A Fantastic Fear of Everything (2012)

When we reviewed The Rum Diaries back in oh so bleeding long ago, one our main complaints was that Bruce Robinson’s screenplay just didn’t capture the feel of Hunter S. Thompson’s writing. Well, there seems to be some sort of universal balance at play as Chris Hopewell and Crispian Mills’ A Fantastic Fear of Everything tries to ape Robinson’s own work with about the same amount of success.

Simon Pegg plays Jack, a children’s author trying to branch out and write the next big murder mystery. Unfortunately, as a result of his intense research into the dark underbelly of London, Jack has developed Scelerophobia, a fear of being murdered or attacked. With phone calls from his publisher misinterpreted as threats upon his person, he has begun a battle against a window that won’t stay shut and refuses to leave his flat for fear of being murdered. His life now consisting of trying to write his novel in between checking the perimeter of his living room every five minutes, ever fearful that the non-descript attacker in his woolly head will become flesh. Soon, the unimaginable happens, Pegg finds himself bereft of clean underwear and with a realisation that he has to man up and go to the launderette; a place he’s had a fear of since he was a child.

That really is the plot.

With his trademarked high pitched squeaking, shouting and flip-flopping between anger and despair, there’s enough in the first 15 minutes of Everything to keep Pegg fans happy. It’s just after those 15 minutes, the film really starts to struggle. As Jack potters about in his grubby underwear like a male Miss Havisham – refusing to see friend, lover or anyone he may have to interact with – there isn’t very much for Pegg to do except mumble and throw himself into closed doors. 2009’s Bunny and The Bull has a similarly troubled hero who refuses to leave his abode and yet the secret to what made him this way is part of the plot and joy of the film. With Everything, we’re told up front what Pegg’s problem is. Yes, there are flashbacks to a life before his self-imposed house arrest and a suggestion that something else is at fault, but they don’t really add anything accept an excuse for an emancipated Pegg to shout Cu… Well, a swearword. That’s all you need to know.

The reason why we mentioned the scribbler of Withnail and I earlier is that this is loosely based on his novella, Paranoia in a Launderette. It also appears to be loosely based on Robinson’s unique rhythm and style, as Pegg’s narration fluctuates between McGann’s over thinking calm and Grant’s grating anger. Indeed, when Pegg finally does reach the Launderette, his impression of Withnail just needs a scarf from the clan of McFuck to seal the deal.

Ah, yes, the launderette scene. What in essence could be a short film, it raises many a titter as Pegg fights valiantly with the buildings inanimate washing machines and the inanimate features of its patrons. It’s genuinely entertaining and the best part of the film. It’s a shame it’s book-ended by an opening and closing of lacklustre plotting. When we get into the third act, our dual directors throw everything at the screen – slo-mo camera angles, jaunty pop songs and even stop motion animation – to try and help the film limp its way to the finishing line. With an ill-advised love story and a twist crowbarred in for no good reason but to give the film some tension, when the credits roll, you’ll wonder what better way you could have spent your time.

It’s great to see that Simon Pegg doing independent movies, but this really isn’t the vehicle for him. This self described ‘semi-comedy’ is just not interesting enough to return to. A curiosity at best, you’re wise to avoid this and run with Bunny and the Bull.

A Few Best Men (2011)

A Few Best Men sees Brit David Locking (Xavier Samuel) falling for Australian Mia Ramme whilst on a tropical holiday away from his humdrum life in London. They quickly become engaged and resolve to get married as soon as possible. All very sweet and lovely. Except Mia has never met his friends; level-headed Tom (Kris Marshall), loser Graham (Kevin Bishop) and recently dumped Luke (Tim Draxl), none of whom seem overly enthused with David’s upcoming nuptials. Throw in a stolen sheep, a violent drug dealer and Olivia Newton John’s facelift and you’ve got, record scratch, a night to remember.

You have to feel sorry writer Dean Craig, after the moderately successful B, Death of a Funeral, his script for A Few Best Men was optioned. Then in 2009 his agent suggested he watch the latest R-Rated side splitter, The Hangover. With stark similarities apparent, he was encouraged to revisit his script. Director Stephan Elliot (The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert) promptly took the script, moved the action to the Blue Mountains  and rewrote it to add, as he saw it, a more realistic Australian hue to the proceedings, causing a riff between him and Craig.

