Sunday, July 19, 2009

Harry Potter and the Lost Isle of Misfit Celebrities.

     What follows is a review of Half-Blood Prince and the incredible circumstances that allowed me to see the film a month before release, meet and seduce J.K. Rowling and embark on the greatest get-rich-quick adventure of my life. 


     There's an island in the South Pacific that is lost in time. A patch of remote land where according to legend all your dreams come true. Before last month I would have thought it to be nothing more than a fairy tale or some story your dad tells at a McDonalds when he's drank too much and wants to impress the teenage cashier girl. But it exists! It's out there alone and unreachable to mere mortals. Due to a sort of Earth magnet anomaly it's impossible to be found by traditional marine navigational systems. It is for this exact reason that a sort of resort was built there. Like a big luxury hotel with very few guests. Like a Motel 6 in heaven. (Oxymoron, I know.) 

     I was lucky enough to visit this Xanadu when my private yacht, the H.M.S. Boob-mobile was lost in a squall. We were somewhere west of the Philippines, offshore the tropical coast free-diving in search of the rare giant black pearl. The skies turned grey and unfriendly and the water started getting choppy but I knew we were getting close to our prize. My first mate, Mr. Otango, advised me that we should find port until the storm passed but ninety feet down and jammed in a reef I found the wreck of one of my greatest competitors. It was Dr. VanBusen's ship lying at the bottom of the merky deep. Two long, gaping holes in it's port-side hull grinned at me. It was the giant Waray-Waray deep-sea reef clam. That blue-shelled bitch had claimed another crew. What a fucking slut. But I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't happy that VanBusen was out of the picture. A retired dentist from Port Saint Lucie Florida, he was pissed at me ever since I did the nasty with his wife and daughter in a Hooters restroom during the spring break celebrations of 1997. That and I still owe him money for crowns. He had been getting his revenge by always staying two steps ahead of me in my hunt for the mammoth undersea beast. But I was about to learn the price of revenge and underpaying your crew.


Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince. Meh, it's not bad. I mean it's Harry Potter so sure it's an alright movie but I'm just disappointed in a couple of things. Granted I've never read the books, (which I'm told not having done so is a major fail) but in my opinion the flick is lacking in two very important departments. Hot chicks and violence. Simple ingredients that go into any great movie. 

     "Oh Emma Watson is smoking!" No she isn't she's like fifteen or something and when we first met her in Philosopher's Stone she was like four years old. Yeah it's a kids book and all the females in it are either children or the Golden Girls but let's get real. Rowling is rich enough she shouldn't care if a couple of them are played by some full grown chesty la-rues instead of toddlers. The age of the actor shouldn't matter, just that they understand and play their character to the best of their abilities and understanding. Imagine how good the movie would really be if Luna Lovegood was portrayed by a Heidi Montag or a Jesse Jane? Harry wouldn't mind asking her to Prof. Slughorn's xmas bash at all! Plus you'd be opening the film up to a much wider audience! Did you know that when you look up dirty pictures of Linday Lohan online, (we all do it) that some of them are screencaps from that SNL sketch where she plays a boobed out Hermione? The audience IS out there. 


     You see, AT&T outsources much of it's customer service calls to an office complex in Mubai and they were willing to pay upwards of two-hundred dollars to posses a giant black pearl for a display case in their lobby. I'm told it would be between the framed employee of the month photo and the company's regional cricket team trophy awarded to them for outstanding participation. I needed to get that pearl but being old, Jewish and from America's wang, Vanbusen was a natural seaman. When I saw his boat's carcass underwater I was so excited that the water around me got just a little bit warmer and I made for the surface. I needed my machete so I could possess my enemy's head and thusly all his strength. I also wanted his penis for personal reasons and a dead man's pubic beard can fetch a handsome price on the Beijing black market. (For some reason it's worth more than tiger there. I think enough of it makes a very fine pillow.) 

     When I surfaced I found to my horror that the local crew I had hired way back in West Papaua was looting the Boob-mobile and jumping ship! I don't speak much Indonesian so I was relying on Mr. Otanga to sort things but it turned out that dick was only from Windsor Ontario! He didn't speak French, Mandarin, Bengali, Cayuse or Modern Gutnish like he told me but he sure as shit knew how to say 'Fuck off' as he jumped in the last escape zodiac. Hindsight being what it is it does seem odd that he claimed to have killed a troupe of baboons with only a spork and his cunning but his only reference was from a Tim Hortons. Now that I remember his entire resume was printed in crayon on one of their napkins. But that didn't matter anymore. Brian Otanga's resume and the rest of my files were gone along with everything else of value. It was just me and the empty Boob-Mobile being tossed into the storm. No fuel. No food. Radar, sonar, Super Nintendo, fish finder. All were gone. I was done for. At least one of the men was nice enough to leave some poo where the blender used to be.


