X-Men: Dark Phoenix

It is with a heavy heart that I must write my first terrible review. Up until now I’ve thought most movies were, at the very least, average. I’ve made excuses for how bad they were. I’ve solved plotholes and bad performances to justify the money I’ve spent on the film. That time has passed. Dark Phoenix has broken the mold, and broken my heart.

The latest installment in the X-Men franchise tells the story of how Jean Grey, played by Winterfell’s own Sophie Turner, becomes the powerful Phoenix. After a rescue mission turns sour, Jean absorbs what seems to be a solar flare and is perfectly fine..for about ten minutes. She subsequently proceeds to kill close friends, alienate all around her and become an intergalactic fugitive. Charles Xavier (James McEvoy), Magneto (Michael Fassbender), Blue Beast Man (Nicholas Hoult) and a host of other mutants try to save/kill/contain her in a movie that is not even saved by a fantastic action set piece aboard a train.

Problems

I must admit that I haven’t seen Days of Future Past, so I’m not entirely sure what was wiped out in this timeline. Pretty much everything, I’ve been told. I know that this movie is more truthful to the comics and that The Last Stand has been eradicated, thankfully. Although the aforementioned action scene was fantastic, the first hour and a half are so boring and predictable that it doesn’t really matter.
The X-Men go on a dangerous mission -> Someone nearly dies -> People get annoyed at Charles because he thinks he’s never wrong -> Jean can’t control her powers -> A mysterious villain tries to take over Earth -> A major American city is nearly decimated -> The X-Men and Magneto save the day -> Fin.

I was really looking forward to seeing Jessica Chastain. Ever since Crimson Peak and Molly’s Game she has been one of my favourite actors. It is a shame, then, that she shows no emotion in this movie and has about ten minutes screen time.

I feel like there’s always a scene involving somebody’s parents abandoning or disapproving of their child’s mutant powers in a cul de sac estate in an X-Men movie. Maybe it was only X-Men 2 but the police always get involved and get absolutely owned, not realising that pulling a gun on a powerful being who can control your fu***ng mind is a bad idea. Pulling a gun on any mutant is a bad idea. Wolverine took a bullet in the head, rejected it and kept on keepin’ on. Different timelines, I know, but come on. Don’t pull guns on superheroes and don’t @ me.

I’m like a broken record with this timelines shpiel but I honestly have no problems with it. Keep churning out X-Men movies and I will more than likely go see them. However, different timelines doesn’t mean different appearances I would imagine. So if this movie is set in 1992 and the first X-Men was released in 2000, that means Magneto and Professor X have eight years to go from handsome, charming young men in their forties to totally different looking but no less handsome and charming men in their late sixties.
And yes, you might say to me that it’s a film about mutants walking the Earth and co-existing with a species that can’t even co-exist with other humans of a different colour. And I might say to you that I told you to not @ me and that it makes no Gawd Dayum Sense.

Positives

Train scene. Many fighting and impressive CGI. Cian happy with violence.

Rating

Rotten Tomatoes: 20%

IMDB: 5.9/10

TheRathpeaconRambler: 4/10.

Happy Friday folks and have a good weekend. I’m off to Snow Patrol and Metallica. I haven’t listened to either band since I was 14 so I can’t wait to not know the words and get smashed.

My friend ( The Spider)

The spider in my old bedroom and I had an understanding
That if I caught one of his friends downstairs or on the landing
They were fair game for a rolled up newspaper or a tissue on the wall.

Even though he and I never shared a squabble,
Except for the time of the lynx can spray attack debacle,
Evidently he knows that other spiders are a free for all.

I’ve screamed the house down for tiny ones and old ones in the corner already dead,
Jumping on tables for those on the floor and dangling above my head
But my buddy under the skirting board was just fine.

I did gasp and hold my breath when I saw him first,
Overcome with terror and spinner bloodthirst
But he was too fast and escaped just in time.

The more this happened the more worn down I became,
Stopped caring about the miniscule arachnid annoying my brain
And began to stop worrying about him finding a new home in my hair.

I’d see him in the morning when getting ready for school
And in later years at night when I’d come home drunk like a fool,
Him sitting guard outside his 3 inch wooden lair.

I’ve since moved away to lands far across the sea and
Returned to the home of my loving family,
This time demoted to a different room.

I’m sure he didn’t like me much either despite
The good memories I have of my friend, the spider,
All the while sendning his family and friends to their doom.

