Ridley Scott really hasn’t done much for me since 1999, and he certainly didn’t do anything for me with Prometheus. So while I’m stoked that he isn’t directing Blade Runner 2, I’m sort of bummed it exists at all. Though, who knows. Maybe fresh blood, fresh take, fresh batch of enjoyment? #KeepinThatPMA
Apparently Syfy is totally serious about being totally serious about producing dope content. The channel has doubled down on the acknowledgement that they’ve been fucking up for a while now (SO SAY WE ALL), and is going about addressing that development with new promising series. The latest announcement? A miniseries sequel to 2001.
Just how many of Harrison Ford’s defining projects is the good sir going to return to? He’s doing Star Wars, he’s been hankering for Indiana Jones, and now he’s being offered the reins to Blade Runner 2.
Katy Perry wants in on the Blade Runner 2 action. Hmm. Given that I regard Blade Runner 2 as nothing more than the feces-bases elixir of an encore that Ridley Scott is going to use to wash Prometheus down our throats, seeing one of my eternal crushes play Rachael may actually be the only thing to get me excited about this movie. Listen I know that probably sounds crazy but I just woke up and I shudder slightly when even thinking about Prometheus. Just leave me the fuck alone. I am a firework.
If the shit show that was Prometheus didn’t talk you out of believing that the sequel to Blade Runner would be good, take a fat hit of this to your dome. The fucking writer for the bloody diarrhea monster that was Green Lantern has been brought aboard the project.
Abandon hope, all ye.
SyFy, Ridley Scott, and Frank Spotnitz are adapting PKD’s novel Man in the High Castle for TV. Said book is glorious alt-history, wrapped around mind-bending ideas about reality. Which, I suppose is a bit obvious given the author. What do you PKD fans think? Me? Color in the circle that says “Caff-Pow has no idea how to feel about this.”
Well, fuck. Prometheus 2 is going to enter into this world, aiming straight for our cerebral cortex with vomit-inducing themes of faith and nonsense. Here is hoping Ridley Scott can find himself a human being aside from Damon Lindelof to write the script. Here is hoping Lindelof’s busy schedule doesn’t let him do it. It’d be amazing to see what could happen if the writer wasn’t patting himself on the back with one hand, while mashing out high-fives to Christianity with the other ad nauseam.
This isn’t really a Prometheus review. By now you’ve most likely seen the movie, read reviews, or heard about it from your boys. This article is a rant with plenty of spoilers.
Does anyone honestly expect greatness from Sir Ridley Scott anymore? There’s no doubt he’s still a master craftsman who can create some truly stunning visuals. But for a while now he’s been more concerned with those visuals than with minor annoyances like story and characters. That’s why for his prequel to Alien Scott was cool working off of a script originally written by the guy who wrote The Darkest Hour (remember that one?), that was later touched up by Damon Lindelof. We all know Lindelof from Lost, which we still argue about, but that’s only because we still love it so much.
It’s a bit of a stretch, asking anyone to come out of Prometheus this weekend without an overwhelming sensation of feeling hollow. It’s a rather empty, desolate film in all the ways that matter: setting, visuals, character – even plot. There just isn’t a lot there.
Compounding the problem is that the marketing machine behind the film has inadvertently already given you 90% of it. Walking out of the theatre tonight or tomorrow will feel like you’ve just seen an extended trailer, albeit a two hour one.
All hands on deck!
It appears that Spaceship Omega has inadvertently veered off course. Somehow, perhaps because Navigator Burton fell asleep after drinking too many Pepsi-and-gasoline cocktails, we have slipped into a pocket of spacetime usually avoided at all costs. That’s right, folks, batten down the hatches and brace yourselves! We’re headed right for it!
The beginning of the workweek!
As wave after wave of ennui, minutiae, and stress wash over us, we can rest assured. For every passenger of Spaceship Omega has a spot in the refuge known as the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! What is this sanctuary, you ask? Well, this is where I take the time to show you the various bits of entertainment and mind-drivel I’ll be using to survive the onslaught of real-world responsibilities. Then, you hit up the comments section and tell us which floatation device you’ll be clinging to when your ass is tossed into the Ocean of Obligation.
Yes, beneath the half-baked metaphors and bleeding-heart-on-my-sleeve hyperbole, it’s folks tryin’ to point one another in the direction of cool shit.
Oh no! Another wave! Let’s do this!