Kung Fu Hustle: Review

What the actual cheese.

Cheese. Is it cheesy? I don't know.

Can something be so cliched that it's not? Uh...can you tell me? I'm sorry, this movie left me suffering from PTSD, or some form of it. I have no idea what to think.

WARNING: SPOILER ALERT...?

Kung Fu Hustle. What is it?
That's a very good question. And...I don't exactly know how to answer it. It's a movie...with a lot of kung fu fighting? *cue song*

Seriously people, this movie doesn't have much of a plot of anything. Or any practicality whatsoever. It's like it said 'Logic? Screw that, it's so last century, man.' In many ways, it reminds me of how Emperor's New Groove didn't take anything seriously. Those of you who've watched that movie know exactly what I'm talking about.

But I suppose I should tell you about...what goes on. We start out with a police office. Sounds of a guy getting his bottom roundly kicked are sounding as we pan throughout the building. Finally, we discover that it's a cop being beat up by a gang leader for imprisoning his wife. The gang walks out the door and immediately gets surrounded by another gang, except this gang is a lot bigger. Like, a loooot bigger. They're called the 'Ax Gang'. For good reason - every single one of them carries an ax. But they also use tommy guns. They wipe out the other gang with extreme prejudice.
Then, after a little exposition text, we switch to a poor district of whatever city this movie takes place. The landlord is a total haha...
hahaha....
HAHAHAHAHA
Sorry. I...this...can't explain this movie.

Brownie points to whoever directed this piece of...I don't know. Brilliance? Stupidity? Laziness? Awesomeness? What the...?

Let's see if I can give you an example of the weirdness of this movie.
The landlord of the main complex is a total wimp who gets beat up by his wife all the time. He's made out of something indestructible, though, 'cause he survives a three-story drop face-first onto concrete. But he and his wife are both jerks. When they get attacked by the ax gang three of the building's tenants turn out to be long-lost masters of kung fu. But they get killed by assassins who use a lute that fires bladed weapons when strummed. But those assassins get killed by the landlord and lady, who turn out to also be masters of kung fu. The landlady is a master of the 'Roaring Lion' style, which means she can scream so loud she can crack building structure. The landlord is master of what I will call the 'Whispering Wind' style, which is actually probably the most viable martial arts style in this whole friggin' movie. There's also this guy who knows flash-step kung fu called The Beast who defeats the landlord and lady but in return is defeated by the main character who learns this weird Force technique called the Buddha Palm or somesuch. Use the force, Chu.
If, by now, you're staring at this block of text like 'Whaaaa' then congratulations. You know how I feel.

END SPOILERS

All the stunts in this movie - and I mean all of them - are completely unrealistic. So is the fighting. So are the characters. Things happen and there's no explanation. It's just pure, mindless, fake entertainment.
So...I don't know how to rate this. Bad, because of its outright outrageously unbelievable makeup? Or good, because maybe that's what the director was trying to accomplish? Or mediocre perhaps, since it really only made me laugh in confusion/astonishment/arghpaarghaledfldsffhaoid?

I don't HEEEHEEHEEHAHAHAAHA
HAHAEHEHEKNOWHAHAHEEHEH
WAHTEHACTUELHEEEEEHEHEHEHEEEH

Excuse me while I call a mental hospital.

An In-Depth Study: The Game

Cannot be seen,
Cannot be felt,
Cannot be touched, heard, or smelt
Cannot be won,
Cannot be fun.
What am I?

THE GAME.


For many long years (in reality about twelve), 'The Game' has been a subject baffling the best of philosophers (cause it's stupid). Everyone's playing it, but no one ever wins it - and its curse only lifts after death (stupid, I say).

Excuse me a second, Reaper seems to have a (talent) problem with inserting (clarifications) unhelpful parenthetical (facts) INTERRUPTIONS. Shutcha ghostly mouth.

As I was saying, the game has been a mystery for quite a while. I first learned of it a couple years after joining Boy Scouts, where I was introduced to the most mood-killing device of all time - yes, The Game.

What are the rules to the game?
1. Everyone in the world is playing The Game. (Sometimes narrowed to: "Everybody in the world who knows about The Game is playing The Game", or alternatively, "You are always playing The Game.") A person cannot not play The Game; it does not require consent to play and one can never stop playing.

2. Whenever one thinks about The Game, one loses.

3. Losses must be announced to at least one person (either by using a statement such as "I lost The Game" or by alternative means). After a player has announced a loss, some variants allow for a grace period between three seconds to thirty minutes to forget about the game, during which the player cannot lose the game again.

A method of finishing 'The Game' is that whenever the President of the US, the Pope, or the Prime Minister of the UK says 'The Game Is Up', The Game automatically terminates and you are free. But this method also detracts from the torture of having to play the game for all your life, so it is commonly discredited.

The origins of The Game are uncertain. One theory is that when two men missed their last train and had to spend the whole night on a platform, they tried not to think about their situation and whoever did first, lost. Another is that it was invented in London in 1996 "to annoy people". The reported earliest known reference on the Internet is from 2002.

