After the lack of negative feedback from my… er… one previous movie review I feel that this must be the most successful type of thing on a site visited by… erm… me… In truth, I only visit it because my electronic banking details are on one of the pages and it’s the only way I can avoid losing them… but still, it’s not like there’s an email address I can complain to.

 In light of my arse clinging to the seat with a feverish tenacity I can’t be bothered to put on any of the low-rent collection of poorly pirated DVDs in the corner behind the Christmas tree. Plus, ever since mid-July, when I lifted the bottom of that thing out of the water and discovered that it had turned a dark black and was speckled with virulent turquoise mould, I don’t really like going near that thing. Seriously, if getting a thousand needles in my feet is bad enough, getting ebola will just about top off a thriller of a Friday night.

So… I’ll improvise.

Reviews of Movies Entirely by Memory

 I refuse to remind myself by looking at the Internet Movie DataBase. I refuse to find out who else is getting a go on Angelina Jolie… that shit gets me down. So I have… hang on, the word’s coming… credibility? No… that’s not it, it’s something like that. Actually, it could be that, I don’t know, I forgot what I was meant to be saying. No, it’s something else, the word that means I’m not cheating and am putting effort in. Fuck it.

 The first movie, or I should I say movies?, I shall review… yeah, “movies”, that’s the right choice… what with there being two of them… it’s not the hardest grammar call I’ve ever had to make… are:

Short Circuit and Short Circuit 2

 I saw these two films about… er… anywhere between 20 and 15 years ago… I know it was somewhere within that range because it was an age where I couldn’t reach the kitchen counter and the large knife resting on it. I know it was between 20 and 15 years ago because I still have eyes and a slowly beating heart. The latter though, that’s a little blacker and more gnarled because of these two movies.

 The last sentence set off the little green line in Word. Fuck the little green line in Word. The only way I could make that fucking thing go away would be to stick a semicolon in somewhere utterly at fucking random and change the post-coital tense or some other fucking thing. Oh… Or making the entire sentence read like this:

 Latter; though; blacker my heart; gnarled movies two.

 See… the green line don’t touch that shit… FUCK YOU GREEN LINE.

 It seems it hasn’t got the balls to fuck with that last sentence fragment. It’s running scared now… oh, but now it’s going for “hasn’t got”… The spiteful little fuck… I think I just blew a retina with rage. You don’t like “running scared” now either? Oh let’s see how you fucking like it when I start deleting random files from you? You think you’ll last long without that one.

 Okay. So I had to reinstall Word. I’m going to think about it this way when it comes to the green line: I killed your brother… I’ll take you down just as fucking easily.

 So… The movies:

Plot:

 The first one had that robot in it. It was some form of terminator or, more exactly, the offspring of a terminator and C3P0. It was the kind of robot that would get picked last for games and would be instantly someone’s bitch if ever it went to prison. And it would love it.

 So, this robot gets some coffee spilt in it or something, develops a conscience, and then somewhere Steve Guttenberg comes into the movie. If I recall correctly he had a whacky Asian sidekick who was actually a white guy made up to look Asian… or… more accurately, jaundiced. This is the single interesting fact about these movies… The fact that, in the maker’s eyes, it was harder work to find an actual Asian guy than to get a white guy and paint him orange.

 So… er… somehow Guttenberg, who in an ideal world would be dead by now, gets the robot and… I think there was a van. He had this laser gun thing that looked like it was basically a car vacuum. It fired red laser beams, but never at people, which would have made the movie marginally cool. Sadly it was such an ineffectual robot I suspect that it would turn out to have about as much deadly power as laser pointers sold by pikeys in markets. This wasn’t a killing robot; it was more of an expensive way of giving presentations.

 Seriously, I’m not kidding, I can’t remember the fucking word I was looking for earlier; it’s eating away at me.

 Guttenberg and the robot drive somewhere grassy by the seaside. There’s some woman involved. She either was, resembled, or was as fucking aggravating as, Courtney Cox. Or she could have just been a woman with brown hair. Seeing as this was a movie about a robot who wanted to get rid of his giant laser phallus because it sickened him to use it; you can safely assume there was no sex.

 At the end I think he fights another anorexic robot who utterly makes him his robot bitch until running over a mine or something… thus proving the movies central theme that people who like using their lasercocks are the aggressors and motivated only by the desire to destroy Steve Guttenberg’s friends.

 Summary:

 Two talentless people and a robot of ambiguous sexuality fight someone in a suit for the right to piss through a hole not a pole.

 Short Circuit 2:

 Plot:

 I saw this film about twice, and I think one time I missed most of it. The most damning comment I can make about this movie is that it lost its star power. Yes… Imagine a film that actually has its case weakened by losing Steve Guttenberg… Shudder.