It’s important to bring this all up, because if there is one thing that is critically wrong with A Few Best Men, it’s the unshakable feeling that this has been messed with too much. Everyone is trying so hard to convince you that this isn’t a Hangover duplicate, that they’ve lost sight of the real issues.

Whilst there are a number of laughs here, there are too many jokes signposted for your enjoyment. ‘Look! Kevin Bishop has a Hitler moustache and doesn’t like cheese. Look now he’s eating cheese with Hitler mustache!’ and so on. As the audience, even if we do guess what’ going to happen, we should at least be rewarded in some capacity for second guessing the creators by being able to enjoy HOW we get to the predicted punchline. The last thing we want to be able to do mouth along with the script.

There’s also a few characters that are surplus to requirements. Didn’t see Tim Draxl in the trailer? That’s because he does nothing. He doesn’t even have the dignity of being the exposition guy that signposts the jokes for you. With his character left to do nothing, but literally piss up a tree, you wonder what on earth they took out of the script to keep him in. Rebel Wilson (Bridesmaids) is equally wasted as the fake lesbian maid of honour vying for Kevin Bishop’s attention.

Where A Few Best Men does gain points is via Kris Marshall. Marshall plays Tom as the street smart, older adopted brother to Samuel and self-appointed leader of the boys. As we shamble from one set piece to the other, he maintains enough cheeky charm to keep you watching. Standing over his friends as they try to resuscitate a sheep that’s OD’d, whilst he smokes a cigarette with a broken hand, you genuinely believe that Kris has  probably done a lot worse on your normal Sunday afternoon. Whereas The Hangover‘s Bradley Cooper would probably freak out at the general commotion of dead mutton, Marshall just wants to make sure that it doesn’t get in the way of ruining his best mate’s wedding. Marshall is the charm behind this whole affair, which is not surprising when you consider he was only one that made My Family watchable.

In conclusion, A Few Best Men is not the greatest comedy in the world. It’s not even one of the greatest comedies in Australia (Hello The Castle). However, God loves a trier and when the film isn’t screaming at you like a coked-up Noel Fielding wanting you to find it funny, the natural laughs are worth it.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011)

Guy Ritchie’s original movie, Sherlock Holmes, was greeted by many a bemused person who felt that he had lynched the good name of Arthur Conan Doyle by giving us a bohemian Holmes who was an ace shot, a crack swordsman and a bare-knuckle fighter. These same people having based their opinion of Holmes solely on Basil Rathbone movies. However, it was successful  and deliberately left itself open to a sequel. Here is that sequel, Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.

Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jnr) is spending an inordinate amount of time trying to track down evidence that can lead to the arrest and capture of Professor Moriarty, lecturer, author and criminal mastermind. Upon meeting a fortune teller named Simzi (Noomi Rapace), Holmes begins a case that could lead not only to Moriarty, but also to saving civilisation as we know it. Not bad for a man who has taken to drinking formaldehyde.

Seemingly learning from criticisms of the last installment, Game of Shadows dispenses with the overly-complicated plot and, taking it’s cues from The Final Problem, becomes a merry chase across Europe.  Whilst I’m a big fan of the original, I was pleased to see the plot simplified as the original does fall down like a game of ker-plunk if you analyse it too closely. The sequel is not without it’s fault, an attempt to cover up a murder is is presented as ingenious, when in actual fact it seems like a colossal waste of manpower.

Downey Jnr and Jude Law, as Dr Watson, bounce off each other superbly, retaining the love/hate married couple relationship that made them a joy to watch before. Jared Hill is superb as Moriarty and, in comparison to Lord Blackwood from before, brings a believable villainy to role without having to chew the scenery. His dialogues with Holmes are excellent and you genuinely believe them to be two men who share awe and loathing of each other in equal measure. It’s a shame about Noomi Rapace then. Forever to be known as that woman from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo/Played with Fire/Punched a Train, Rapace becomes nothing more than window dressing and, at best, the Holmes equivalent of a Doctor Who companion. ‘What’s this Holmes?’, ‘Why that Holmes?’, ‘Look it’s the Ice Warriors, Holmes!’ etc.

Some of Guy Ritchie’s direction does grate a little. There are so many Lock, Stock moments of quick cuts it can become a tad disorientating. His overusage of slooooooooooooowing thiiiiings dooooooown before speedingupreallyquickly does become a bit of a headache, but it’s nice to see a cheeky nod to the almost infallible Holmes-O-Vision we were introduced to in Sherlock Holmes.

