So, this is going to get very disgusting very soon, and it's not for the squeamish. As most of you know (how could you not, you're all fucking stalking me), I live in Istanbul, Turkey. We have our national elections this year, and as the date approaches, a memory keeps popping into my head of 2007 when the previous national elections took place on July 22nd, the day before my birthday. The governing party, of which I am most definitely not a supporter (to put it mildly), was expected to win, but a possible coalition between the two main opposition parties was also not out of the question. After I voted, I invited my friend Rauf for a few glasses of wine and a Sunday roast to watch the results come in. It was very hot, even for a late July afternoon in Istanbul, and there was a fly buzzing around my eighth-floor apartment as I opened our first bottle. The results started to trickle in at around six, and it was a landslide for the government. Our hearts sank.
As we had our roast and depressed our tears of agony and frustration, I let the chicken cool off on the kitchen surface. Rauf could not take it anymore, he left around nine, but I kept watching, all the time, the roast on the surface. Eventually, I gathered the strength to get out of my sofa and into the kitchen, wrapped the sufficiently cool roast in foil, and put it in the fridge.
The next day, gasps and shocks of bewilderment and despair ran throughout the office, as I received a few phone calls of celebration from family and friends (okay, just family [fine, no one]). So, Monday blues, election-defeat blues, and birthday blues. What fun. At least, though, I had that roast from the day before to look forward to when I got home (I don't go out on school nights, even on birthdays).
As I nuked the chicken and the potatoes and the veggies, the talking heads on the TV were going on about how this was now a new era in Turkish politics and society, their idiotic commentary punctuated intermittently by a hearty "FUCK OFF" from yours truly. I finally sat down to eat, and took my first bite. Then the second. I nibbled on a potato, I think, and had a spoon full of peas. Then I looked down, and, as I did, a strange sight caught my eye. Something was on the move on the left breast of the chicken.
I looked closer. And, there they were: Two ravenous maggots had crawled out of their cocoons of flesh, and were gently, yet hurriedly, traversing this vast expanse of food, harbingers of their ravenous brothers who were only just waking up. There's nothing more terrifying, to me at least, than looking at one's food, and seeing on it larval insects. I gagged. I gagged again. I threw out the food in the dumpster immediately, and took out the bag and dumped it in the skip outside my building. Then I made myself vomit for an hour. This, my friends, was one of the worst experiences of my life. Well, Rob Marshall's Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides was worse.
One of the worst films of all time, On Stranger Tides has absolutely and utterly no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I wanted to say it's like watching an enema, but even that's a good thing: you get rid of the filth. Instead, here, you are force-fed shit, then made to regurgitate it, and then eat it again. It's as if you were cloned, and the clones shared the same consciousness, and then were turned into the human centipede, but instead of three, this centipede is endless. It's not so much pain, though there's that, too, but, instead, nausea.
What can I say about it? There are pirates and movie stars and ships and mermaids and whatever. Something about the Fountain of Youth. I don't know. I don't fucking care anymore. And this is not a review, anyway (I walked out of the movie, the first time I've done that since, fucking hell, Mr. Magoo). It is an exercise in free association: a collection of thoughts and feelings that I have to grapple with in the wake of a traumatic experience. Shiver me cunting timbers.
The film has no scope, no imagination, no sense of wonder. It's just a product, and it's a product for the international audiences more than the U.S. ones; like most of Hollywood's latest major product, it sets sails for these morally dubious shores. It's like a circus geek show, but instead of the geek biting the head of a chicken, in this one, he shits in your mouth.
I used to ridicule people who got worked up about a film ("It's only a movie, Ingrid," etc.), and think the grand scheme of life is much more important than two and a bit hours lost in the pursuit of entertainment. But, recently, I have started to change my mind. Everything matters. Every moment counts. Your actions can affect the very being of someone halfway across the world: the butterfly effect and all that stuff. So, to pigeonhole this film into the "yet another piece of shit from the summer" category is a disservice to the human race. I realize I am pseudo-intellectualising this to the nth degree, but it's true, nonetheless. I saw the first Pirates of the Caribbean film during a particularly bleak period of my life in Balham, South London. It made me happy and joyful and proud to be a member of our species. Smiles all around. So, if we can celebrate fluff when it's handled well, if we can champion it, if we can, fuck it, beatify it, then it's our duty to ourselves (and in fact the filmmakers), to call it out when it fails. When my fellow brethren are watching the new Terrence Malick or the new Lynne Ramsay, I have to actually pay for this shit, and then pull my punches, and go through the motions, and be content? Well, fuck that. Fuck that with fucking bells on.
