skull_bearer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skull_bearer) wrote2007-06-17 11:46 pm
skull_bearer) wrote2007-06-17 11:46 pm
Fantastic Four, Rise of the Overwhelming Disappointment
Fantastic four 2 (or would that be Fantastic 8? Whatever) Is crap. Not even distilled essence of crap that can be enjoyable. Just Utter. Mediocre. Crap. The sort of crap that's not worth shelling out for, not even for the special effects, which are poor and far too few. For novelty, I will try and restrain myself to just telling the characters to die, because then the sets would be covered in dead bodies (which may not be a bad thing).
Dear Reed Richards: I know this is getting repetitive, but please go away. I won't even say die because I simply can't feel strongly enough about your character to want you dead. I just want you gone. Now.
Dear (Ha!) Sue Storm: I won't say die to you either, because you did and still came back and I can't take another mourning scene like that again, let alone a resurrection scene. You are meant to be eyecandy but gods, are you ugly. You look like a plastic surgery reject. Your acting is crap. Your powers are crap. You look crap. You ARE crap.
Why are all female character such Mary-Sues?
Dear Human Torch (forgotten his name): You are... I have no idea who you are, you are whatever the directors want you to be, and if you weren't surrounded by such dross, I might actually not hate you. Actually, no, I would hate you, you chavenist little shit.
Dear Thing: You are the least annoying, which isn't saying much, your romance is okay, because I like established romance. Get a new make-up artist, please, you did not look convincing.
Dear Silver Surfer: As you were one character I was expecting to enjoy, you disappoint me. You spent hardly any time flying and your plot was weaker than Sue Storms 'scientist' persona. You deserved to be eaten by Marvel Zombies. I feel ashamed I ever liked you.
Dear Dr Doom: If I cheered you on, it was because I loved you in the comics and you were the least annoying character there, which is saying something since I hate your actor and you look crap without that mask on and even with it you look like the Emperor from Star Wars. I was surprised how cool you looked on the surfboard though, and cheered you opening a can of whuppass on the craptastic four. Your plot was the strongest there, and that was pretty damn bad since no one explained why you suddenly decided to forget the impending destruction of earth and took the surfboard for yourself. Some explanation would have been nice. All the same, I was very sad when you drowned. *sniff* I miss you already.
*goes to riffle up some fanfic when Dr Doom pwns F4*
Dear Army Dudes: Survival of the whitest eh? Yes bwana. F*cking fascists. And talking about fascists, who the hell hired Mengele as army doctor? That was sooo unsubtle manipulation there. I hate feeling like someone is hammering the message in with a sledgehammer.
Dear plot: For once, it would be better if you hadn't been there, then it would have been so bad it would have been good and we'd have had a good laugh. You bilked every ounce of enjoyment out of this film with your clumsy ineptness. Bad.
Dear Romance: *is unable to retrain herself* Die.
And finally...
Dear Galactus:
Of all the characters in this movie, you were the one I was looking forward to the most, yes, even after I heard that Dr Doom was coming back. The thought of the directors trying to find you in was the real reason I went to see this movie, no matter how bad I knew it would be. The thought of seeing you in your two-mile-high magenta glory; miniskirt, lego hat, two-year-old facepaint and all, would be enough for me to put up with all five wedding scenes. Alas. Alak. It was not to be.
I will not say that you were not awe-inspiring, you were. I will not say you were not frightening, you were. I will not say I did not feel the almighty aura of impending doom upon me, I did. But after seeing you that first time, being hacked apart by Marvel Zombies, nothing could possibly match up to your overwhelming campness, especially not the cloud of spacedust you were portrayed as. Poetic liscense, be damned, I forsake thee, Galactus. The zombies can have you.
Dear Reed Richards: I know this is getting repetitive, but please go away. I won't even say die because I simply can't feel strongly enough about your character to want you dead. I just want you gone. Now.
Dear (Ha!) Sue Storm: I won't say die to you either, because you did and still came back and I can't take another mourning scene like that again, let alone a resurrection scene. You are meant to be eyecandy but gods, are you ugly. You look like a plastic surgery reject. Your acting is crap. Your powers are crap. You look crap. You ARE crap.
Why are all female character such Mary-Sues?
Dear Human Torch (forgotten his name): You are... I have no idea who you are, you are whatever the directors want you to be, and if you weren't surrounded by such dross, I might actually not hate you. Actually, no, I would hate you, you chavenist little shit.
Dear Thing: You are the least annoying, which isn't saying much, your romance is okay, because I like established romance. Get a new make-up artist, please, you did not look convincing.
Dear Silver Surfer: As you were one character I was expecting to enjoy, you disappoint me. You spent hardly any time flying and your plot was weaker than Sue Storms 'scientist' persona. You deserved to be eaten by Marvel Zombies. I feel ashamed I ever liked you.
Dear Dr Doom: If I cheered you on, it was because I loved you in the comics and you were the least annoying character there, which is saying something since I hate your actor and you look crap without that mask on and even with it you look like the Emperor from Star Wars. I was surprised how cool you looked on the surfboard though, and cheered you opening a can of whuppass on the craptastic four. Your plot was the strongest there, and that was pretty damn bad since no one explained why you suddenly decided to forget the impending destruction of earth and took the surfboard for yourself. Some explanation would have been nice. All the same, I was very sad when you drowned. *sniff* I miss you already.
*goes to riffle up some fanfic when Dr Doom pwns F4*
Dear Army Dudes: Survival of the whitest eh? Yes bwana. F*cking fascists. And talking about fascists, who the hell hired Mengele as army doctor? That was sooo unsubtle manipulation there. I hate feeling like someone is hammering the message in with a sledgehammer.
Dear plot: For once, it would be better if you hadn't been there, then it would have been so bad it would have been good and we'd have had a good laugh. You bilked every ounce of enjoyment out of this film with your clumsy ineptness. Bad.
Dear Romance: *is unable to retrain herself* Die.
And finally...
Dear Galactus:
Of all the characters in this movie, you were the one I was looking forward to the most, yes, even after I heard that Dr Doom was coming back. The thought of the directors trying to find you in was the real reason I went to see this movie, no matter how bad I knew it would be. The thought of seeing you in your two-mile-high magenta glory; miniskirt, lego hat, two-year-old facepaint and all, would be enough for me to put up with all five wedding scenes. Alas. Alak. It was not to be.
I will not say that you were not awe-inspiring, you were. I will not say you were not frightening, you were. I will not say I did not feel the almighty aura of impending doom upon me, I did. But after seeing you that first time, being hacked apart by Marvel Zombies, nothing could possibly match up to your overwhelming campness, especially not the cloud of spacedust you were portrayed as. Poetic liscense, be damned, I forsake thee, Galactus. The zombies can have you.