FILM REVIEW: Prometheus

Directed By: Ridley Scott

Written By: Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof

Starring: Noomi Rapace as Elizabeth Shaw, Logan Marshall-Green as Charlie Holloway, Michael Fassbender as David, Charlize Theron as Meredith Vickers, Idris Elba as Janek

Alien, the groundbreaking 1979 sci-fi film that launched hitherto relatively unknown and infamously “difficult” director Ridley Scott to critical darling status and inevitable worldwide recognition, is the obvious point of comparison for this film in more ways than one. Prometheus is not only an oblique prequel to the aforementioned film; it is an uninspired, uninteresting, underdeveloped rip-off that incorporates all the elements that made Alien work and turns them all to a commercialized, shapeless mass of shit while often being completely ridiculous in the process.

Elizabeth Shaw, the quasi-protagonist of Prometheus (and “quasi” is apt because Shaw is so lacking in depth and personality that Charlize Theron’s Vickers often eclipses her with the sheer power of her hard-faced badassery), is essentially an unrealistic, nonsensical variation of Ellen Ripley from Alien. What makes Ripley beautiful (OMG 1D SHOUTOUT YO VAS HAPPENIN NIALL HORAN ZAYN MALIK LIAM PAYNE HARRY STYLES AND THAT GUY YOU KNOW THE OCCASIONALLY FUNNY ONE? I LOVE YOU ALLLL) is firstly her relatability as a silenced woman and as a realistic human being and more significantly the fact that her strength is inexorably linked to her vulnerability and humanity. When she finds the Alien onboard her aircraft during the ending sequence of Alien, she doesn’t grab an axe and nonsensically style herself as a fearless heroine (as Shaw does); she visibly struggles to suppress her fear and remain calm as she finds the most practical way to escape and/or get rid of the Alien. In Aliens, she doesn’t hop onboard Dwayne Hicks’ ship just because an overwrought sense of morality compels her to prevent more deaths; she hops onboard because she is deeply haunted by the specter of her own horrific experiences from Alien and understands that confrontation is necessary for exorcism; ultimately, her heroic journey is a selfish (and therefore humane and believable) one. On top of this, she sets out with a squad of highly trained soldiers and a shitload of weapons — a smart metaphor that expounds on her thinly concealed fear. Shaw, on the other hand, hops onboard an alien ship to a hostile land at the end of Prometheus in a self-consciously heroic bid to FIND THE ANSWERS TO HUMANITY and FOR THE GREATER GOOD, with nothing but the decapitated remains of a morally nonsensical android that killed her lover and that nearly killed her. And what’s even more ridiculous is that Shaw does all this without breaking down even once and after:

1) Witnessing the death of her lover.

2) Witnessing the death of her ENTIRE CREW.

3) Enduring a caesarian section WITHOUT AN ANESTHESIA STRONG ENOUGH TO KNOCK HER OUT; after which, mind you, she simply flings herself into danger once more (because, I suppose, the movie has already claimed her as its protagonist and WE NEED TO TORTURE HER WITH EVEN MORE THINGS LIKE UM A SUPER-STRONG ALIEN-SPAWNING UBER HUMAN? SOUNDS CRAY BUT HEY IT MIGHT WORK LULZ).

4) Realizing multiple times that hostile aliens aren’t exactly welcoming of their lowly creations (one might think that trying to infect the earth with poorly designed squids would convey a similar message BUT).

Jesus fucking CHRIST. Even Ripley sleeps for 60 years (give or take a few) after all that action in Alien. A person can only take so much, no? For a movie that so fiercely (and quite ineptly) defends the superiority of the human race, it seems painfully ironic that the most human character in the movie is a sleepless, reckless eternal survivor that has the emotional capacity of …dare I say…AN ANDROID? Speaking of…

