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Breaking News: Peter Jackson's King Kong worse than I remembered
Posted by Quasar on Friday, July 9, 2010
If there'd been a comparison to that newly produced turd and his adaptation of King Kong, it would've been beyond perfect.
So.........
I saw Flyboys last night, and with the exception of the gorgeous countryside and special effects, I was somewhat disappointed. Just another war propaganda film for the video-game generation.
There were so many factual and technical errors-- especially wrt the dogfighting, which appeared to have been inspired more by the Battle of Yavin than by anything that took place above the skies of France in 1916.
I say again, we do need more WWI themed movies, and at least one serious movie about flying aces. Next time, do more homework.
I'm considering checking out the director's cut of Peter Jackson's King Kong. Bad idea?
I'd wait for the Extended Edition of the Director's Cut. Sam Raimi cameos as a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88.
Will there be a Director's Cut of the Extended Edition of the Director's Cut? All signs point to "Peter Jackson's full of himself enough to do it!!!"
Last weekend I watched the 4th Season Premier of the brilliant Robot Chicken. There was a series of movies they'd boiled down to just the interesting parts, so each movie was just a couple of seconds long. Peter Jackson's King Kong made the list. It jumped straight to the end credits. I've never laughed so hard in my life!!!!!! (Well, I was laughing pretty hard when I was in the theater watching Peter Jackson's King Kong, but I think that was mostly delirium.)
Quasar wrote:
Last weekend I watched the 4th Season Premier of the brilliant Robot Chicken. There was a series of movies they'd boiled down to just the interesting parts, so each movie was just a couple of seconds long. Peter Jackson's King Kong made the list. It jumped straight to the end credits. I've never laughed so hard in my life!!!!!! (Well, I was laughing pretty hard when I was in the theater watching Peter Jackson's King Kong, but I think that was mostly delirium.)
I decided to watch this 'Robot Chicken' after reading your post. Unfortunately, it was not available for instant viewing on their website, but they had their new 'Star Wars'-themed episode up, so I watched that: it had some pretty good bits, I thought. Then I downloaded season 4 and watched episode one: it did actually include a sketch about movies boiled down to their essential parts, and for PJ's 'King Kong' this was the end credits. It was funny. I also liked that they had Joss Whedon voicing himself in the opening bit, and that they joked with Ron Moore about how badly written BSG was. Seth McFarland also showed up in that sketch, but after watching that third SW episode it seems like he's practically their primary voice artist, so there's not much reason to mention him.
I knew you'd like the Whedon bit. "Wow, you really say Whedonverse?"
The Swollen Goi...
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Posts: 14343
Posted: 13 years 41 weeks ago
I wrote what follows back in 2006. It was the second in a series I was calling "Unfinished Tales of Fallen Directors." The first was about M. Night Shyamalan, and was clearly inspired by "George Thurston," one of the last pieces in Ambrose Bierce's Civil War Stories. The third one, about Mel Gibson, never made it past the planning stage. I wrote these during a time when I was supposed to be working on other stuff. Anyway, here you go:
His left hand did its awkward best to keep the book opened to the four-
"Why are human bodies cursed to do this simple, ghastly thing with
in shorthand.
P. J. felt a gas coming. He pressed the tissue up against his anus and
released it as silently as was possible. Fran was asleep, and he did not
intend to wake her.
He left the tissue and withdrew his hand from between his legs. Fran had
told him it was time to start wiping from behind or to the side. It was time
to show some water closet breeding. "No reason to lose all that weight if
you are going to continue relieving yourself in such a boorish manner."
Whatever.
P. J. closed his legs, rested the book on his thighs and drew a page
from right to left.
He lifted the book and began to read again. He read a line. Five more.
Several pages. He dog-eared 457 and set the anthology in the sink.
P. J. pushed. A droplet left the the tap, met the gloss of the anthology
cover's spine, rolled down the spine, spread itself out, and sank into
the binding. Push. Push. His temples damped, a spurt of air escaped
his nostrils and the waste of meals past began to make that slow,
pleasant rumble from the high end of the rectum to the low.
Smaug puts New Line in my pocket. P. J. would make his movie, and
then he would make other movies. Push.
Ah! The head--in his mind a sodden cluster of brown garlic bulbs--was
Smaug? No. Great Smaug! Ooh. Ooh. Hmm. That's the . . . I like
the feel of . . . Mmm. Smaug. Golden.