 

 

Are Ya There Existential Crisis? It’s Me, Cian!

Different moods call for different movie genres. If you’re mourning a lost love then maybe a romcom isn’t for you at that moment in time. Perhaps a comedy might suffice. If you have a day off and no plans then maybe a thriller will keep you ticking over. There’s no problem with watching your favourite movies over and over again, but it’s also nice to explore your horizons. You never know what you will find on Netflix. It’s an endless trove of new and exciting features and series mixed with foreign language shows and old forgotten favourites. You can stumble upon  a new classic or waste an hour watching a terrible flick.  The one thing to be said for the streaming giant is that a lot of their originals are heartwarming and packed with life lessons.

Last week I received some discouraging news about a college course I was applying for. I took it on the chin at the time but didn’t really let it sink in. I thought, “I am man. I feel no pain.” I stayed true to that thought and for the next five or six days I didn’t really think about it other than the fact that I was pissed off it wasn’t the news I wanted.
Thanks to developing a cold over the weekend I lay in bed late and just watched movies all day, every day. This gave me a lot of time to think about life and what I was and wasn’t doing. Yesterday was the height of my man flu and consisted of comedies and conspiracy theories on YouTube. Today I was picking and choosing more carefully. I watched The Princess Bride, Fargo (1995), The Miami Showband Massacre and The Unicorn Store. The latter of these movies will be my main focus of this discussion. The discussion into my fragile manhood and my constant lack of direction. Warning! It’s gonna be a fun read ahead guys.

For context, I’m not happy with my weight and am gonna ship a good two stone of weight before my holiday to Croatia at the end of the summer. My abs will be the communal washing board for the villagers. My biceps will be the rocks upon which waves will break. Cannae wait.
I’m not bringing in any serious money. I came home from New York, leaving behind a well paying job because of a plan for a better future. That plan is in dissaray and now money is not my friend anymore.
Finally, despite years of hitting the beds after serious gym sessions with the lads, I’m still as ghostly white as the young fella Casper who was knocked down up by Whipstaff Manor there about twenty years ago. Awful tragedy that was.
So in conclusion, I am fat, poor and pale. Not the best combination but you can only play the card you’re dealt; or in this case, the cards you’ve repeatedly sought after again and again and again.

The Unicorn Store was a slap in the face for me. It is directed by Brie Larson and stars herself alongside Samuel L. Jackson and Joan Cusack. Larson plays Kit, a 20-something dreamer and creative type who has failed in her own dreams and so decides to make a go of it in the corporate world. Along the way she fights with her parents, deals with difficult co workers and bosses and loses herself a bit in her new pursuit.
There is a scene at the very start of the film when Kit, fresh from flunking out of art school, is flicking through the channels and hearing all about rejection and how she would be better off settling down. This affected me because I was lounging on the couch just like she was and listening to the same message. The only problem is that I haven’t really tried anything. I’ve difted from job to job and hand out to hand out, doing well at these jobs but yearning for something more despite not looking for that thing.
Another scene towards the end depicts Kit and her mother making up and apologising to each other, Cusack reassuring her onscreen daughter that she doesn’t think that she’s a disappointment. This resonated with me because I feel like I’ve been getting cabin fever at home lately and that my parents think that I’m a disappointment. I wouldn’t be surprised if they do, but it also stems back to that I haven’t failed at anything because I haven’t really tried anything.

There’s an open mic night in Cork City that I could go to every monday night that I just choose not to. I didn’t do anything creative in New York for two fucking years except for start this blog which gives me some sanity. I’ve contributed to a few college and online publications for three or four articles. As soon as I begin to realise I might enjoy putting my work out there consistently I just bail and leave it be. I don’t know what’s wrong with my creative side but hopefully this post will kick it into gear.

The ending of The Unicorn Store is positive. I haven’t revealed any actual spoilers because it inspired me to write this post and I thnk that everyone should go and watch it if they get a chance. It shows that you are allowed to have these periods of self doubt, as long as you still stay true to who you are inside. You are all unique and whatever you choose to do in life, do it your way and with passion.
To anybody who reads my blog, whether it be the movie reviews, the sports pieces or theses ones where I give out about myself for a while, thank you for even clicking on the post. It means a lot to me. Here’s to the future; to being an average weight, financially able to support myself and only myself, and pale.