While the Android in Alien was programmed to capture and preserve the eponymous creature, the android in Prometheus, David, is programmed to be a servant with a mind of its own (when it’s not masquerading as the inexplicably vengeful surrogate son of an antiquated billionaire, of course). Now, I’m not against robot autonomy; I think robots (as seen in sci-fi films) are often more capable of doing the ‘right thing’ than humans are, and I will fight to my death their right to be unwitting deliverers of dry humor. The problem, though, is that David’s actions are never quite explained; instead of skillfully creating an air of mystery or crafting a tantalizing enigma of a character, his impenetrability just comes across as the lazy product of half-assed scriptwriting. At first, it seems as though he is an uninspired re-hash of the Ash character from Alien, in that he has some hidden agenda (his creepy “DOESN’T EVERY CHILD WANT TO KILL HIS PARENTS” line — presumably stolen from some classic film — is a giveaway, along with the fact that um…HE KILLS HOLLOWAY AND NEARLY KILLS SHAW) that places higher on his categorical priority list than the safety of his human crew. After the Engineer kills everyone, however, he suddenly has a ‘change of heart’ and devotes his remaining screentime to helping Shaw survive. The problem is, HE CAN’T POSSIBLY HAVE A ‘CHANGE OF HEART’; HE’S A “SOUL”-LESS ANDROID. Or if the point was that he actually does have a soul, then there is a major continuity error, because the androids in all 4 Alien movies, on which Prometheus depends on for meaning, DON’T. Hence, one can only presume that perhaps it was his curiosity, his undying desire to understand his creators’ creators and thus his place in the world, that fueled his actions. This kinda makes sense, except it really fucking doesn’t: why would he style himself as a villain midway through the movie when he ominously hints at his desire to kill Weyland, mocks Shaw’s ‘survivor instincts’ and hide his involvement in Holloway’s death? Even if his murder of Holloway was a by-product of his curiosities, there would be no need to hide his involvement unless there was a greater, more sinister agenda — something that provides much of the tension in the film. Instead with dealing with these logical deductions, Prometheus, like every half-baked commercial piece of shit, just stirs up the tension, stirs up the ambiguity, provides a shitload of crashes and violence, then just ends. Without explanation. Fucking A. On top of being an inconsistent and often just absurd, David also perpetuates the worn, unjustified myth of human superiority; for once, why can’t an Android be the good guy who tries to save the day, and whose moral programming actually makes him understandably ‘better’ than his human counterparts? Why can’t the beauty of humanity lie in their utter flawed-ness rather than in their STRENGTH and PERSEVERANCE and whatnot? Furthermore, in making David the antagonist-of-sorts, Scott and his writers also cement Prometheus‘ status as an Alien rip-off: Alien too has an Android, whose moral questionability ultimately causes shit to happen and whose death predictably glorifies humans as a superior kind. For once, can somebody just do something fearless, celebrate our flaws rather than our strengths, and move pass this silly ANDROIDS VS HUMAN war? It’s getting old, and in a world where there are uber-humans and metallic alien-things, doesn’t anybody else feel like the android thing is becoming a tad trivial? Well, I know I do and I’m writing this review so HAH.

Obviously, the script is extremely heavy-handed; its symbolic gestures aim too haphazardly for epicness and triumph without the philosophical depth promised by the mythology-referencing title, its twists are executed so awfully and so gracelessly that they come across as unwitting bursts of self-caricaturing, and its characters are too shallow to be even remotely relatable.

The first criticism is an obvious one; the film is primarily about THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION MANKIND HAS EVER ASKED (or so the film self-importantly claims): WHERE DOES MANKIND COME FROM? The death of the crew mirrors the price that Prometheus, the mythical Greek trickster who stole fire from the Gods and gave it to Man, paid for stepping beyond his means. Shaw’s triumph and indomitable strength is an obvious declaration of human endurance and is a twist on the original mythical tale in that Shaw overcomes the punishment of the Gods (represented by the Engineers) and instead of allowing herself to be beaten down by them, she challenges them head-on. All this is undoubtedly is very wonderful, and I’m always a fan of intertextual parallelisms; but the cardinal problem is that, absurdity and inhumanity aside, there is no exploration of the moral dilemmas and philosophical implications that the Prometheus tale has, especially in relation to contemporary science. Sure, science mirrors mankind’s attempt to harness the power of the Gods; that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? What of the relationship between the Engineers and Humans? What happens to belief? (Shaw’s reply that SOMEONE MUST’VE CREATED THEM seems rather weak) How do we reconcile HUMANS ARE SUPERIOR TO ANDROIDS with HUMANS ARE POTENTIALLY SUPERIOR THAN ENGINEERS? How do we see ourselves in relation to God with these newfound sociological epiphanies? Are we still just HUMAN BEINGZ or are we soulless like the Android humans have created in their image? There are just so many questions that are answered very sloppily, or worse still, not answered at all — presumably left to a sequel, maybe — or perhaps just left out completely. In any case, in terms of depth, this film is deeply unsatisfactory.