The Game is an example of ironic processing (also known as the "White Bear Principle"), in which attempts to avoid certain thoughts make those thoughts more persistent.

Welcome to The Game. Now, my well-informed reader, begin a long life of torture and failure. Why? Because, ladies and gentlemen, I lost The Game. 

(the stupid one)

Sharrap.

Day 2

MAY 26:
5:00 a.m.: Fall out of bed.

5:01 a.m.: Crawl over to alarm clock and turn it off.

5:05 a.m.: Get dressed.

5:10 a.m.: Climb into hunting stand.

5:10:05 a.m.: Forgot gun.

5:15 a.m.: Take shot of antifreeze.

5:20 a.m.: Take potshot at annoying squirrel who decided to get up early.

5:20:01 a.m.: Gun barrel shatters - misfire.

5:25 a.m.: Angrily set dynamite traps. Go back inside.

5:30 a.m.: Not sleepy. Turn on the telly.

5:35 a.m.: Wife stumbles downstairs and demolishes television, then heads back upstairs to get some more sleep.

5:40 a.m.: Dynamite traps go off.

5:43 a.m.: Definitely killed something. Can't tell what it is.

5:50 a.m.: Shovel dirt into holes in lawn caused by dynamite.

6:30 a.m.: Annoying squirrel apparently wasn't the one who set off the trap. Bummer.

7:00 a.m.: Toast bread is moldy. Coffee is gone. Wife is mad. Day is off to a horrible start.

7:01:01 a.m.: You don't say.

8:00 a.m.: After makeshift breakfast of ramen and milk, head off to store to buy new telly.

9:00 a.m.: Find out ramen wasn't supposed to taste like cherries.

9:00:05 a.m.: Vomit breakfast over dashboard.

9:15 a.m.: Head home.

10:00 a.m.: Favorite football team loses game. Have choice words with new telly.

11:00 a.m.: Wife gets up, says she won't make you a sandwich.

12:00 p.m.: Contemplate setting dynamite trap for wife.

12:01 p.m.: Dismiss idea. Wife would probably scare dynamite.

1:00 p.m.: Favorite baseball team loses game. Demolish new telly in fit of rage.

2:00 p.m.: Arrive home from store with new telly.

2:05 p.m.: Decide not to watch any more telly today.

3:00 p.m.: Mow lawn.

3:05 p.m.: While on mower, discover active land mine.

3:10 p.m.: Rushed to hospital.

4:00 p.m.: The good news is, the shrapnel was all extracted. The bad news is, you have cancer.

4:05 p.m.: The good news is, the hospital has a telly. The bad news is, you just demolished it because it looked at you funny.

6:00 p.m.: After numerous prescriptions, appointments, and remunerations for broken hospital property, head home.

6:30 p.m.: Wife has finally made sandwich. Perhaps life isn't that bad after all.

6:30:05 p.m.: Actually it is, because it was made with the moldy bread.

6:45 p.m.: Stumble to couch in pain. Contemplate the meaning of life.

7:00 p.m.: Have animated debate with telly. The stupid thing is looking at you funny again.

7:01 p.m.: Too tired to demolish telly. Settle for turning it on and off multiple times, mumbling "That'll teach you to give me the cold shoulder, you useless hunk of junk."

7:05 p.m.: Telly replies "You're having a bad day. Shut up and go to bed."

7:05:05 p.m.: Throw controller at telly and run upstairs like a scared (and furious) rabbit.

8:00 p.m.: Log on to internet.

8:30 p.m.: Lose all hope in humanity. Log off internet.

9:00 p.m.: Contemplate suicide.

9:01 p.m.: Remember that gun is already busted. Blast.

9:05 p.m.: Remember you still have a stick of dynamite left.

9:10 p.m.: Light the fuse.

9:10:10 p.m.: It's a dud.

9:11 p.m.: Scream in rage and dash into kitchen frantically.

9:11:05 p.m.: Grab kitchen knife and slit throat.

9:12 p.m.: Wrong throat - at least she'll be with you in the afterlife!

9:13 p.m.: Join wife on floor, bleeding out.

9:15 p.m.: See white light - everything fades.

______________________________________________________________________________

5:25 a.m.: Wake up. Look around.

5:30 a.m.: Realize you're still in your hunting stand.

5:31 a.m.: Gun is still busted.

5:35 a.m.: Bird poops on your face.

5:40 a.m.: Aim and fire.

5:40:05 a.m.: Gun is broken, idiot.

5:45 a.m.: Crawl back in bed. Something's missing.

5:46 a.m.: Ah, right. Wife isn't there.

5:50 a.m.: Find wife on kitchen floor.

5:51 a.m.: Am I in heaven?

5:51:05 a.m.: Blink. Wife isn't there anymore.

5:52 a.m.: You're not married, idiot. Go back to bed.

6:00 a.m.: Collapse in bed.

6:01 a.m.: Remember it's actually Sunday, not Saturday.

6:01:05 a.m.: ...

...

...

Snap.