What have we become? What has the Average Joe become? Generations upon generations at best made up of clueless fashionistas and at worst thoroughgoing fascists. "The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals," reduced to this. No feelings, and no connections. Everything is momentary, everything is fleeting. This is our world now: An individual's choice to earn money in a certain way and an individual's responsibility to look after themselves in their own, usually self-nurturing way are substituted by a dishonest system and its malign influence on our lives. You could say, "But thus is modern life. Suck it up." This would not be reasoning. Reasoning is for the bourgeois. People don't take to the streets and commit the necessary passionate "actions" when they are reasoning. In face of such monstrosity as this film, we need to regroup, spiritually, and get back. Take the right path.
This is not a case of good versus bad. Bad people need redemption. Average Joe undergoes clarification, realization, call it what you will, but it's not redemption. It's not conversion either. Conversion is a long-winded, difficult affair, usually involving thought, feeling, intuition, a variety of nodes of experience generally mixed with hard work: study, reading, debate. And, importantly, sudden conversions and spiritual redemption (in the Christian mold at least) are available to everyone. The theory of an eternal Chandala, the myths of inferior race or blood or, yes, entertainment, don't fit with this. So the Average Joe is, necessarily, alright to start with. Safely, one of us.
If we cannot take solace from an art form, what can we take solace from? As I tweeted that I was on my way to see the film, a friend replied to say he considered Jerry Bruckheimer a marketing genius. This is it, though, isn't it? Marketing. Products. Consumption. Joy of fucking joys. We had dreams once, we fought for liberté, égalité, fraternité. While doing that, we were supposed to be given hope and power by the arts. Now the arts have become our enemy.
I will be the first person to admit that not everything is a front in the Kulturkampf. And, as I said, indignation is an unattractive quality (the gatekeeper, it seems, to modern wisdom is indignation). But, in the words of the great Jean Luc Picard, the line must be drawn here—this far, no further! Stop fucking seeing pieces of shit like this, start demanding better from your gods. Because, if you like this film, you are a cunt.
Though I expected a dismal film, I was still eager to see this for Ian McShane. Now, I'll save my money. Unless it's playing at the drive in, in which case I can likely ignore the movie for more prurient matters.
So when are we checking out Hangover II? And Conan 3-D?
So you're saying it's better than At World's End.
Your rant matches my viewing of Rob Marshall's MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA perfectly – I consider it the worst film of all time, and have no desire to stick my head back in that particular toilet by seeing the fourth PIRATES.
Having said that, I like Gore Verbinski and I am fond of the second two POTC films for some of their baroque imagery, and I don't mind their "Bruckheimer-ness" as much as some. Verbinski has consistently shown that he can make worthwhile films – or worthwhile parts of mediocre films – out of spotty material. THE WEATHER MAN and THE RING also bear this out, and the well-received RANGO gave me some validation that I wasn't crazy/stupid for being his champion for the better part of 10 years.
Marshall, on the other hand, is a kind of soul-sucker of filmmaking. Next to him, I find JJ Abrams and Michael Bay to be avant-garde and interesting.
wow! I was NOT going to see this film, now I'm not going to see it twice! Great writing for such a scathing review!
I'm going to see this movie now just to piss you off douche bag.
This is officially the worst review of a film I have ever read. The writer begs for me to hate him. He makes no mention of any single aspect of the film itself, gives no real reason as to why it fails as a movie and instead proceeds to simply rant about his personal life and why this specific film should be blamed for the state he is in. He calls it an awful film because it has been marketed well and is nothing more than a product. Boo-hoo, that really is simply the state of the majority of films today, get used to it. Now, tell me why the proliferation of marketing ploys within the movie make it a bad movie. This is like me saying Scream 4 is an awful film because it has boys and girls being killed; well, yeah, that's the point of the film- boys and girls do get killed sometimes. I would need to say how the director doesn't accomplish sufficiently the killing of those boys and girls in a horrific/scary manner. This guy needs to, at the very least, tell me why the marketing is in and of itself a bad thing within the context of this film. Or he can tell me some of the things that are done wrong. Give me an example of why the movie lacks imagination, or why the special effects aren't convincing, or why the action isn't exciting; simply saying so IS NOT FUCKING SUFFICIENT. And then to top the whole thing off he tells the reader that if they enjoy the film they are a cunt. For the final fucking time, the enjoyment of a movie is a PERSONAL THING, not everyone is going to love or even like Rob Zombie's Halloween II, just because I did and the majority of other people didn't doesn't make me a bad person or make my opinion wrong. My opinion is my own and granted so is yours, but maybe next time you can try actually articulating what exactly your opinion is of the FILM instead of your own personal ideas.