After the swashbuckling finale of it’s predecessor, some fans maybe disappointed with the wordy way everything is resolved in Game of Shadows. The film quite literally waves an ending in your face, before changing gears suddenly. However, I found it to be more line in with the original stories than crossing swords on top of an incomplete Tower Bridge.

A Game of Shadows will most definitely split people down the middle. It is not a film to tax your braincells, but rather a ripping yarn. Which isn’t really all that different to Holmes canon in general if truth be told.

Nosferatu (1922)

F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu is the ultimate in vampire (sorry, vampyre) movies. Yes, it’s consider as German expressionism at it’s finest and Murnau’s direction is wonderful the main reason this film is so iconic is due to it’s titular antagonist. Mak Shreck’s Nosferatu not only beats up Edward Cullen, he has off it off with Bella whilst doing it.

Nosferatu is a terrifying creation and I vividly remember being very young and running out of the living room when his face was used briefly in a TV documentary on, unsurprisingly, horror. Schrek’s performance comes down in part to his body shape. Lengthy limbs that were made for casting recognisable silhouettes on the walls of unsuspecting victims. He was a like a Doug Jones of his day. Or is Doug Jones a Max Shreck of our time? I’m drifting…

One thing that surprised me was the humour that runs occasionally crops up through the film. Now, one may argue that my humour is derived from the fact that the film can look quaint compared to today’s offerings. Well, yes… But ol’ Nossie is a bit of one for the old one liners that in no way suggest he is a vampire…

Yep, no vampires here. I’m just liking your lady’s throat. Woo, mama! That’s a jugular.

Okay, I’m not suggesting this the precursor to Dracula: Dead and Loving It, but I was surprised how much it wasn’t like the furrowed brow offering I had always thought it was.

Nosferatu is obviously one of those movies you should at least try to watch.

I don’t want to tell you to watch the whole thing. That would be pushy. I feel we’re too early in the relationship to do that. Try it for ten minutes and if you don’t like it, then go look up topless pictures of Kat Dennings as it’ll probably be a better use of your time, you uncultured swine.

Okay, that was pushy.


Dr. Who and The Daleks (1965)

Dr. Who and the Daleks is what happens when the BBC tries to make a bit money off a flagship show, but realises it’ll be a good 30 years till someone invents video. With the promise of not only starring the Daleks, but also being in colour and having Peter Cushing as the Doctor, you can see how a child of the 60s would be screaming down the house to go see it. The thing is, if we were that child we’d be punishing ourselves afterwards for even letting our parents considering to take me.

The film wastes no time in taking us straight us to a mysterious planet and getting the plot running. At a run time of only 70 minutes, it can’t afford to. Within six minutes, we’ve met Dr Who, his family (also with the surname Who), a man called Ian (played in Carry-On style by Roy Castle), the TARDIS and then, BOOM, we’re on an alien planet. You want to get straight to the point, you come to this movie. Unfortunately, the proceeding 65 minutes is filled with poor acting, terrible scripting and some fantastic conjecture. ‘No one could survive on this planet,’ says Dr Who, having only been on the planet for 30 seconds and both seeing and hearing evidence to the contrary.

So, onto the Daleks… A race of terrifying aliens… who need static electricity to move around. Which really makes them a bit quaint and, honestly, a bit shit. They mope around wanting to be released from their casings and yet these metal pre-cursors to emos managed to find time to destroy half their home planet in a war. They really are crap.

The Thals, our hero species and enemies of the Daleks, look and act like a satirical dig at the rising hippie youth of the time. All floppy hairs and clothes no doubt made from hemp, Dr Who ensures that they buck up their ideas and learn to fight. In fact, aside from impersonating William Hartnell, this is all Cushing does for the entire film. He really does seem to be phoning this one in. It will be probably come as no surprise to some that he never mentioned this, or its sequel Dalek Invasion 2168 AD, in his autobiography or anywhere else.

What we have here is not so much a Doctor Who movie, but rather a cheap sci-fi movie that’s managed to get hold of a couple of BBC licenses. And once you remove those copyrighted items, you still can’t garner any joy from it.

