Note: I don't care if any of the following seems silly or frivolous. It matters to me, so I'm going to type it. This is my website, and with the shocking support of some international bodies, I'm going to just churn out whatever the Hell I want. Pageviews (and coherency) be damned.
In high school, bees invaded our house. Like, a biblical amount. They had covered the exterior wall of my room, until ol' Pops Racer jerry-rigged some sort of poison to kill them. The bees, mildly pissed, left the wall and flew to a nearby tree where they decided to from into a giant f--king ball. Of bees. I was instructed to hold the bag! as my dad cut the branch. The bees thudded inside, and he quickly filled it with water to drown them. And while I can't speak for my father, I can tell you one thing: I didn't get stung.
I know, I know. Sorry ladies. I'm already married.
The above story may not mean anything to you, but if you've seen Jupiter Ascending...well, okay, it still might not mean anything to you. The Wachowski's latest, like my ridiculous bee story, is a well-meaning tale that ultimately amounts into just one thing: not f--king much. I didn't hate it, but it's certainly a tough one to love.
Mila Kunis plays Jupiter, a decidedly average maid who lets us know on more than one occasion that she hates her life. Somehow, this beautiful girl (despite stemming from a family of Russian Hagrids) has ended up in a life where she exclusively cleans the toilets of the rich. Hmm...I wonder if that's going to be relevant later? Anyway, ol' Jupes is so bogged down in her awful life, she's willing to, get this, sell her eggs so she can buy a telescope off of Ebay. That sentence alone makes we want to take the blue pill.
Way off into space, word has gone out that there has been a re-emergence of the newly-dead space queen's genetic code, and shocking no one, it's Jupiter. Apparently some feuding aristocrats/space-dicks need to make sure mum's alter-ego doesn't show up and take back their inheritance. Send in Magic Mike Gretzky (aka Channing Tatum), as the spliced tracker, Caine. He'll be sure to track her down before the bad guys do, assuming a bad guy can be rightfully determined. Caine is certainly the man for the job, as this motherf--ker can determine your location by smelling documents you once handled. Got all that? Good. Me neither.
In high school, bees invaded our house. Like, a biblical amount. They had covered the exterior wall of my room, until ol' Pops Racer jerry-rigged some sort of poison to kill them. The bees, mildly pissed, left the wall and flew to a nearby tree where they decided to from into a giant f--king ball. Of bees. I was instructed to hold the bag! as my dad cut the branch. The bees thudded inside, and he quickly filled it with water to drown them. And while I can't speak for my father, I can tell you one thing: I didn't get stung.
I know, I know. Sorry ladies. I'm already married.
Mila Kunis plays Jupiter, a decidedly average maid who lets us know on more than one occasion that she hates her life. Somehow, this beautiful girl (despite stemming from a family of Russian Hagrids) has ended up in a life where she exclusively cleans the toilets of the rich. Hmm...I wonder if that's going to be relevant later? Anyway, ol' Jupes is so bogged down in her awful life, she's willing to, get this, sell her eggs so she can buy a telescope off of Ebay. That sentence alone makes we want to take the blue pill.
Way off into space, word has gone out that there has been a re-emergence of the newly-dead space queen's genetic code, and shocking no one, it's Jupiter. Apparently some feuding aristocrats/space-dicks need to make sure mum's alter-ego doesn't show up and take back their inheritance. Send in Magic Mike Gretzky (aka Channing Tatum), as the spliced tracker, Caine. He'll be sure to track her down before the bad guys do, assuming a bad guy can be rightfully determined. Caine is certainly the man for the job, as this motherf--ker can determine your location by smelling documents you once handled. Got all that? Good. Me neither.