One of the worst twists in the film is the revelation that Vickers is Weyland’s daughter. It seems genuinely sad that so much time was wasted to expound on the NEGLECTED DAUGHTER OVERSHADOWED BY MORE CAPABLE ANDROID BROTHER complex without cleverly posing this as a possible explanation as to why the Engineers abandoned humans. It also seems like an unnecessary complication, especially when Vickers is abruptly and needlessly (maybe Charlize Theron’s asking pay is too high for the sequel? Or maybe Ridley Scott just doesn’t like South Africa. Or Monster) killed off at the end. The “FATHER” acknowledgment also seems like an unwitting, self-serious Star Wars reference, which I find particularly hilarious. I’ll skip all the David twists, all of which are equally deplorable. The ending twist in which Shaw inexplicably survives what feels like the millionth near-death experience in an endlessly sadistic exercise in torture-porn is also quite unbelievable. One can only ALMOST DIE so many times before it gets exponentially ridiculous. My opinion: She should’ve run out of luck ever since escaping the live caesarian. If Vickers had survived instead of Shaw, it would’ve been much more believable, and it also would’ve been much more interesting considering Vickers would make a much more complex character for further exploration in successive sequels. Instead, Ridley Scott and his team of subpar writers repudiate believability for THE EPICNESS OF WATCHING SHAW OVERCOME A BILLION OBSTACLES IN TRIUMPHANT PROOF OF HUMAN MAGNIFICENCE…which is, with due respect (because Ridley Scott often makes very wonderful films), vomit-inducing.

None of the characters have any personality except for Vickers. Holloway and Shaw’s relationship is obviously a marvelous opportunity to explore both the characters, but in the true spirit of commercialized superficiality, Scott eschews all stabs at depth for an extended, vacuous sequence involving a sweaty, semi-naked Logan Marshall-Green and lots of heavy breathing. I don’t remember any of the other crew members, except occasionally that black guy who somehow manages to snag Charlize Theron’s naked body with sheer charm (and a stubby variant of an accordion); they often deliver charismatic lines packed with sarcastic bite, but unlike true masters of humor like Diablo Cody, Sofia Coppola or even Joss Whedon, the humor never becomes more than just that: humor. The writers are unable to crack jokes that at once explore their characters and provide some much-needed fun, and given the relatively small screentime allocated to casual conversation (or alternatively, the extensive use of silence), the characters naturally suffer and become no more than two-dimensional puppets whose only purposes are to be occasionally funny and to frequently die to make Shaw seem like the oh-so-strong survivor.

There are only two things that make Prometheus worth watching, neither of which are truly engrossing. The first thing is Michael Fassbender’s (whose name, amidst a sea of smirks and giggles, incidentally invokes gay sex) deceptively vacant performance as David, an impenetrable puzzlebox of an android. Despite a confused script, Fassbender *smirks/giggles* delivers some great one-liners and leaps nimbly between moral ambiguity and sinister coolness without ever once threatening to seem inconsistent or uneven — although it really isn’t quite as INCREDIBLE as everyone makes it out to be. The second thing, quite characteristically, is the incredible visuals. The opening sequence is particularly stunning. Also, the cave sequences and the juxtaposition with static-filled computer screens (omg didn’t this shit grow old since Scott used it in Alien?) are quiet, dark, wonderful and brimming with tension — although admittedly these are all things that Scott had already perfected with Alien. Stylistically, it really adds nothing groundbreaking and pretty much comes across as a re-hash of what made Alien work, except it does so with more flash and less punch (the climactic scene in which two fools fuck around with the snake-alien-thing would’ve been truly remarkable if it wasn’t A BLATANT RIPOFF OF THE CHESTBURSTER/FACEHUGGER SCENES FROM ALIEN).

If you’ve never watched Alien or Aliens, or if you’ve watched them and disliked them for their SLOW PACE or just for being too damn awesome, then I definitely recommend this film. If you’ve watched the Alien film(s), though, you’d be so much better of just re-watching them. In any case, who wouldn’t want to watch Sigourney Weaver blow up an entire alien colony? Okay; Mitt Romney, maybe. But really, who wouldn’t??

KevinScale Rating: 2.2/5 (Because it’s too insulting to the Alien classics and to the world in general to pass, but at the same time it is quite entertaining sometimes haha)

Also, the aircraft here looks insultingly like the Firefly class ship from Joss Whedon’s cult classic Firefly. MORE ORIGINALITY POINTS. No? Oh.

