Oceans of garbage

I’m in shock.

In a Coffee Republic moblogging. (Slogan: ‘Real Coffee. Real Food. Real People.’ As opposed to what?! Ditchwater, protein pills, and Replicants? Actually, that’s a fair description of the average Starbucks…)

Which illustrates the main thrust of this blog: I’m surrounded by low-quality creative. Ads, TV, films, everything.

Ocean’s 13 is a case in point: I still can’t quite believe what I’ve just sat through. It’s as if the scriptwriters did their brainstorming sessions, wrote a script, then accidentally handed their brainstorming notes to the producer instead. This film’s got everything – characters, plot devices, gadgetry, locations – EXCEPT a desire to arrange them in any meaningful sequence.

It’s an hour of mindlessly complex exposition – Clooney, Pitt, and Damon having drinks in hotel rooms explaining what they’re going to do in the second hour – and then they spend the second hour doing it. There aren’t even words to describe how bad this is.

There are precisely two other movies that I’ve ever, almost, got up and left halfway through (‘Dreamcatcher’ and ‘Revolver’) but with Ocean’s 13 I have another. And I love cinema so much I paid to see ‘Resident Evil’… twice. Ocean’s 13 is that bad.

Now usually, if I’m sat in a cinema near a couple of noisy kids and a colicky baby, I’d have something to say to them. But in this case, they made the inutterable awfulness of what was happening up on screen a little bit better.

I woke up this morning actually feeling ok. And now the Black Dog has me firmly in its grip once more. Is this something the world is doing to me? Are Clooney and Pitt in on it? What did I ever do to them? Look, George, you were GOOD in ‘Three Kings’. Brad, I LIKED you in ‘Snatch’ (or was it ‘Lock, Stock’?). What the hell is happening here?

Even Hollywood is turning against me.

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