San Francisco

Just before I made the move back home I took a short trip to San Francisco. A friend of mine had lived there for a year or so and had been telling me how great it was, so I was keen to see the place. Other friends of mine had made the big move across the states to the West coast and I wanted to see them too before i left. Brian and Joanne were getting on great there and Brian, or Broan as I affectionately call him was a massive help to me when I first moved to Woodlawn. I decided to impose upon them for a weekend without their consent, so everyone was happy. They had just returned from a Christmas break to Ireland and I was due to arrive the following Friday, a mere five days later. That was plenty of recovery time for them and I knew they’d appreciate putting me up and showing me the sites.

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I had my last day in work on Thursday of that week. I made the trek back to Woodlawn from Manhattan, relieved to be free of any more responsibilities in the Vanguard. I caught a few hours of shuteye, packed my bag badly once again and wearily made my way to Newark that next morning.
I arrived into San Francisco international airport that Friday evening, still stunned by the beautiful views from my window seat as we flew over Nebraska. I ordered an Uber and made my way to Locksley Ave. Hugo was my driver and after a few minutes confusion as to where he was picking me up we made our way to Brian and Joanne. Hugo talked the ear off me the full forty minute drive, telling me his life story and all about how he was also a concierge in a previous life. He talked, I laughed, he talked, I stayed silent, he talked, I gave grunts and one word replies, he still talked. He got five stars.

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That first night was great. I caught up with two old friends and we went for food in a Caribbean/Brazilian/ethnic resturant. I remember no names of the places I was in because I am lazy and meant to write this last month. We barhopped for a while, drinking Sangria and Vodka Cokes by the jugful. A bar called Milk had so many cutouts of Elvis Presley and impersonators of the King. I put two and two together, got 5 and put it down to San Fran being a cooky place. Not once did it cross my mind that it might be an Elvis themed night. Great lad all the same.

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Along with the weekend came all the sightseeing. We did the lion’s share on the Saturday. We walked down to Haight street, where we were the night before and got a bite to eat, myself and Joanne getting Mimosas and cocktails like all girls do on their hols.
Brian drove us first to the Twin Peaks (LOL). The views were unreal, spreading out over the whole city. In the distance, a tiny speck of land turned out to be Japan. I couldn’t believe it, we were that close to the other side of the world. I had my doubts but Brian explained to me that Earth is flat despite the fact that the globe is round. I was happy with that and happy that Brian would never lie to me. Would you Brian?

Liar then drove us out to one of the viewing points for the Golden Gate bridge. It was awesome up close and the pictures don’t do it justice. I got my picture in with the Holly Bough too, so I was even happier. We could’ve walked it but I only brought a half zip and my nipples were cutting glass. Very dangerous on a windy day.

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That evening we drove out to Sausolito. It is a stunning, picturesque little town that you can reach by car or via ferry from fisherman’s wharf. Right on the edge of the water, droves of tourists took photos perilously close to the deep blue. The city was visible off in the distance, as was Alcatraz, the famous prison that hosted Al Capone and believe it or not, Clint Eastwood.
Japan too loomed large in the background and in my mind.

We had a night on the tiles that night, painting San Francisco red. “But we want blue!”, the San Franciscans cried. We cared not. Brian, Joanne, Sarah and I laughed and roared into the night, painting every square inch of wall red, not forgetting our primer.
San Fran is a great night out in all seriousness but for any New Yorkers that are heading there, last call is 2AM and not 4AM. Be wide.

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Sunday was supposed to be full of sights and tourism too, but after seeing the Golden Gate, the Twin Peaks (LOL), along with Lombard street and the house where Mrs. Doubtfire was filmed, as well as a hangover that would kill a Belgian Blue, we decided to just keep drinking.
Pints of Blue Moon, several shots of whiskey and board games came out in favour of sightseeing and I think we were all a happy bunch.

I did a bit of solo sightseeing on the Monday. After rising from the cot in the early afternoon I made my way to Haight street where I grabbed a bite to eat. I bought a few t-shirts and postcards because that’s what people do on holidays. I hopped in an Uber and travelled down to Pier 39 and Fisherman’s Wharf.
I decided to stay put and have a look around. I was transfixed by the Mechanical Museum where arcade games and old attractions were on display and available to use. There was a whole village that was powered by 75 cents. I must add that it is a miniature village made of wooden figurines, but after you put in the money and walk around the glass display it is just amazing. Countless characters have their own individual movements, some even interacting with others.
There was a Simpsons arcade game, basketball games and shooting games, but I was taken in by the slow moving, intricate depictions of different scenes like the one I just described. Despite all that San Francisco has to offer I would tell everyone to go to that museum, bring a roll of quarters and just have a blast.

