Pajiba

First off, that header pic is the stuff of nightmares, dude. Not cool for a morning post.

How pathetic is it that The Mummy is actually a better movie than Crystal Skullfuckery?

"Ever wonder where all the missing vowels in the German language are? They’re in “LaBeouf.” All of them."

@SLW: And we want them back.
As you're at least an ocean closer to The Shiaster and undoubtedly posess diabolical Industry connections of a dubious nature, please forward him the following message:

Sehr geehrter Herr LaBliblablo,
Österreich benötigt sämtliche unnötigen Buchstaben Ihres Namens und hätte sie gern zurück. Ihr Umgang mit ebendiesen wurde als äußerst fahrlässig eingeschätzt. Wir bitten um schleunigste Rücksendung!
herzliche Grüße,
cnkt

Fucking kids.

I'm sending that header picture to my boyfriend. If I must suffer, all will suffer.

Pajiba giveth (Hilary Swank pic yesterday), and Pajiba taketh away (the Beef pic here).

I'm not sure if Steven, George, and Harrison realize this, but I think they killed any desire anyone has to see another installment. I was one of the many that was highly excited for #4, only to be completely shat upon. #5 I could care less about, consequently. Whatever. Of course, people will still see it in droves.

Has Lucas done 3D yet? Just you wait...

They should uses that picture of LaBoeuf looking like a human/frog hybrid to promote Splice. Then I'd know it was a horror movie for sure.

I haven't even read this yet. I'm too freaked out by the reappearance of the football-headed monkey boy who is a top-secret citrus smuggler.
Ugh.

/rant on

God. Fucking. Damn. It. ALL TO COCKSUCKING HELL.

George Lucas' continued assault on his own classics, which I grew up on, is akin to Jesus coming back from the dead, getting up on the nearest mountain and proclaiming, "You know what, I kinda had it all wrong. Watch out for yourselves, if your neighbor chooses to ride the shortbus straight to Hell than that's his problem. Oh, and Dad said that whole repentance thing is just false hope. He ain't that forgiving."

Every step is a complete undermining of the core that made Indy. The "family dynamic" can go sit on a bowling pin, doing nothing to hide Harrison Ford's age, and completely dulling any romantic spark from the movie. We can't even begin to pick at "Muttfucker" Jones. The AUDIENCE is supposed to want to be Indy, and instead we get an annoying twerp attempting to act cool in some sort of misguided homage to Marlon Brando in The Wild Bunch. All of the sudden, you shift the focus off Indy's motivations, and place our perspective behind a character who knows nothing of the history the audience is embracing, and lacks the Everyman qualities that make Indy so relatable.

Muttfucker Jones III (or whatever) is so dynamically opposite of Indy it makes me vomit out my nose. We already saw young Indy, River Phoenix did it. In the 10 minutes he was on screen, he exhibited the same self-doubting yet cavalier attitude, and direct yet-improvised actions that made us love the older version. George Lucas can't help but try to tell us why Mutt is cool. Oh, hey, he picks fights with Yalies and rides a motorcycle. This guy must be the bees knees! Instead we get the same asshole we've seen since The Battle of Shaker Heights.

Oh, and lets throw aliens in there as the MacGuffin. Yeah, that'll work. At least when Indy was digging up religious artifacts, it resonated because you fell into two parties. Either you believed in the fairy-tale artifacts of religion, hoping that Indy could come to possess the same spirituality that you do, and feel validated when the big payoff reinforced your sense of belief. Or, you were like me, the ever-present doubter who moves along with your hero, a persistent naysayer who refuses to believe in ancient magic stories scribbled on old rocks. So the hero fights the bad guys, but slowly at the halfway point we both find that there's something to believe in. Spielberg keeps us walking the fine between belief and doubt, and when the big payoff does finally hit, he seals off that religious mysticism, tucked away comfortably in a corner of the world that we know both exists and can simultaneously be never found again.

But no one in their right mind believes this alien garbage (save Scientologists... wait... does Lucas pray at the altar of L. Ron?). Give us the pagan magics the Mayans worshiped, give us Gods with invisible hands whose ex machina has since faded into forgotten and unwritten history. At least we know that at some point in history a lot of people have actually believed this stuff. It's insulting to the audience to ask them to believe something completely absurd and improbable that not even 10 year-olds can rationalize without funneling Robotussin and spinning in a circle for an hour.

Double damn it all to hell. If I'm anywhere near Skywalker Ranch when this opens, I am not kidding you: I will be standing on the road, at his mailbox with my home-made "Stop Raping My Childhood" sign. Join me if you're around.

/rant over

Nice rant, D-Day. I'm usually in the neighborhood, so I'll join you with the sign-holding.

And that header pic, I thought we agreed last time to never use it again. It so confuses me. My loins stir a bit at the nice bod and package, and then my gaze drifts back to the oversized monkey head, and I feel nauseated. Enough looking at this would probably neuter me.

Harrison should be on stand-by for a new hip. I won't be seeing an Indy 5 movie in the theater.

Yes, let's agree to never discuss Indy 4 or this header pic ever again. Ever.

I skimmed the article (disappointing news, to be sure), but I just wanted to protest the associated photograph. The last thing I wanted to see today was The Beef's vienna-sausage-pouch looming through the dust on my laptop screen. I enjoyed my lunch the first time and don't care to taste it again, thanks. Or, to put it simpler, I wish Shia was shyer. Hang that banana hammock in a different jungle, Tarzan.

There's a reason pants were invented. PUT THEM ON!

At this point, the only effect this has on me is making me envision a terrifying future in which my beloved Star Wars and Indiana Joneses are released on Blu Ray, but only in six and five movie boxsets respectively. But, hey, there's always shoplifting.

“I think it would be interesting to deepen the relationship between he and his son and play on that relationship. … It’s full of opportunity"

Does the ... omit the "Once we recast Mutt"?