     Now about the violence in the movie, well there just wasn't any. I know, I know it's Harry Potter not Die Hard but did anyone really watch the last one? Ho-ly shit it was sweet! The last forty minutes was, "Let's ditch this Hogwarts bullshit and have ourselves a fucking wizard duel!" It was an orgy of magical violence that probably made J.R.R. shit in his pants. And he's dead as far as we know! (He could just be Tupac-ing it like Michael Jackson.) You can imagine how stoked I was to see what kind of mystical mayhem was in store for this next film. This is what Harry Potter has become?! It went from The Land Before Time to Lethal Weapon! But alas, the fighting was not to be had in this latest installment. Yeah there was a little wand fluttering here and some potion nonsense there, (and that scene where the mountain of underwater crack-heads try to fustigate Harry and Dumbeldore was pretty rad) but it just didn't compare to the battle royale in the last movie. 


     I don't know what exactly happened now that I think back. A flurry of wind and surf as my mighty arms gripped the steering wheel thing. I hadn't taken the time to learn too many nautical terms because that shit-head Otanga told me he 'knew all the boat crud.' I cursed the day I met that retard. I cursed mother nature for not showing any mercy to a helpless victim such as me. And I cursed that giant hard-shelled whore whose pearl I so desperately wanted. All I remember before waking up on the hot beach was being sucked into a vortex of fast water and bad vibes. It was like getting a swirly from Poseidon himself.  

     When I came to I wasn't sure how many days had passed or how much salt water I had swallowed but god damn I was glad to be on land. I mean I knew where I was in the world so I assumed it would be rotten poor-people land probably covered in trash and dead Gap factory workers but I didn't care. Little did I know where I had actually ended up. 

     There she was standing over me wearing only a smile and some caked on sand. Dame Joanne Murray Rowling! In my reckless search for fortune and glory I had been delivered by the sea to the lost island of misfit celebrities! Since I was in rough shape she agreed to show me around the place and get me all sorted out. (That and I think she caught a glimpse of my huge bulge.) I couldn't believe I was walking on a beach with the J.K. Rowling in the flesh! And what flesh it was! That woman does her Hip-Hop Abs alright. (I'm assuming the island has a Goodlife or something.)


     It's a two-hour movie written from a seven-hundred page novel of a book. I think I'm going to start reading the series not only to see if I am missing any Clockwork Orange type ultra-violence but also so I'll know whether or not to waste my coin going to see the next two movies. 

     Maybe there's a sequence where Hagrid drinks too much and rampages through the school like a madman, squashing kids under his boots like they were grapes. Or maybe for time they cut a scene where Remus Lupin and his purple-haired lady are getting it on when he inadvertently transforms into a giant dog but she just goes with it. She just goes with it. Yeah, nice. Professor Flitwick just watches. They can't see him because he's so small but he's present, watching. For some reason. I don't know why, ask J.K. Rowdy! She's the sick one here not me. 


     When we reached the main compound I learned about the other wondrous island inhabitants. Everyone was there! Tupac Shakur making more 'unreleased tracks', Michael Jackson, Walt Disney, Heath Ledger, a skinny Liza Minelli and half of J.F.K.'s brain hardwired to a Macbook playing chess against Joaquin Pheonix's sanity! It truly was an odd sort of paradise. Cobain was there but just hiding from Love. I didn't have time to ask him why half his face was missing. Apparently all I had to do was wait for a chopper covered in tin foil that arrived once a month delivering heaps of royalty checks and a team of sexy lawyers who bug Heath to come back to hollywood. (Rowling had a time share there and liked to get away from the 'hustle and bustle of being an incredibly rich and famous author of mindless kiddie drivel.' Exact words.) 

     So for the remainder of the month it was wine, woman and sun as I waited in heaven for a helicopter to take me back to the drone of civilization. But in my time there I was lucky enough to watch an early screening of Half-Blood Prince and I formed quite a few opinions about it. None of which were taken into consideration by the filmmakers to my disappointment. I never did find that giant clam but when I do I swear to god me and Rowling are going to shuck the shit out of it! Clambake on the Lost Isle of Misfit Celebrities. 


     Harry Potter needs more sexy ladies and ultra violence. 

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