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After a last supper with Bi-Bri and Jo-Jo, I flew back to Newark late that night. I didn’t really have time then to think about my experience in San Fran as I had five days to pack and prepare for moving home. After taking two months to get off my arse and write some long-winded spiel about the craic we had there, I know I’ll definitely be back there, I’ll definitely be back for longer and Brian and Joanne are fantastic hosts. I’m willing to look past the fact that they lied to me about the geographical location of Japan in relation to San Fran. Dishonor on your families.

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Resolutions

It’s that time of the year again, the hazy and confusing end/start to the year where people try to transition from eating and drinking whatever they want to imposing strict and unforgiving rules on their lives. People want to give up their aul sins but also want to enjoy themselves. This often leads to several New Year Resolutions that more often than not are given up by the second week of January. Some remain pipe dreams forever, being given up on before the year commences. Fitness goals are attempted almost too eagerly at the beginning, leaving one burnt out and fed up with the whole process. Some people try and quit their vices cold turkey, such as smoking, drinking or eating crap. The beginning of the year can be a stressful time with lost loved ones, kids going back to school and work only around the corner, so maybe cutting down on the fags in the morning would be a better approach. I can’t really talk because I’m in the process of stopping smoking cold-turkey, so I’ll let ye know how it goes!

I read an article online recently about how new year’s resolutions are all bullshit and we shouldn’t subscribe to this ideal of making ourselves into the ideal version of ourselves overnight. I can understand the argument and agree to a certain extent but still, that’s very generalised. Most people make their resolutions because it helps them throughout the year. Even if they don’t succeed in all or any of their attempts at least they can look back and say they started with great intentions.
I myself have never really made any resolutions. I wait until Lent like a good Catholic boy and then give up on everything I enjoy! However, this year, I’m going to make a list of things I should really give up on, mostly including drinking and smoking, and mostly because there’s some funny stories associated with these two vices that are ripe for posting. So rest your hungover head, read my resolutions for the year of Our Lord 2019 and don’t worry if you don’t keep yours, because there is always next time.

New Years Resolutions 2019: A Fool’s Errand

  • Cut down on the binge drinking. By all means, go out and throw back eight pints and a few Tully Dews, maybe a few shots of Sambucca followed by a Vodka Red Bull to level it out every once in a while but not twice a week. O.K., three times a week.
  • Slow down on the smoking. I don’t smoke much really but sure look, no harm to stop smoking fags. Ah, but they’re so nice with a coffee, or after a meal, or after a few pints….we’ll see how it goes.
  • Get back in shape. Not in terrible shape but I could stand to shed a few pounds and get back to full fitness. See above resolution.
  • Start enjoying sport again, and not just enjoying a game because I can’t wait for the few too many pints afterwards.
  • Read more. I made a fairly good effort this/last year and read some fantastic books but I’m gonna try for a book a week next/this year.
  • Don’t punch holes in any more walls. It happened once, everyone had a good laugh because I was still drunk from the night before but if it keeps happening that’ll become my thing. Then people won’t invite me over, I’ll lose all my friends, become homeless and die with no walls around me! A harsh but a fair truth.
  • DO NOT LOSE ANY MORE PHONES!!!! If I lose a phone this year then I am never buying a phone again. I’m going off the grid and I will write my blogs on pieces of paper that I will then set alight and release them into the night sky!
  • Try a job that has a set Monday to Friday, eight hour schedule. Hang on, didn’t I have that one summer in an office and was bored beyond belief? Wasn’t I so excited to finish? Do I secretly enjoy working odd hours and having some week days to myself? I’ll have to revisit this one around Lent.
  • Write more. Up the effort for the blog, try and get some articles published in papers and get prepared for college. Just become more disciplined and have a schedule, not just the odd post every once in a while.
  • Text people back lol.

Despite the number of resolutions it has been an exceptional year. I would go as far as to say it has been the best year of my life so far, or one of them. The drink flowed, the craic was great and I traveled to some places in the States I’ll never forget. I’ve made some lifelong friends in New York and will more than likely be back in the next few years. Although I missed home, birthdays and holidays, I’ve kept a positive outlook on things and look forward to all that 2019 holds for me, my family and friends. Thanks to everyone for reading the blog and the kind words. Here’s to a fantastic year! Don’t @ me.