Love and Other Disasters (2006)

Love and Other Disasters is a spiraling, screaming pile of overly saccharine poop. I don’t think you will find a truer sentence on this blog.

Starring the late Brittany Murphy, it tells the story of a fashion designer (Murphy) and her turbulent love life in London. Living with her gay best friend, Murphy is happy to set her friends up and enjoy the life of a bachlorette, despite having sterile, by the book sex with her vile ex. Then she meets Paulo. Thinking he’s gay, she promptly tries to set him up with her neurotic housemate, not realising that he really likes…. You know what, I’m going to stop there. The more I type about the thin tissue that’s called a plot, the more I want to take an eyeball out with a spoon.

I struggle to find anything positive to say about this film. Okay, it has a gimmick whereby the characters constantly remind us and each other that this is ‘real life’ and not a ‘movie’. In fact, Murphy seems to have it as part of her contract that she recites this mantra every other sentence. They reference the rules of a romantic comedy and all the clichés that come with one. That’s right. We’re in Scream for the Bridget Jones generation. However, if it were really was clever as it wants to be, then why allow everyone’s storylines to be resolved in the formulaic fashion that they mock.

The gay stereotyping that runs through this is equally trite. ‘Ooh, gay men. They love talking about girly things with girls. Thye like soooo get girls’. Ugh. I didn’t realise people still used the term ‘gaydar’, let a lone with a straight face.

Everyone is so English and so white and so middle class, part of me wondered if this ws a giant piss take in the vein of Epic Movie et al. Richard Curtis has liteally nothing to fear from this abortion of a movie.

But let’s look at the positives. The film had an ending.

The Beaver Trilogy (2001)

The Beaver Trilogy is an unusual beast. Directed by Trent Harris it is, as the title may suggest, a trilogy of short films. None of which feature actual beavers. Okay, there’s the city of Beaver, but still… I was expecting beavers. Filmed over the course of six years, each film centres on Olivia Newton-John impersonator and seeker of fame, Groovin’ Gary; a real resident of Salt Lake City who Harris met whilst trying out a new colour news camera.

The first third introduces us to Groovin’ Gary via the footage filmed by Harris. Gary is a word a second guy slipping from one impression to the next. His desire to be famous spills out of every nervous twitch and glance at the camera. The fact that he seems so nervous makes you wonder whether he truly has what it takes or whether he’s just so excited that he sees a spur of the moment interview in a car park as his big break. Harris later goes to the titular Beaver, Utah to film Gary perform as an Olivia Newton-John tribute act in a talent contest. It’s here we see how serious Gary is to be famous.

The next two thirds are two films, again directed by Trent Harris, that take the original premise of the preceding ‘documentary’ into two different directions. The Beaver Kid 2 is a dramatic interpretation staring Sean Penn as Groovin’ Larry. Whilst Crispin Glover dons the moniker Groovin’ Larry in the comedy, The Orkly Kid.

The Beaver Trilogy is more of an art house project than a true feature film and all three movies vary in quality; literally and figuratively. As it has never had an official release due to licensing problems (DAMN YOU OLIVIA!), the main selling point seems to be seeing Crispin Glover and Sean Penn dressed up as women. To be honest, this was the main selling point of To Wong Foo as well.

For me, there’s something morbid about about it all. Groovin’ Gary’s desire to be famous has come to fruition but it seems to be at the expense of his modesty. I’m genuinely interested to know what old Gary thinks of this. And whilst I can protest the point of this film, I’m half sure that if Gary does know about this film, then he’s probably happy with the results. After all, it’s not everyone who gets Sean Penn to play them in a film.

Green Lantern (2011)

When my fellow EBFS associate and I were young, we would often play superheroes. Batman, Superman, Spiderman and even Lion-O would be the opinion formers of our young fertile imaginations. Do you know who we never pretended to be? Green Lantern. Not once. Mainly because we had never heard of in the UK. Now, over the years, I’ve picked up a few bits and pieces about Green Lantern and, if I can be honest, it never really tightened my trousers.

Green Lantern, a superhero who is one of 7,200 other members of the Green Lantern Corps who, in turn, share exactly the same powers. He’s hardly special in the wider spectrum. The anthropomorphic Howard the Duck has more individuality compared to Hal Jordan. Now, please don’t get me wrong. I’m aware Green Lantern has a dedicated fan-base. I mean, who doesn’t admire someone whose biggest weakness is Yellow. ‘Argh, look out! It’s Big Bird. I’m fucked!’ DC and Warner Brothers know this as well, which is why they’ve been pushing Green Lantern movie as being the next best thing to Christopher Reeve rising from the dead and doing another Superman movie.