FILM REVIEW: The Avengers

Directed/Written By: Joss Whedon

Starring: Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark/Iron Man, Chris Evans as Steve Rogers/Captain America, Scarlett Johansson as Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow, Jeremy Renner as Clint Barton/Hawkeye, Mark Ruffalo as Bruce Banner/The Hulk, Chris Hemsworth as Thor, Tom Hiddleston as Loki, Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury, Cobie Smulders as Maria Hill

Joss Whedon, <<G-O-D>> among sci-fi/fantasy geeks, eternally immortalized as <<T-H-E>> primary creative force behind eternally immortal cult classic Buffy The Vampire Slayer and perennial creator of too-brilliant-not-to-be-cancelled-and-thereafter-mourned-by-small-but-almost-disturbingly-dedicated-legions-of-fans shows like Angel, Firefly and Dollhouse, returns to piloting the big screen with his second full-length feature film, no less than seven years after producing some-say-the-best-sci-fi-film-of-all-time Serenity, and with no less than 5.5 times of that film’s budget (That’s USD220 million, poor pplz). And btw guyz, when I say that Joss Whedon has returned, I fucking mean that he has returned, because The Avengers is without a doubt one of the smartest, wittiest summer blockbusters in, like, the history of the galaxy. The best superhero movies (I refer to Spider Man 2 and The Incredibles) move at brisk paces, but are sensitive enough to take the time to explore their characters’ psychology. More importantly, they understand that expensive CGI shots and loud crashes don’t mean shit by themselves; they must consistently reflect the inner workings of the film’s characters and/or provide logical plot cues to avoid becoming aimless exercises in gratuitous visual flash. As with his best works, Whedon demonstrates here that he’s undeniably got this shit down. And what’s wonderful about Joss Whedon is that he would never stop with just making a good-for-a-genre-film; he is one of those rare, potentially legendary (and not just among cult classic geeks) action film directors that are at once fiercely feminist, effortlessly witty and at his best, psychologically profound and fearlessly subversive — and much of these qualities are quite palpable here. As with all of his works, however, The Avengers also suffers from glaring inconsistency issues and problematic screwball throwaways in terms of characterization.

The best characters here work because of their psychological complexity. Tony Stark is an egoistic shitball who hides his innate heroism behind smart-mouthed witticisms and fuck-the-team coolness and Natasha Romanoff is a sentimental fuzzy-wuzzy who convincingly encases herself in a jet-black shell of cold indifference and overwrought intellectualism. Even Nick Fury, who arguably has the least opportunities for character development, is shrouded by moral ambiguity. He pontificates and motivates on the grounds of morality and humanity, but at the same time is responsible for creating weapons using the very device he so claims should not be used as a weapon. Naturally, the worst characters are those that do not have a convincing backstory, and that do not have actual psychological depth.

Whedon’s use of The Hulk, for one, is particularly exploitative and contrived. When Loki suggests that he plans on unleashing The Hulk, a big ass fuss is kicked up about HOW DANGEROUS THE HULK IS and HOW UNSTABLE BANNER’S CONTROL OVER THE HULK IS. Whedon even inserts a fight between The Hulk and Thor to expound on the dangers of not keeping Banner’s temper under wraps. Yet, at the most crucial moments of the film, Banner suddenly manages to become The Hulk AT WILL, then displays remarkable team player co-operativity? Disregarding that little incident where The Hulk very nearly smashed Scarlett Johansson’s impossibly pretty face in (which btw immediately seems like a sad echo of Angel‘s “Billy”), there is only one other scene that corroborates his incoherence (the one where The Hulk beats everyone up, then nonchalantly punches Thor squarely in the face), but frustratingly enough, that scene is used purely for comic relief, and fails to expound satisfactorily on the ‘uncontrollable danger’ element that The Hulk brings, and that was so pervasive in the first half of the film. This convenient conversion of The Hulk from Loose Cannon That Could Potentially Kill Everyone to Really Strong Green Guy Who Fights For The Team Yo is an inexcusable plot hole that insults both Mark Ruffalo’s marvelous turn as a self-alienating geek, and the psychological complexity on which Whedon’s legacy is predicated on. Also, I find this inconsistency particularly baffling because Whedon handled a very similar character called River in Serenity, who was visibly unstable for much of the movie before rising too at the film’s most crucial moment to become the answer to everyone’s problems. The difference, however, is that Whedon made a solid effort in Serenity to show how River’s love for her dying brother allowed her to overcome her mental instability and harness her powers for the team; with The Hulk, Whedon just makes him smash shit up and prays that everyone is too distracted to notice.

