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Nice out, isn’t it?

Spring

Here at MostlyFilm, the votes have been tallied and we’re prepared to call it – spring is finally here. As the disembodied voice of a long-standing talkboard collective, we don’t actually have any balls and/or tits to freeze off, but if we did, we’d be very bored of it all by now.

Sod the weather, though. Have you visited us recently? You really should, we’ve had some great stuff on the go, whether it be Sleb Looky-Like Casting, two pieces on Criterion getting their act together in the UK, ruminations on jazz in the movies, a cracking look at Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and the latest report from the strange yet delightful man we know who goes to foreign countries and watches the films they have there, for reasons we’ve yet to wholly unpack.

Anyway, we’ve got some amazing writing coming up over the next few weeks – there’s a reason why we’re Europe’s Best Website – but today we’re going to kick back with our semi-regular grab-bag of fripperies, whatchamacallits and trifles both considered and not. ‘All killer, no filler!’, as the kids say. Which isn’t strictly true, because a) it’s *obviously* an excuse for some filler, and b) only around a third of us are convicted murderers.

So what can you go and see in the next few weeks? Well, if you’re not totally bored of superheroes, the X-Men are back soon. Do you remember when the X-Men didn’t seem tired and try-hard and filled with too many uncharismatic people with strangely specific superpowers? No, we don’t either, but then again the first one was sixteen years ago, so we could be mistaken.

Hey, talking of remembering things, do you recall when Angry Birds was a pathetic excuse for a videogame where the playing-mechanic was so fiddly and random that you hated it about ten picoseconds after you installed it? We definitely remember that, and yet seven years later there’s a movie, for some reason. Fill your boots.

We really liked Bad Neighbors – Rose Byrne’s the natural comedic presence that Seth Rogen definitely isn’t – and it’s got a sequel, which we’re pleased about. Let’s hope it’s as gleefully vulgar as the first one.

Say, who are the two most charmless, po-faced dicksplashes in movies today? We bet you’re saying Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling, right? Yuh-HUH! We all are! Would you like to see a trailer for a Shane Black comedy buddy-movie, starring those fellas? Maybe it’ll be great! (It won’t be great.)

And now, we have some bad news for you. Despite it being captured by a UN Taskforce, encased in carbonite and thrown down a mine-shaft on the moon, The Imagination Of Tim Burton has escaped and is threatening us all with a sequel to Alice in Wonderland. We tried distracting it with a cobweb-drenched bell and a bag of headless Victorian dolls, but to no avail. It’s mutated, it’s grown more powerful, and is somehow still making films. If you encounter The Imagination Of Tim Burton, please, do not approach it. It’s considered extremely dangerous.

Hello, is that the Centre for Disease Control? Yes, I’d like to order some smallpox, please? Funny you should ask, I’ve got an A-list movie-star I’d like to poison. Hmm? Why don’t you have a gues…wow, you got that quickly.

Before we head off into just linking to weird shit that we like, there’s a biopic about Florence Foster Jenkins on the go, starring Meryl Streep as Florence Foster Jenkins. Who is Florence Foster Jenkins? Well, give this a listen, and tell us that you’re not interested.

You know, whenever we’re in Dublin, we often feel the need for a new mattress. Don’t know why. That’s just how we roll. We get ours from Mattress Mick. He’s a grand lad, and others think so too. Look at that! You visited MostlyFilm, and now you know exactly what to do when you’re mattress-bereft near the Liffey – a situation that’s far more common than anyone is prepared to admit. We’re an essential public service, you hear?

Tell you who’s talented, that Lin-Manuel Miranda, him off of Hamilton (which we know nothing about, but presume is a hip-hop-tinged musical about the life of Atomic Kitten stalwart Natasha Hamilton). Here he is on Last Week Tonight With John Oliver a week or so back, with a bit about Puerto Rico. He’ll go far.

And to finish, the end of your week definitely needs one hour and forty-four minutes of rescued-from-old-formats ads, continuity and test transmissions from 80s telly. You’re telling yourself that you won’t watch the whole thing, but let’s face it, you’re lying to us, and you’re lying to yourself.

Okay, get the hell out of here. It’s Friday, you’ve got better things to do than look at the goddamn internet. We are back next week, however, with Easy Rider, Green Room and gawping uncomprehendingly at Danish cinema.

Don’t say we’re not good to you.

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