... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Thursday, March 01, 2012

534: The Muppets

Last night we saw The Muppets. It was hilarious. Very good. That's my film review. I liked it; it was funny; it was touching, heart-warming, made with obvious genuine love and affection. Written by and starring the guy from How I Met Your Mother (the one who is married to Willow from Buffy, now she's grown up and no longer a witch... or gay), a little guy with soft skin, a super cute woman who I am told was in Enchanted (a dreadful Disney-princess-ends-up-in-'real-life'-New-York-oh-dear-how-will-she-cope flick), and a bunch of puppets I recognise from somewhere or other.

And there's an 'ilarious cameo from Sheldon (the best/only good character) out of The Big Bang Theory. His cameo isn't actually funny, just surprising, and we only laughed cos we like him. If you don't like Sheldon you'll wonder what I'm on about. Last thing: there is a definite hint of Flight of the Conchords about the songs in The Muppets. Another reason to see it. (I've just noticed Bret McKenzie from Flight... is Musical Supervisor. I don't know what that involves but probably accounts for the flavour I tasted.)

Need another reason to see The Muppets? Well, before the main feature there is a brand new animated short Toy Story mini-adventure about unwanted Happy Meal-style toys from a fast food restaurant. It's called Small Fry. Was it funny? I pissed myself... figuratively, obviously. There is a blinding array of pant-pissingly funny little toys with funny little names and funny little actions. I wept from both ends... with laughter.

It wouldn't do right to give too much of either film away on the off chance that I might ruin a joke. David Mitchell recently warned of the dangers of ruining something by giving it too much praise, so I'll shut up and get back to doing whatever it was I was doing before I started writing this post. Watching Deadwood. Oh, my fucking god: Deadwood. The best TV series ever, bar none. It's perfect, fucking perfect... Amen.

And in the car on the way home I wrote a joke:

What imperial weight of building material directs movies?
I don't know, what imperial weight of building material directs movies?
Timber Ton...

It's Tim Burton, innit. It needs some work.

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