Loki, with his superficial, uninspired daddy issues and little brother complex, makes for a very silly, flat villain. The scene where The Hulk throws him around and leaves him whimpering in Tony Stark’s office, while wildly comical, is particularly disgusting. It immediately, cruelly dismisses Loki as a joke, and decisively prevents any attempt at sympathy. The best villains (Magneto and Rogue from X-Men are particularly wonderful character studies) are those that we sympathize with for their experiences, that we identify with for their humanity, but that we disagree with for their hatred and destructiveness. I doubt Loki even understands what being human means — he’s too busy moping about not having legions of humans bowing down to him.

Captain America and Thor are both rather weak character studies too. Steve Rogers is a soldier attempting to reconnect to an unfamiliar world in the only way he knows how; by fighting. The premise undoubtedly makes for a very interesting character study, so moments like Coulson’s fangurling or when Rogers gets frustrated with Stark’s quips that Whedon could’ve used to expound on his sense of alienation and loneliness and disillusionment — but doesn’t — are particularly frustrating. Action movies are all about imbuing every possible scene with as much depth as possible, especially since the pace is so often obstructive towards character studies. Unfortunately, Whedon, probably because of creative distrust among corporate superiors demanding for more action and less talk, doesn’t manage to flesh out his supporting characters quite as well or as sensitively as he does on Serenity or Buffy. In Whedon’s defense, one must realize that I’m only super critical of this movie because I have nothing but respect and love for Joss Whedon, who at his best embodies character-driven action film at its best, and thus must be judged on an entirely different rubric.

On a related side note, Whedon’s Avengers sequel (I’m assuming he’s gonna be in charge again because the reviews for The Avengers have been almost uniformly excellent, and the box office showings have been record-breakingly good), which he proclaims will be “darker”, “more painful” and “organic”, will undoubtedly be a dramatic shift from this film’s screwball superficiality and light-humored expedience, and thus will be infinitely more satisfying in terms of character development and as an entirety. After all, Whedon works best when he repudiates convention and expectation and dives headfirst into his characters (Buffy‘s “The Body”, which eschews the show’s monster-of-the-week format for a hauntingly accurate exploration of loss and death, is one of the best TV episodes ever broadcasted). Besides, he is almost notorious for having bumpy starts (Dollhouse took an entire season to become something truly remarkable) when it comes to any of his projects, so I think it’ll be fascinating to see the direction that The Avengers goes once it really takes off; because if you think you’ve seen the best of Joss Whedon in this film, gurrrrl you ain’t seen shit.

Problems aside, this film is a loving compilation of Whedonesque conventions and a characteristically self-indulgent homage to the best moments of his TV shows. Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill are both Whedonesque staples, in that they are both variations of Gwen Raiden from Angel and Zoe Washburn from Firefly/Serenity, both of whom are tough chick archetypes hardened by life and injustice but with instinctive warmth and compassion for people in danger. Romanoff’s sense of self-awareness and her exploitation of the myth of female emotional tractability is reminiscent of Fred from Angel, while Hill’s indomitable hardness is immediately reminiscent of Illyria from the same show. In almost every summer blockbuster, there is this stupid misogynistic desire to throw women around the room and have them all bloodied up and tortured in anticipation of a dramatic entrance by a muscly male character that inevitably does all the rescuing hero-type shit. In Whedon’s movies, things turn out very differently. When Romanoff is offered to be rescued by her male colleague while being tortured, she basically tells him to fuck off because she’s ‘busy working’. When Captain America offers to help her kill the crazy alien people, she wryly tells him that she can handle herself; and it’s not like she has superpowers or anything — she’s just that badass. Hill is pretty kickass too. In fact, nobody even bothers to offer her help. That close-up with her bloodied nose and bleeding forehead after she kills the last of Loki’s flunkies on the island-jet thing? Priceless. Tony Stark here immediately recalls Topher from Dollhouse, Wash from Firefly and Xander from Buffy, in that he visibly doubles up as Whedon’s in-movie substitute by snagging all the über-intelligent zany, epigrammatic quips and providing all the wry smart-assery in the midst of overbearing pressure and danger. Most of the breathtaking action scenes here are highly reminiscent of Whedon’s previous works too. Joss Whedon is notorious for being self-indulgently (and self-knowingly) egoistic, so I’m guessing Whedonites everywhere know what I mean when I say that there is this invisible but palpable sense of creative glee in the blatantly self-referential ego romps. When Loki destroys SHIELD’s research facility, the ground gives way and the buildings are swallowed whole, something that was done (albeit at a much smaller scale) almost nine years ago in the Buffy season finale “Chosen”. The inter-dimensional portal that opens and allows crazy alien things to enter and wreck havoc on earth is also something that made an appearance in Buffy‘s “The Gift” and Angel‘s “Not Fade Away”. It’s certainly not a coincidence that the most iconic scenes from the season finales (Buffy had two, technically speaking) of his most popular shows are featured here. What it is…is a characteristically Whedonesque exercise in masturbatory glee.

