a second-story window.

We hand him over to the new owners, smiling and making jokes about how much quieter it’s going to be without that little fleabag terrorising our flat at 3 in the morning because he’s spent all day sleeping curled up on his favourite couch in the sun.

We wave goodbye, knowing we’ve done the right thing. Back at home we find the string-on-a-stick toy half under the bed. Two nights later I come home from work and call out to the cat as I walk in the door, force of habit, but obviously nothing calls back.

 

 

Pretty sure that’s not going to happen with our newest feline buddy though because to put it bluntly, her shits smell so godawful, hell itself holds it’s breath every time she daintily lifts her tail and squeezes out a brown tube of concentrated evil.

On Saturday J-Rab and I were dividing and conquering – she was at the grocery store and I was handling the washing when it happened.

The litter box is in the spare room, which is coincidentally also where we keep the clothes horse. I’m not wild about the idea of being in the same room as anything taking a shit so I was naturally a little weary when I saw her climb into the litter box and start scratching around.

Next thing I know she assumes the position and proceeds to drop not one, but four largish turds in rapid succession.

 

 

I watched in abject horror as the last one squirmed out, my feet glued to the spot by the macabre spectacle of it all which, in retrospect, was definitely the wrong course of action.

What I should have done was gotten the fuck outta there as fast as humanly possible. I should have bolted out the flat, through the front gate and down the street, my slippers slapping furiously against the pavement and my dressing gown flapping in the wind because MY GOD, THE SMELL!

For the next FORTY MINUTES it was like I was living INSIDE a gigantic cat shit. Nowhere in the flat was safe. Eventually I was forced to hold my breath, grab the cat litter, throw the sliding door open, stash the litter box on the far corner of our balcony, throw the sliding door closed, exhale, and turn the ceiling fan on full.

Thanks to that near-death experience I can now say without a moment’s hesitation that the answer to Phoebe from Friends’ song “Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat, what are they feeding you?” is PILCHARDS!

 

 

DO NOT feed your cat pilchards if it shits inside. Seriously, I think a lung might have collapsed as a direct result of inhaling the toxic fumes from that cat’s putrid shit.

In conclusion I can safely say that this could very well be the first foster-cat we’ve taken in that I won’t be sorry to see go.

Not so sure about its kittens though…

Christ, what a softie Winking smile

-ST

10
May
11

Free Comic Book Day Hell’s Yeah!

Me and comic books go way back.

When I was about six years old, I went to stay with my crazy aunt and uncle for a few weeks while my folks were on holiday and basically had the time of my life.

 

 

Every day my uncle would arrive home with a bag of Tomato Sauce chips and two comic books tucked under his arm for me.

I still remember lying on the floor in the lounge of that mad, mushroom-shaped house, happily munching on the chips while my grubby red-stained fingers turned the pages hungrily.

Some of the comics he bought me were legit titles like Superman and Spiderman, but mostly they were a melting pot of a whole lot of weird shit that other countries probably weren’t buying so SA got them shipped in at super-low wholesale rates to stack news vendor shelves and warp fragile little minds like mine.

 

 

After that I didn’t really get back into them until my first year in high school when a buddy at the time who was completely obsessed filled me in on the entire X-Men saga that was going on at the time (Age Of Apocalypse, look it up, it was badass) and got me interested in the myriad of stories that comprise the Marvel universe.

His prize comic was the first Wolverine comic, published back in ‘89. Of course, Wolverine had featured in tons of X-Men comics before that, but ‘89 was the first time he was given his own title.

 

 

I always wanted to read that comic, but even taking it out of its cardboard-backed plastic sheath would have caused my buddy instant heart failure so I just admired the cover from a distance, feigning excitement when all I really felt was seething hatred for the spoilt little prick.

I eventually did get to read the entire Age Of Apocalypse series though when I was in hospital after an altercation with some asphalt that nearly left me dead, but that’s a story for another time Winking smile

During varsity I became friends with Graumpot, one of the biggest comic book freaks I’ve ever had the pleasure of living with.

Through him I read a buttload of comics – the entire Preacher series, the entire Invisibles series, most of Sandman, most of the Lucifer series, Wolverine: Origins and Wolverine: Ends, a whole bunch of Batman and one of my favourite Marvel comics of all time, Marvel Zombies (you HAVE to read it, it’s brilliant).

 

 

See, with comics I discovered one of life’s undeniable truths, that if there’s one thing better than a great novel, it’s a great novel with pictures.

So on Saturday I went through to Reader’s Den (across the street from Cavendish) for Free Comic Book Day, an international event that takes place on the first weekend in May where all comic book stores the world over hand out free comic books to whoever wants them.

J-Rab was working so I figured I’d kill some time and head on down to take pictures of the freaks, grab a free comic book or two and head home.

