Earlier this week I went to see Iron Man 2: Return of Marv, and I was thrilled to find that it was, dare I say, even awesomer than the first one, which was a pretty damn cool movie to begin with. The new movie starts exactly where the previous one left off, with Tony announcing to the entire world and its cross eyed grandma that he is in fact Iron Man. What we didn't know back when he did it last time was that on the other side of the planet, in some kind of Russian country (or perhaps the actual Motherland itself, I wasn't really paying enough attention), some big evil dude who kinda looks like Mickey Rourke only with a mouthful of gold and really creepy facial hair (is there any other kind?) was watching too. Watching, cursing under his thinly-haired lip and making his plans for his very own brand of BDSM style world domination scheme. A few months later, on the slightly less icky side of the world, Tony Stark is enjoying his new role as the protector of the free world, which in his case means a bunch of hot chicks in revealing Iron Man-inspired get-ups, a gigantic horde of screaming fans, an even larger horde of chicks who'd kill to have Mr. Stark sign their bikini areas with his fleshy magic marker, lots and lots of money and one redheaded Gwyneth Paltrow, minus the fake British accent. The people high up are obviously not too happy about Iron Man stealing all the fame and glory, and so they send this pathetic, whiny-voiced senator who used to be a pathetic, whiny-voiced talk show host to make Tony surrender the Iron Man technology to the military, but Tony here is just way too cool to let anyone kill his buzz. His real problem is that the shiny thing in his chest that helps him be, like, alive, is also slowly poisoning him, which means that unless he finds an alternative power source to palladium and soon he's going to have to fly all the way to the forest moon of Pandora, and I'm not sure the Iron Man suit was designed for such a distance. Well, that is until he is faced with yet another problem in the shape of a big Russian dude with a couple of big sparkly whips that can slice a racing car in half like a big delicious stick of butter. The Russian dude claims that his dad used to work with Tony's dad, which brings out a lot of Iron Man's old daddy issues, which probably started when Stark senior cheated on his wife with Christina Hendrix back in the '60s when they both worked together in an ad agency on Madison Avenue. The evil Russian guy teams up with this evil arms industrialist who among other stuff possesses a weapon called The Ex-Wife that can do the most amazing thing I've ever seen on screen (you'll have to see it to believe it!), and together they want to pretty much render Iron Man into a fashionable tin foil hat. Could their dire plans ever work? Probably not, but their efforts are still pretty fun to watch. The cool thing about Iron Man 2 is that it is just that. Cool, and very much so. I don't see how anyone could not like Robert Downey Jr. as the fun loving, crime fighting millionaire who can just point at any voluptuous little chicklet and announce "I want one". Mickey Rourke is really good at playing big tough guys, Sam Rockwell is really good at playing total dicks and Gwyneth Paltrow is really good at playing chicks with absolutely no sex appeal. Everybody's good in it, even Hugh Hefner, who this time around plays the role of Larry King for some reason, which managed to confuse me quite a bit. I've never been a huge Scarlett Johansson fan, but I guess even she's sort OK here, mostly due to the fact that she doesn't really have too much to do here other than wear a push-up bra and look technically hot. I really like the new Marvel movies, and as long as Robert Downey Jr. can wear his mocap suit I just want to see more and more and more Iron Man sequels, as far as the eye can see!
This does absolutely nothing for me
And last week I watched The Hurt Locker on my brand new 42" FHD TV, and it was pretty boring. I mean, there was this one scene that looked kinda pretty, but it's not like it's that hard to make fire look pretty during nighttime. The best part of the movie was Evangeline Lilly's five second cameo, but she wasn't even handling a gun (I think they gave her some sort of baby instead), so the whole thing felt pretty pointless. I know I'm known for my politically correct manner, but it just goes to show you that the only people who still care about the Oscars are tards and queers.
Crap. What the hell am I going to do once Lost is over?!
And, um, finally, er, I'm sorry. Couldn't really help myself. Enjoy!
Gawd, I wish I was 3 ft. tall like Dominic Monaghan
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