Now, I’ve been a bit late to the game because Lantern’s release was held back in Australia. Not sure why, but the fact they didn’t even release it during the Winter holidays in July suggests to me they didn’t think even kids would want to see it.

The film tells the story of Hal Jordan, a fighter pilot and asshole, who is given a ring and becomes a superhero and asshole. That’s pretty much it. I really don’t know have anything else to say about the plot. The Green Lantern is by far one of the worse superhero movies since Catwoman. Wait, scratch that. Leonard Part 6. It’s that bad. Before I enjoy myself, let’s get its good points out of the way. They are:

  • The brevity of it – Under two hours is a bonus
  • The special effects – For all it’s detractors, I actually thought the special were pretty good
  • Geoffrey Rush – Who doesn’t fucking love him?!
  • Being a DC film, it’s one of the few comic book movies that doesn’t have frigging Samuel L. Jackson

What’s wrong with the film? Well, how many ways are there to leave your lover. Let’s break it down into bite-size chunks.

Ryan Reynolds/Hal Jordan
The cinema’s answer to a poor man’s impression of Bradley Cooper. ‘Buried’ showed that Reynolds can be more than a sitcom actor severely punching above his weight. As Hal Jordan, Reynolds takes the novel approach of playing our hero as the biggest douche in the universe. During a battle simulation against a couple of plane drones, Hal sacrifices his wing-man in order to beat the drones, thus preventing them from being sold and, finally, meaning that a lot of people are made unemployed. Reynolds winks, giggles and flies off. Presumably we’re meant to think ‘wow, he’s so anti-authority, I wish I were him’. Didn’t work for me. I immediately thought he was a bucked toothed, tall glass of piss tasting milk. They also try to give Hal backstory, but all this boils down to is ‘dead daddy issues’. Yawn.

Peter Sarsgaard/Dr Hector Hammond
Hector is not a bad guy name. The Joker, Venom, Green Goblin… These are bad guy names. Hector Hammond is not a bad guy name. I don’t care he was in the comic book, he sounds like an accountancy firm. And he’s so whiny… God, he’s whiny. Least there’s no kitchen fucking.

Most comic books try to establish a connection between the goody and the baddy. ‘The Green Lantern’ has no time for this. DC have decided that the chances are that if you’re in the cinema then you’re a Lantern fan and, therefore, don’t need to be told any backstory. This explains why they don’t extend on Hector and Hal’s relationship until the last half hour… Try and imagine having a conversation with a feriend in a pub. Halfway through the conversdation, your friend breaks off to have a conversation with some that’s walking past. You hear every word, but don’t understand what’s going on. You’d ask, but feel rude doing so. That’s what this film does. It makes you feel bad for wanting to know what the fuck is going on. Even the surprise ending following the credits makes no sense unless you’ve read the comics.

‘Guys, I’ve been watching the final edit and I like what I see. That whole first hour where it’s ‘Hal Jordan: An asshole in portrait’ is great. Then when you follow it up with two hours of shooting shit up… Blew my mind!’

‘Glad you liked it.’

‘The thing is.. The folks upstairs want a film that comes in under two hours. They were thinking that maybe Reynolds should step into the suit within the 20 minute mark.’

‘Gee, the asshole part is pretty intricate to the whole thing…’

‘Yeah, I know. Look it’s either that or the two hours where Green Lantern shoot shits up… I know you guys will make the right decision.’

Aaaand that is exactly why (probably) the finale is so rushed.

All in all, Green Lantern is pretty poor as comic book films go. If this works out to be a trilogy, they really need to buck their ideas up… Or just not do it. Yeah, that would be better.

*Five minutes later*

Noonan: Well, that’s that review done. Oh, look there’s that yellow ring that makes you evil. May as well put it on with no real motivation for doing so.


Noonan: Yep. Looks like I’m evil!

Nick Fury: Wanna join the Avengers?

Noonan: Yay! To the inevitable sequel!