Whedon has always had a predilection for socially and politically-driven subtext, and The Avengers finds his knack for social commentary more refreshing than ever. In an age of Wikileaks when the absoluteness of corporate authority and governmental suppression can no longer be justifiably dismissed as a myth or half-baked conspiracy theory, the notion of The Avengers as a group of ‘remarkable people’ pushing for change and working towards a better world seems all the more pertinent. Corporate metaphors have been a constant leitmotif in Whedon’s past works (The Alliance in Firefly/Serenity, Wolfram & Hart in Angel, Rossum Corporation in Dollhouse), but they always feel like a representation of the greater epic struggle between Good and Evil. In light of the recent wave of political upheaval and social protests, Whedon’s obsession with corporate authority and its struggle against the ambitions and humanity of normal people finds new political depth and social relevance. I mean, if you think about it: it is no coincidence that The Avengers are led by Tony Stark and Captain America, two ordinary humans bolstered by extraordinary human inventions — metaphors for the extraordinary human capacity for greatness. Thor may be an ‘immortal’ demi-God, but while he stands comfortably (well, not so comfortably, actually) on earth casting lightning into the portal to alien worlds beyond, it is Tony Stark, egoist extraordinaire and godless sinner, that offers his life as a sacrifice and that truly saves the day. The true champions of this film are the seemingly petty humans in denial of their own heroism (Stark, Romanoff, Banner) and on the unlikely heroes ignorant of their own frailty (Coulson, and that particularly wonderful old man that stood up to Loki); do not think for a second that this is not a concealed social statement.

Oh and I almost forgot. THE MANLY HOMOEROTICISM. Joss Whedon knows a beautiful man when he sees one *the world looks pointedly at Chris Evans’ enormous pectorals* and characteristically the first thing he does is make sure that other men in his films know it too.

In an interview almost as old as time itself, Whedon once famously proclaimed that he created Buffy to kick major supernatural ass in protest of the frustrating cliché of the helpless-woman-in-the-alley who gets killed by the Big Bad. Needless to say, much of his career has been built on his predilection for turning conventions on their heads. In The Avengers, many of the characters (especially Bruce Banner, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers) have rich backstories (that are explored, often with startling insight, in their respective comic book series) that simply beg the writer to make them into tortured souls unable to see past their own pettiness and sadness — and Joss Whedon has on numerous occasions even demonstrated his love for such characters (RE: Harmony and Angel in Angel).

But he doesn’t do that here.

Instead, he tells us all the reasons why his characters are decidedly, painfully human. He tells us all the reasons why his characters have every prerogative and every reason to act like any ordinary, petty person. Then what does he do? He tells us that in spite of all the reasons why we should be allowed to stay ordinary, sometimes the reasons don’t matter at all. Sometimes all that matters is that we are given extraordinary gifts: and if those gifts allow us to make a change, if those gifts allow us to make the world better, then that’s what we should fucking do.

Also the action sequences are totez kickass 4realz homies.

KevinScale Rating: 4.2/5

IMPORTANT FACT #1: Immortalizing The Immortal On Joss Whedon’s Perennially Underrated Albeit Admittedly Painfully Inconsistent “Angel”

Amy Acker’s performance in Angel‘s Season 5 Episode 15 “Hole In The World” is one of the greatest performances in the history of TV, and if you don’t know what I’m talking about you need to fucking reflect on how you are spending your life.

There are no words to describe the pretentiousness of this post’s title. Except ‘pretentious’ I guess. LOLZ.

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Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!

The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!

The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy!

Everything is holy! Everybody’s holy! Everywhere is holy! Everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s an angel!

The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! The madman is holy as you my soul are holy!

The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!

Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the HIDEOUS HUMAN ANGELS!

Holy forgiveness! Mercy! Charity! Faith! Holy! Ours! Bodies! Suffering! Magnanimity!

Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

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