 

The Changing of the Guard / 4 Train

Packed like sardines in an old tin can we push and squeeze and excuse me.
There are no ‘sorry’s here in the no man’s land that is the middle of the cart.
Hands cling to rails and heads are burrowed in books and phones
While homeless people tell sad stories that would break your heart
If you didn’t hear the same story two homeless people ago.
Oftentimes the same story is told with little differences,
Like instead of a sick son it is a girl or wife,
But people don’t care for any of these hindrances
Because we all have places to go and people to see
In this Amazon jungle of a city.

We hurtle along between 59th and 86th at breakneck speeds,
Planting our feet in position to sway with the machine
As the conductor announces a delay at Grand Concourse.
A collective groan rises up, everybody taking part
In this collective self-pity parade of head shakes,
Low mutters and sighs of frustration.
Eventually, finally, behind schedule as usual
the 4 train pulls into another station
That is full to the brim of students, teachers, laborers, preachers
And other professions that won’t fit on the train.

My calves begin to cramp as we wobble towards Burnside Avenue,
Still no sign of a seat or even a space to lean against a door
While veteran riders apply makeup and read books while the place rattles around them.
Train etiquette is still observed as space is made for the elderly, poor
And pregnant passengers as the sea parts for such weary travelers.
The carriage almost empties at Mosholu Parkway,
Leaving me the carriage to myself as we glide into Woodlawn, the last stop on this train.
I swap out with tired people at the opposite end of the working day,
An extremely exhausted changing of the guard as haggard looks are exchanged as
They begin their day and I am almost finished mine.

Anal Beads

Part 2 of the Instagram Sessions, coming to you live from a secret location in Chelsea. Today, I delve into the history of a topic brought to my attention by a delinquent friend of mine, who I will not name today. Amidst all the lovely suggestions of writing about beer, Doon G.A.A. and mental health, a certain someone suggested writing about anal beads. I originally planned to have the title in all caps and just write “NO”, under the heading and that would be it. I’d get a laugh out of it and maybe others would get a cheap laugh too. I’ve since thought about it and yes, I will write your post. I’ll play your silly game by my rules.

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This reporter is delighted to bring you an exclusive story fresh from the international creative scene. The American National Artist Liaison, founded in 1975 by Hugh Jass, has announced a partnership with Binge Eating and Excessive Drinking Session ltd, founded in 1993 by Richard ‘Dick’ Butt. The aim of this partnership is to send artists from ANAL to the European headquarters of BEEDS in Dublin to examine the Irish relationship to excessive drinking, binge eating and then drinking again to get over the fear. ANAL and BEEDS have flirted in the past with regards to a similar venture but this time there was no pussyfooting around. Straight in, as Hugh Jass said at the press conference in Anus, France.
“We don’t want to be behind the times,” said Dick Butt. “We want to dive straight in, as Hugh just said, but gently. It’s not like starting a lawnmower. You have to be gentle with the Irish lads, or the beeds as I call them. They might have severe cases of the fear or man flu, and we feel deep in our guts that the artists from America can showcase the plight of the Irish male and his need to binge eat and drink.”
“We are setting up centres for the artists all over Ireland and America. Muff, Co. Donegal and Slickpoo, Idaho, will be our two main thought-centric and idea-haven places where the artists and subjects can get together and really get to the bottom of what’s going on with us males.”
“We’re really excited about this,” continued Jass. “When I made Dick my no.2 on this project I had a feeling that it would all go well. We know that it sounds outlandish. I mean, when you think of the two companies, do you really think anyone will volunteer for this project. Surprisingly, many people did, even outside the businesses. The two main centers in Muff and Slickpoo, as well as numerous support centres in other towns in the two countries, will host hundreds of Irish males in the throes of the fear, as well as artists from across the states who will be attempting to depict our unique ability to soldier on through the fear and the gut you accumulate from a day’s drink, only to do it all again.”

The project will officially be launched in Poo in Spain, allowing the artists and the subjects one last session to tear the arse out of it, but gently.

This has been Cian Dalton, reporting for Rambling House News, on the ANAL BEEDS partnership of 2069. Slan go foill.