 

 

Then I made the mistake of browsing through the literally hundreds of graphic novels they were selling and what did I find? Volume 1 of a Wolverine graphic novel that included that first Wolverine comic I’d so coveted back when I was a zit-faced little shit kicker and even better than that, it was going for fifty bucks!

Right after that I found Volume 3, also going for fifty bucks! Then I made the rookie error of asking one of the guys working behind the tables scattered with graphic novels if he’d seen Volume 2 anywhere.

Within 5 minutes he’d told all his buddies helping him to look for it and next thing I knew they started off-loading Wolverine graphic novels on me like dump trucks at a landfill.

 

 

Two hundred and eighty bucks and an hour later I found myself shuffling back to my car with no less than five Wolverine graphic novels wandering what the fuck just happened.

But seriously, five graphic novels for R280 is pretty goddamn cheap. Normally it would have cost me R870 (no shit, the comics had the normal prices crossed out in red on all their covers with the new prices written underneath) which means normally I wouldn’t have bought fucking one, which means I still wasted R280.

Still though, I started reading them right after I got home and they’re pretty cool, very old school, but still badass.

And just in case I haven’t scared all my female readers off this site for life, look what else I found guys, the FIRST EVER comic book that ever featured Wolverine and it wasn’t even an X-Men comic, it was a fucking HULK comic!

 

 

I think we’ve all learned an important lesson here kids. When the next Free Comic Book Day rolls around take my advice and get there early with fistfuls of cash at the ready, wahoo!

-ST

01
Apr
11

Do NOT Fuck With The Melissa Riso Police!

If the definition of insanity is hitting your head repeatedly against a wall and expecting a different result every time then I must be one of the craziest fuckers I know, or the dumbest, I haven’t quite figured that one out yet…

 

 

Loyal readers of this junkyard site might recall a post I put up last year that featured the gorgeous model and sometimes porn star Melissa Riso, you can read the original here.

Well, a couple months after I posted that, I got banned from posting on my own site by WordPress because they had been issued a nasty letter from the Melissa Riso Police (henceforth referred to as the MRP) accusing me of copyright infringement.

WordPress very kindly removed the image of her I had used and restored my rights to post on the site three days later, the fascist assholes.

So naturally, once my rights to post on my own goddamn site had been restored, the first thing I did was put up another picture of Melissa Riso as a kind of misguided ‘fuck you’ to the MPR.

 

 

Read all about that here.

In a career of posting things I probably shouldn’t, that single move really stands out as by far the most retarded thing I’ve ever done.

Why the fuck I did that, I have no idea, but holy shot I really wish I hadn’t.

Her lawyers didn’t bother going to WordPress this time around, they went directly to me.

I’m being sued for $65 000.

I don’t know whether to cry or laugh. The letter was emailed through this morning, so there’s always the chance that it’s some kind of very fucked up, twisted April fool’s joke (please dear god) but I forwarded it immediately to my uncle who’s a legal advisor and he says from what he can tell, it’s 100% legit.

My uncle says there’s a chance if we plead guilty to the charges they’re laying against me (basically copyright infringement, using her image without the express permission of her or her agency, engaging in “malicious slander” against her, etc.) they might reduce the amount they’re suing me for, but it would probably also mean taking this site down to placate the fucking fuckers.

I probably shouldn’t even be writing this, but at this stage who the fuck cares? What could they possibly do to me that’s worse than being sued for what works out to be R439,222.68?

 

 

Where the fuck am I even going to find that kind of money?! I mean seriously?! What a load of total fucking bullshit!

If anyone knows any shit hot entertainment lawyers that can help a nigga out, I could seriously use one right about now. This whole thing just seems really unnecessary and nasty. I know I can be an asshole at times, but c’mon! I’m being sued for nearly half a fucking million rand! Nobody deserves that!

Anyway. Have a great weekend. If anyone needs me I’ll be at the bar, putting a sizeable dent in a bottle of whatever whisky I can get my hands on.

The End.

-ST

 

 

 

…ps April Fools 😉

16
Aug
10

The Weekend Gets A Solid 8/10

Even though it’s fucking shitty Monday again and even though we’re all right back here, right where we were last week and even though no one’s boiled up any fucking coffee yet because everyone that works here are jerks and all those emails you chose to ignore on Friday are burning little holes of guilt in your inbox like smouldering cigarette cherries through your prep school blazer, even though all this shit’s happening, I think we can agree that the weekend that just past?

It was pretty awesome.

 

 

Mine kicked off with a few rushed beers with my main man SupaDan at Neighbourhood where we hurriedly tried to bang out a fresh storyboard for the next TigerTV extravaganza. All I can say at this stage is we’re taking things to the next level this time around and the shit we’ve got planned is going to make that whole necrophilia thing we did a few months back look like a big fucking joke.