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’s Smarter Brother (1975)

Despite my vitriol rants to the contrary, I don’t like writing bad reviews. I certainly don’t like writing bad reviews about films I was full of hope about seeing. So, let’s not say this is a bad review. Let’s say it’s a mediocre review (both in critique and quality) and if anyone says otherwise, well, I’ll probably just stick my fingers in my ears and go ‘lalalalalalallalalalalalaaa! Blah, blah, blah! Can’t hear you’.

1974’s ‘Young Frankenstein’ is one of my favourite films. Everything about it works. Mel Brooks manages to get the tone right, the jokes are spot on and the lead actors, Gene Wilder, Madeleine Khan and Marty Feldman, are never beaten. In fact, I want it confirmed here that I think Madeleine Khan is one of my favourite comedy actors. She plays it straight faced with the best of them.

Anyway, I’m beating around the bush because what I’m going to say isn’t easy for me. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’s Smarter Brother just isn’t that funny. Oh, it has its moments. Marty Feldman’s photographic hearing is a lovely little detail. Only being able to repeat what he’s heard from the very leads to a great scene as Feldman is constantly interrupted by Wilder making him a cup of tea. What could have been played with building frustration, is better for Feldman reigning it in and refusing to get angry at Wilder’s interruptions. Other highlights include Dom Deluise and Madeleine Kahn performing an opera in English and glouriously over the top.

The rest of the film suffers from the curse of zany equals funny. Too many jokes fall flat or go on too long. The ballroom scene, in particular, with Feldman and Wilder unaware their arse cheeks are hanging out should be funny. Arses are generally funny, but this scene, with added homphobia, just irks a little.

Having worked with him so much, it’s no surprise that that Wilder would emulate Mel Brooks in his directorial debut. Brooks even makes a tiny cameo. It’s just a shame this is more Dracula: Dead and Love It, than Blazing Saddles.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2 (2011)

Previously on ‘Reviewing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows‘…

‘Deathly Hallows is a tome of a children’s novel.’

‘Where the Hell do you get off? You dick!’

‘Grumpy teenager of a film.’

‘The Nick Cave bit…’

‘The Boy Who Lived…’

‘This’ll be the best Christmas Walford has ever seen.’


Excuse the theatrics, but I’m just doing what Deathly Hallows Part 2 refuses to do. Give the casual viewer a catch-up on Part 1. Nope. David Yates makes sure we hit the ground running. And by running, I mean mumbling for 20 minutes in a beach side cottage, but my point stands.

My previous review gives the sensation that I’m not a Harry Potter fan. Trust me, I am. My problem with the films is that they are so uneven. I genuinely only count three as being actually any good. Part 2 is one of those. Following the threat of more walking, Part 2 really picks up the minute we get to Diagon Alley and, from that point, very rarely lets up.

There’s a sense of maturity to this film that has definitely been missing from the others. It’s hard to put my finger on what makes me think this, which is pretty useless for a film review I know. The direction is right, the mood is right and the jokes are right. It gives me that warm fuzzy feeling I get when I watch 80s movies from my childhood.

One could go on all day about how out three protagonists work so well together, but mention should be made of Alan Rickman. A ten minute series of flashbacks showing Snape’s part in Harry’s life enforces the reasons why Rickman was chosen for more than just looking like an elderly Trent Reznor.

The climatic battle at Hogwarts is bloody without being too dark; a good blend of one-liners prevent it from being too bogged down in its own emo-ness. It’s structured so that, whilst long, you don’t lose your bearings among the chaos.

So, with all the Potter love I’m spewing, you’re probably wondering if there is actually anything wrong with it. Well, yes. The attempt to throw in numerous cameos from the previous seven films does distract from the action on screen.

‘Oh no! He’s dead. I can’t believe it… Wait, is that Jim Broadbent? It is! Oh, and there’s Miriam Margoyles!’

A big special mention has to be made to the ending… I’ve mentioned my disdain for the epilogue from the book so my heart truly sank when they decided to include it in Part 2. It’s awful. It’s like watching pre-schoolers raiding mummy’s wardrobe so they can play dress up. CGI was not invented for this. Yes, it was put in there to appease the hardcore fans, but so were the multiple endings of ‘Return of the King’. That didn’t make any more fucking right.

Long story short, Part 2 finishes the series on a high and I’m sure that Warner Brothers are happy. Now, let’s remake all Chris Columbus’s contributions and we may be onto something…