 We kept the orange painted white guy though… I’m guessing some studio executive decided that just looking Asian was good enough to intern the guy and only let him out to torture him. Whichever nation OrangeFace was meant to represent was probably offended by the portrayal. I was offended by the concept, the execution, and the fact that this movie wasn’t actually just a cunning trick to entrap the cast as being communists. Frankly, there’s a lot of evidence to prove the latter.

 Our robot friend has now had his op. Yes, the former death dealing, would-be slaughterer of the world now has a red lunchbox instead of a laserschlong. Note the switch from giving to receiving. The only thing it’s lacking is some sweet cyber-titties for orange faced man to rub his foundation off on.

 In some disturbing Eighties way he starts cleaning up Harlem or something. This involves stopping people from making messes, harassing women, and… fuck knows… I assume from the fact I was allowed to watch it that it wasn’t slinging crack, pimping out the ladies, drive-bys, or having any of the above pinned on them by the police.

 I think his main weapon was spreading love or some such shit, I don’t think there were any high-powered court scenes where he finally caught the racist police officer in a lie about where he found the gun… No… it was more like baking cookies or something.

 Just for a moment imagine the film if he’d kept the laser… The ghetto rises up behind their mighty new leader and cuts a bloody, laser-powered, swathe through the corrupt and embittered police department. It would finally end with the mayor and the robot fighting bare knuckle on a roof top until finally admitting their mutual love and making red hot mayor-robo love.

 As it was… er… I think there was a van again. Oh, and the robot got the crap beaten out of it and may or may not have died at the end. I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.

Beaches

Plot:

 I don’t know why I watched this. I was about four and the TV didn’t have a remote, but I think it was more that at that age I would have stared at a pig’s arse if it was having a crap and, believe me, nothing spews shit like this movie.

 Bett Midler and someone else piss and moan for a while then one of them finally fucking dies. I don’t know who and I don’t fucking care.

I wonder if the DVD comes with a special feature that lets you dance on her fucking grave.

Police Academy 1-7

Plot:

Watching the first one was like being forced to slowly insert a suppository the size and shape of a pinecone into your arse. The sequels were like being told you did it wrong and having to take it out and try again.

 The plot involved people you would only see again in “comedic” soft porn plus Steve Guttenberg, who mercifully keeps his hairy arse off screen. Stuff usually crashed at the end. In the middle, if memory serves me correctly, everyone just stood around looking awkward and ashamed.

Some softcore porn with Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf

Plot:

 Right, this was on Channel 5 at about midnight a few years back, and was the final channel I hit before turning the TV off. I turned the TV off then. Partially this was due to nothing good being on TV, partially due to the fact that I’d just seen five minutes of an “erotic drama” starring Jan Michael Fucking Vincent From Airwolf.

 Quite who came up with the idea that the star power their “erotic drama” needed would come from Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf is a disturbing mystery, yet it’s nowhere near as disturbing as the fact I once caught a few minutes of one with an elderly Alan Fucking Alda From M*A*S*H in it. Which in turn is less disturbing than the fact I’ve caught five minutes of more than one porn movie with the little guy who played Radar O’Reilly.

 Those who would frown upon me for watching softcore porn: look at the above names… now think about quite how likely I was to have been turned on to the point of sinful deeds… And yes, I know the clever answer that is to go “so you did then”, but, for once, even I didn’t sink that low. If it had been Loretta Switt though…

 I can’t remember, but I’m fairly sure I’ve seen something with Angela Lansbury naked in it.

 The actual plot of the movie starring Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf is a complete, and merciful, mystery to me… However, I have read more than enough TV guide synopsises of this kind of thing to be able to guess. I’d also guess it got one star out of five.

 I’d go with:

 Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf is a high-powered psychiatrist who’s married to a brunette bird. One of his patients is a blonde bint who, via the magic of surgery, has “erotic drama” breasts. These are breasts that have been surgically enhanced to… maybe a C. They’re quite nice to look at, but are strapped to an actress, normally called Shannon-something, who is fraying at the edges these days. Whether she’s either on the way down from legitimate TV work, or now too stretched out for proper porn, is something I’ve never researched.

 So Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf starts giving her one on a regular basis, probably in imaginative way, occasionally then giving his brunette wife one. Halfway through doing the wife she’ll point out that he doesn’t seem too interested…

 I would like to point out to the wife that, frankly, she’s the one with the problem. Lady… you’re fucking Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf and you’re writhing about like a sack of shrimp… Unless he’s got spines on his parts NOBODY is going to react to a seeing to from Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf in any other fashion than a forlorn sigh and the realisation that you could do better… maybe Macgyver or something.