See what I did there? Course you didn’t! Get some coffee in you fer chrissakes, you’re still half asleep 😉

Then right at the end of my drinks with Supa, this guy flags me down like he knows me and I look at him like I know him too, which is completely fucked up, and just as we’re about to do the whole, “Hey man! / Hey bro! / How things? / Yeah good and you? / Yeah good! / Well good to see you! / Yeah you too!” this guy says my favourite fucking sentence to me:

“Hey! Don’t you write that SlickTiger blog?”

To which I replied, “Fuck yeah! I am SlickTiger!” (affirming who you are through a fabricated alias is so fucking cool. It’s like someone coming up to you and saying “Hey! Look everybody! Batman!”).

 

 

And that’s how I met Bowlphilosophy, the guy who posted one of my favourite comments on the site so far, right under this post.

After that I went with my boss-lady to the Cape Town convention centre for the annual Highlands Ball hosted by the Keepers Of The Quaich.

For brevity’s sake I’m not going to go into all the details of what went down, but basically I tasted some of the best single malts money can buy, watched an enraged Scott slash a haggis to ribbons (some kind of tradition) and went dressed like this:

 

 

Then, as if my life wasn’t fucking weird enough, a crazy thing happened in the wee hours of Saturday morning.

See, right behind where we live on a wine-farm-that-shall-not-be-named, are enclosures for Anatolian Shepherds that we look after. They’re flippin’ MASSIVE dogs that mostly just bark all night and add to my sleep-deprivation-inspired madness but are also a lot of fun to pal around with because they’re so big and friendly.

Anyway, one of the Anatolians (Mercedes) has been pregnant for some time and at 4 on Saturday morning, she gave birth to two puppies.

J-Rab was on call for the puppies and rushed out the second the woman watching Mercedes called to say the puppies were breaching.

I half remember J-Rab running off in the wee hours to attend to the birth and then I went back to sleep. Six hours later, J-Rab still hadn’t returned and when she did, it was with the news that Mercedes had not given birth to two puppies, nor four puppies, but TEN FUCKING PUPPIES AND WAS STILL HAVING CONTRACTIONS!

An hour after that, it was 11 puppies. An hour after THAT I watched as puppy no. 12 was born.

Who knew one mammal could spit out so many little wet furry worms?!

 

 

Then while J-Rab and her aunt and cousins and I were all having lunch at Dornier and enjoying some fine Cab Sav, J-Rab gets a call that puppy no. 13 has been born.

At which stage we all poured another glass of wine, more than a little concerned that the world was about to be completely overrun by some kind of puppy apocalypse.

The final count, I shit you not, is 14 puppies. Mercedes was in labour for 18 hours in total before the last little squeaker plopped onto the straw and into the world.

That’s enough for an entire Iditarod Sled Dog team, just like in Iron Will! You know, the movie about the guy whose dad is killed in the mushing accident and so he decides to take part in a dog-sled race to save his family farm starring MacKenzie Astin? C’mon! Everyone knows that movie!

Anyway, bottom line is if this whole blogging gig doesn’t work out for me, I’m taking my Iditarod dog sled team to Alaska and there’s nothing you can say to stop me.

So now here I am, sandwiched between cheetah cubs on one side and 14 Anatolian puppies on the other.

And lemme tell ya, life couldn’t be better 🙂

So yeah, what did you get up to this weekend?

-ST

19
Jul
10

Monday Morning Kicks

Danny de Vito always kinda creeped me out because what the hell is he? He’s not a dwarf and he’s not a midget, he’s just a really short guy who I can’t look at without picturing the Penguin from Batman.

He’s a great actor though, I decided this on Friday night when J-Rab, Jennyjenjen (previously known as Jenni-fuh) and me invited ourselves around to Barbarian’s place after a few drinks at Trenchtown and spent the whole night watching It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

 

 

I don’t know if I’ve been living under a rock the past few years and after posting this a whole bunch of you are going to think I fit into the ‘laggard’ section of the adoption curve (GOD FORBID!) but seriously, I’ve never heard anyone talk about It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia and it’s the funniest fucking TV show I’ve watched since Flight of the Conchords.

The humour’s completely different though – Sunny In Philly is full of loud, shouty Americans doing insanely stupid and fucked up shit to one another that had me crying I was laughing so hard.

Think Three’s Company on crack and without the lame canned laughter. I hate canned laughter. Those are dead people laughing, did you know that? Yeah, canned laughter is recycled over and over so the next time you hear it in a sitcom, just think about that for a second. Dead people.

You know a TV show’s a winner when the episodes have titles like “Mac’s Banging The Waitress”, “Mac and Charlie Die” and “Who Pooped The Bed?”

And to top it all off they got Danny de Vito in there playing Frank Reynolds who frequently exploits and insults anyone he comes into contact with and is generally shady, unethical and pretty siff all in all.

And so I leave you with the following clip to give you a laugh on what is otherwise a mind-numbingly crap Monday.

 

 

Catch you crazy cats tomorrow.

-ST