The most embarrassing self-pretentious "piece" (and you accurately didn't call it a review) that is given credibility published here. The late Gene Siskel once said that a film critic's duty and responsibility was to even when the going got tough–to watch a film. Here, you admit you walked out of the film, all for your joyful writer's intent of simply writing a scathing piece that has no credibility precisely because you didn't bother to watch anything more than a coming attraction. (Really? A high school critic would note that a critical review or column should mention facts about a film–this has no critical evidence.)
Film may be an "art form"–that is absolutely true–but before it was an ART form, film has always had its chief purpose: to entertain. Look at any scholarly film studies book. Ask anyone that teaches film. Ask any director. The JOY of film is its key mission. If you want art–write about art. You can complain about marketing. You can complain about plot–characters–acting–writing–directing. The problem is–you don't. You don't mention any of these because you rant like a school child who has to read a book on a summer reading list that you don't want to. You pout. You cry. You swear. And in the end, you sound uneducated and lose any sense of authority by walking out of the film, ranting about film as art, and meandering off topic…
If there were more reviews like this one, and more people like Mr. Arikan, the world would be a better place.
I enjoyed your review and I think you'd enjoy "Beauty Day". Put that in yer pipe and toke it!
I really hope this guy doesn't get payed for his "JOURNALISM"
Hey, you know who has tons of credibility? The commenter who hides behind internet anonymity by not using his or her real name.
"If there were more reviews like this one, and more people like Mr. Arikan, the world would be a better place."
Agreed! I have registered on this portal solely to be able to add my opinion here: this was a superb, entertaining reading, thank you, mister! All the debate about The Holy Grail Of Journalism ain't worth shit (we have this going on in my country too), because in the end, it's either good to read an article because it GIVES something to the reader – or it's bad. And if it's bad, I don't care who has written it and which golden rules of the How To Write A Review Bible it follows if it happens to be just an annoying, predictable, dull review with ready-made expressions and thousand years old jokes (of which the internet is full).
Instead, here we got original thoughts (a rare thing!), witty jokes and a bonus flavor of personality that was interesting even though I didn't know anything else about the author previously. So?
Bring it on, mister!
Oh, Ari…you had me at "…how could you not, you're all fucking stalking me". What a pretentious load you're devolving into. I've actually saw merit in some of your previous reviews ("Avatar" for one) but you're not even trying here. Did someone actually pay you to write this self-important diatribe? While you surely weave a vivid tapestry with melancholic "bourgeois" ruminations on political foibles paired with ever-so-much class of maggots and vomit. I gotta admit…that is quite the tasty dish you just served us.
And speaking of shit on a plate (See? Wow, I can use profanity, too! And pair it with "clever" segues even! Yippeeeee, mother fucker!), I find it ironic that you decry lack of originality and substance in "Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides" (in specific) and in the state of modern cinema (in general), but yet yourself have neglected the same criteria in your article. And yes… I do realize that you did state that this was not a "review"…. but then what exactly WOULD you call it? Beside bellyaching and whining and self-mastrabatory "pseudo-intellectualizing" (as you freely admit)…
For the record, and if anyone may have wondered, I have NOT seen the movie in question yet. The author of the article could have been discussing the Justin Beiber movie for all I care…. the specific film in question isn't as important as this knob's (Ari? Still with me, buddy?) need to air his litany of grievances in a forum meant for serious discussion on film reviews. Your article is an avante garde hack piece meant to malign an director you apparently don't like (nor respect) and is based on an incomplete viewing. You should have "manned-up" and stuck it out at least until the end of film; at least then you could have more legitimate fodder to sling back in your tear-down article on Capitalist evils inherent in Hollywood filmmaking. Instead you gave a half-assed effort in research and given a half-assed review and now we are left looking at a whole ass….you, my friend.
So,….where can I get back the time I lost having to read (and respond) to your so-called article? Where do any of us who have real jobs and short amounts of free time go for a real review to save us time and money. Certainly not to you, my friend….
For what it's worth, this is the best review of a major studio release I have read all year. And it ain't even a review! That's the beauty part.
And also, what virtualdog said: All the debate about The Holy Grail Of Journalism ain't worth shit (we have this going on in my country too), because in the end, it's either good to read an article because it GIVES something to the reader – or it's bad. And if it's bad, I don't care who has written it and which golden rules of the How To Write A Review Bible it follows if it happens to be just an annoying, predictable, dull review with ready-made expressions and thousand years old jokes (of which the internet is full).
Damn straight! We are supposed to submit to the vulgarity and coporate totalinarianism of these movies in a calm and analytical fashion? Pfft.