 At some point in the end the blonde one will get shot by the brunette and Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf will cover it up. Then, the next week, the one person who is turned on by this kind of movie will be watching the next one and wondering whether that particular Shannon was the one who died last week and whether that counts as necrophilia…

 Oh… and another thing… Who the fuck came up with the idea that an “erotic drama” should end with people shooting each other?  Did you ever notice how in proper porn none of the people involved then blow the other one’s skull apart with a shotgun? Why? Because it breaks the mood. I would, however, like to say that such methods should be used to counteract requests for cuddling in real life.

Turner and Hooch/K9

 Plot:

 Dog and either Tom Hanks or Jim Belushi. Both were made in the 80’s so I assume drug barons were the bad guys that the bloke and the dog were trying to take down.

 Think of these movies as the 80’s true dark side. While the homo-erotic nature of the buddy-movie reigned supreme, there was a brief trend for taking it further. This time the oiling up was between man and dog… male dog, of course… a female dog would have showed weakness to the Russians. The women in these movies are worse than women in regular movies for two reasons:

 Firstly: They didn’t die. Something so fundamentally wrong it’s traumatic. They even stayed interested up to and beyond the final shootout. This is just plain rude.

 Secondly: They didn’t just drive a wedge between two men; they drove a wedge between two species. While, having seen these movies, it’s safe to assume that women were actually a metaphor for the kind of “bonding” that won’t be legal for another ten years, it still robs us of the true moneyshot these movies require: Man and dog, shining with sweat, staring longingly at each other in the front seat of a car before finally going into bloody battle and joyfully frolicking and ejaculating red hot lead into their enemies.

 Notice how when the three of them were in the car, the dog always got the back seat. I believe this means that the mutts were doing the pitching to Hanks and Belushi. It’s all there.

 The main bulk of the films, if I recall, is basically glorified dog walking, but with occasional wacky stand-offs and dogs biting testicles. I believe this was the dog defending its claim to Belushi or Hanks… note how those two always stood back and trotted out trite explanations for the actions of their other halves, much like women when trying to explain why their boyfriend is slinging racial slurs at waiters.

 I think in one of the films an old guy with a beard got stabbed which pissed off one of the people and made it personal. As for the other film… hell, someone he knew must have been killed somehow or something because, frankly, they were a loose cannon.

*Loose cannon is a nautical term commenting on the dangers of a cannon breaking lose on a ship and rolling across a tilting deck, twatting everyone in its path. In movie terms it’s similarly a bulky mass flailing about in a sinking ship, just with a lot of oil glistening on manbreasts.

 They both had cars... that I remember. Both dogs may well have dribbled a lot… which was hilarious for all of the millionth of a second it took for the brain to process the information from the eye.

 Both dogs got shot if I remember, and both got laid. One died and it ended with a lingering look between Tom Hanks and a puppy that spoke of both a desperate desire for a sequel. Also the kind of desperate desire that leads to the dog eventually having to go:

 “I CAN NEVER REPLACE HIM… YOU LOVE A GHOST… A GHOST… This is wrong… we both know it deep down… Just because I look like him doesn’t mean I am him… you must let him go…”

 At this point Tom Hanks will be old and bloated, wearing a purple silk dressing gown, smoking a cigarette through a giant holder, and have a waxed moustache. He will end it by drinking heavily and drowning in the pool as the dog goes off to pursue a career as a fireman or something.

 Oh, and I’m fairly sure both “family” films ended with some bloke getting bloodily shot at the end. This led to the fascinating TV decision: Do we play this after the watershed when nobody will watch it, or do we cut out the violence, swearing, and dog-sex? Guess which one they went with? As a result I thought for years that dogs got pregnant by sucking spaghetti together. It wouldn’t be until later in life that I’d learn that oral is, in fact, a reliable method of contraception. I did briefly wonder what the implications would be if I couldn’t finish a meal of spaghetti and put the plate down for the dog to finish. Sadly I never got my army of the night. The dog, however, threw up a lot.

 An interesting note to end on:  These weren’t the movies I originally intended to review, I couldn’t fucking remember which ones they were. I think I’ve got fucking Alzheimer’s. I still haven’t remembered that word either. I can’t even remember the sentence. I just know I’ve forgotten a word. For the sake of my sanity I’m just going to say that word was “crapulence” because my original plan to use it somewhere a few pages back was aborted by my forgetting exactly what it meant.

 Using Word’s Auto-Summarise setting I believe the sentence should read:

 “Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf fucked a dog with his laserschlong and died of crapulence.”

 This sentence will also serve to make me the number one result in any google search for “Alzheimer’s”, “Jan Michael Vincent From Airwolf”, and “dog fucking”. I believe this will more than triple the number of people reading this.