V for Vendetta (2006)

            Oh boy. From the creators of The Matrix. At least they only wrote this time and didn’t direct. Get ready for gay leather suits and women with lesbian haircuts. The Lesbian Haircuts, another damn good band name.

            “You cannot kiss an idea.” Wow, that’s deep Portman.

            Hey, don’t you be talkin’ ‘bout us colonists like that!
            Ya British git.

            Homosexuals?! Terrorists?!

            Oh god, it’s British Portman. Annoyance Factor rising.

            Shouldn’t she have said, “Shite!”

            Yay. Go Vendetta. Or is it V?

            He just said “Dramatis Personae.” I’m going to kill every Wachowski I meet from here on out. I don’t even care if you’re related. This is Day One of my Wachowski Vendetta.

            Damn. Prime Minister John Hurt, I guess.

            What is that, a cement gun? I want one.

            V is quite possibly the most dislikeable character ever written. A pompous British ass.

            Take the masks off. What’s that gonna do, they haven’t seen the guy’s face. What do they think, they’re gonna tear off the mask and there’s gonna be another one underneath? Aha! It’s him! He’s got a mask on!

            That’d be cool to force Natalie Portman to live in my underground lair with me for a year.

            They don’t get butter anymore in Future England? Prime Minister John Hurt, you bastard!

            “Blowing up a building can change the world.” Whoa, the Wachowskis are fuckin’ creepy. I hope Speed Racer isn’t as politcically-motivated as this one.

            “It’s you!” The guy from the fire I had beaten in that weird choppy flashback.

            That was a well-stocked bathroom cabinet.

            Aw, little Portman handing out anti-government propaganda. Kids hand out the darnedest things.

            I think the way to beat this V character is just mess with his calendar. If he blows that shit up on November 4^th he’s gonna look like a big ol’ dork.

            Wow, priests have it sweet. They just send them girls like Portman.

            Dumbest priest ever.    

            Deadest priest ever.

            And V’s gonna be brought down by a damn flower. Don’t leave symbols at the crime scene you “master” criminals.

            I’m so sorry, thank you for killing me. Lady’s got a weird attitude.

            I II III IV V, we get it.

            A primal roar from burn victim V.

            Every movie’s gotta have a man in a monkey suit.

            Ooh, she got black-bagged. That looks a lot worse on paper than it was on film.

            Shave that bitch! Toldja. Lesbian haircut. If nothing else, the Wachowskis are reliable in their shite.

            Nice, cute little British schoolgirl lesbians.         

            Threw away her baby picture. Cool dad.

            Chicks kissing. The Wachowskis just went up a notch in my book.

            More lady shaving.

            Wow, reasonable captors. Just lettin’ that leukemia patient walk away like that.

            Oh boy, Portman freakout. Jeez louise, stop sobbing and wheezing, Natalie.

            Bye Sinead. That’s as close to a Portman kiss as you’re ever getting Mask Man.

            Hitler Hurt.

            Man, John Hurt Mussolinied the fuck outta that speech. I wonder if Mussolini always talked like that. Whippin’ his arms around, ordering a submarine sandwich.

            Wait, he didn’t know that was V? This might be the worst fictional detective I’ve ever seen.

            “Anarchy in the UK!” Better than anarchy here.

            Somethin’ to watch on the telly. I’m for it.

            Cool domino scene. Movies need more dominos scenes like that one.

            John Hurt jowls are in full effect on that big screen.

            Not Mr. Creevey! Wait, who’s Mr. Creevey, is he a bad guy or a good guy? Sounds like a good guy. Sounds like Mr. McFeeley.

            “I understand,” Portman says, not understanding.

            Mmm, mask-kissing, that’s hot.

            Whimpering Prime Minister John Hurt.

            Bollocks.

            “Your bloody knives and your karate gimmicks.”

            Ughhhhh! I hope I don’t make that lame a noise when I get stabbed to death.

            Everybody has juice boxes taped to their chests. Blood doesn’t spray like in an Ocean Spray commercial.

            General Akroyd?

            “I won’t have this thing getting more bollocksed up than it already is.”

            Bald Portman isn’t doin’ it for me.
            “Take your hand off that lever.” “No,” she said lackadaisically.

            Wow, that’s a lot of lame masks. They must’ve had to gone to Lame Mask Surplus for all those.

            Jeez, I didn’t know that British Parliament was so highly-flammable. The British are such pushovers. They’ll be back under tyrannical rule by next week.

            Overall, it was a tale of hope, of change and of lesbian haircuts. Now if you will excuse me, I must go shave a lady.

Overall: One out of Four Happy Ethans. Acting- Portman and Hurt save the day, despite both having lesbian haircuts. Directing – at least he’s not a Wachowski. Writing – they’re Wachowskis. Music – damn Wachowskis. I don’t have much to say on this one. Fuckin’ Polish. The Wachowski Brothers should take a screen-doored-submarine to Hell.