Jamie, I'm dying to see Rango. I always liked Verbinski, who has some Spielberg chops when it comes to scene-making. All the Pirates movies are overlong and overproduced, but he did give them visual wit that reminds me of the old, lower-budget Terry Gilliam and the gorgeously flimsy '80s swashbuckler Nate and Hayes.
I have mixed feelings about this review. I suspect I would agree wholeheartedly with Mr. Arikan’s review in theory. The Pirates of the Caribbean’s series has deteriorated into unwatchable filth matched only by the Transformers series. But this review feels like the rantings of a petulant child. Clean up the language and asses the qualities of the movie that made it so bad. Your comparison of the film to disgusting things, is admittedly funny, but it doesn’t explain why the film fails as entertainment.
http://fastfilmreviews.wordpress.com/
What I hate most about this wank fest of an article is the fact that Ali thinks it is insightful and clever. It may as well be telling us that Rebecca Black's Friday video is terrible. Really? A big dumb action filled Hollywood summer movie is bad? No Way! Get over yourself ass hole.
Nicolas Cage, I loved you in Bad Lieutenant, but you completely missed the spirit, tone and purpose of this piece.
I take Ali to mean that the general cavalier attitude about such soul-smashing, world-dominating products is like being dismissive of the carcinogens in cigarettes. It's like, "Yeah, I know we're digesting toxic shit but–" No! No "but"! Not this, the 1,000,000,000,000th time around.
It's understandable that you'd be upset that a mere blog entry attacks the work of your homeboy Bruckheimer, who has helped expand your wealth immeasurably, but something's got to give with all these colossal, violent, empty corporate pageants. As the empire falls, we deserve something better for our dwindling dollar. Take a look at the true face of your audience:
http://linhdinhphotos.blogspot.com/
Do these people look like they deserve more clanking, glittering bullshit? Nah, man. They deserve to be lifted up, not endlessly pandered to so that y'all can get at their thin wallets. That's what I take from Ali's rant. He might rail at the consumer to have more self-respect, but I rail at y'all who actually produce this stuff.
(It's fun to pretend that this is really Nicolas Cage. Ya never know.)
Just as the maggots in Ali's food derailed his attempt to comfort himself after a devastating political defeat, the mass of disaffected and disenfranchised out there turn to you Ho'wood chaps for some small measure of solace, and all you give us (most of the time) is a good reason to feel stupid and lost– with jokes and explosions. It wasn't always this way.
There be spoilers below…
I have to say I find your non-review more irritating than this movie, which I grant you is a lumbering thing. The reason is, you didn't watch all of it, nor did you pay the slightest attention to the luminous Johnny Depp and the arc of his character, Captain Jack. Ironic really, since you pretend to have much in common with Captain Jack, who I'd wager has faced down a plate or two of maggots in his time.
Jack does not once seek out the Fountain of Youth, i.e., the chimera, the MacGuffin, the Dingus, the flaming BS that is all you believe this movie to represent. Well, other than for sake of his admittedly annoying love. (Captain Jack has a history of striking out with the ladies, does he not? But he tries, yes he does.)
No, he is literally shanghaied into the quest. When he pulls out his compass of the heart, which shows him the way to his true will, it never points to the Fountain, does it? He's there for the adventure, he even speaks it: it's not the destination, it's the journey. OK, so that's nowhere near as stirring as "bring me that horizon" but he is who is, and hasn't changed. He does the best he can in absurd and dangerous circumstances, and prevails always by being true to himself. He says so at the end, walking with his hopes in a bottle: It's the pirate's life for me.
There are many ways in which you can say this film fails, and I will grant that the subversive message being sent to your "Average Joe" is a bit hard to find in all the CGI… but it remains at the heart of the franchise in the form of Captain Jack. Yo ho, yo ho… rock on, Captain.
*applause* I just never got 'Pirates', I don't get Depp (the plastic Mr Actoid) and I never thought anyone could accurately express some of my thoughts on the matter – until this…
Now will you please find an apt insect metaphor for Kylie, Cruise and The Strokes?
peace
Martin
new-york-is-dead.com
This would be a lot easier to take seriously if you hadn't put 'I kissed a girl' in your top ten best songs of 2008, cunt.
This is one of the most delicious p̶i̶e̶c̶e̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶c̶r̶i̶t̶i̶c̶i̶s̶m̶ rants I've read in many months! Thank you soooo much! I suspect that when I see the film, I'll largely agree with you. But, paradoxically, reading it just made me want to see it all the sooner! Then again, I also am fascinated with maggots.
LOVE your comparison that starts with an enema & ends with a Caterpillar of clones. Also liked "Generations upon generations at best made up of clueless fashionistas and at worst thoroughgoing fascists." Keep up the smart writing!