SHE IS BLESSED WITH THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL-MARLA DARLAND, A LEGEND BUT WHEN HER AGENT MARTY STARR FINDS HIS AGENCY IN TROUBLE HE CONCOCTS A SINISTER PLOT TO BRING UP RECORD SALES. AMAZED AT ... See full summary »
Eddie has locked himself away in the toilet and Richie finds he's been inventing gadgets and only to find himself joining Eddie on a adventure through time and space on-board Eddie's time machine "The Turdis" which is a toilet cubicle.
Richie buys an inflatable doll named Monica as his lover, and he tries to conceal it from Eddie. But it all goes terribly wrong when Richie accidentally super glues Monica to his groin, mistaking Eddie's super glue for Handcream.
Richie and Eddie are in charge of the worst hotel in the UK, Guest House Paradiso, neighbouring a nuclear power plant. The illegal immigrant chef has fled and all the guests have gone. But ... See full summary »
A domestic farce exposes the eccentricities of a "typical" middle class, suburban family who find their lives thrown into a crisis with the unexpected arrival of one of the wife's old ... See full summary »
Graham, a lonely Welsh postal worker, adopts James, a troubled ten-year-old boy. Graham always wanted a son, but James loves his biological father too much to give Graham a chance. Will the two be able to accept each other as family?
SHE IS BLESSED WITH THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL-MARLA DARLAND, A LEGEND BUT WHEN HER AGENT MARTY STARR FINDS HIS AGENCY IN TROUBLE HE CONCOCTS A SINISTER PLOT TO BRING UP RECORD SALES. AMAZED AT THE POSTHUMOUS RECORD SALES OF ELVIS, JIMI HENDRIX BECOMES DETERMINED TO ARRANGE A SIMILAR FATE FOR MARLA, STAGING THE PERFECT TRAGIC DEMISE. BUT HE DIDN'T COUNT ON MARLA NOT BEING QUITE READY TO GO. Written by
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I didn't plan to review BRING ME THE HEAD OF MAVIS DAVIS, much like I didn't plan to watch it. It was a Sunday night thing, you see. It is a sad consequence of the day of rest: you fill in time however you can, even watching awful films like this.
The film tells the story of a scheming manager who plots to kill his faded pop star, and in doing so increase her album sales. Years ago, in a rush to complete a first-year Screenwriting assignment I hatched a similar, lazy plot.
I never thought it was particularly astute, because everybody knows that the legends of rock stars are built on their deaths. The makers of this film think it IS astute, even if their execution is excruciatingly sloppy. Worse still, where I made the point in ten minutes, this film runs to ninety.
Ninety minutes. Ninety horrible minutes. Ninety minutes, no jokes.
I could hardly feel angry that I watched this film: it was on television and it was my own fault. I felt no malice or ill-will towards the cast and crew. I foresaw the inevitable lameness of their poorly-made product and yet I watched it anyway.
In the end I just felt like a bit of a loser. Ninety minutes I could have spent stimulating my brain or collecting for the worlds poor, but no. I watched a bad film.
Don't make the same mistake I did. But then again, Sundays make people do strange things.
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