It's a fair claim that a movie based on a video game shalt not become high art.  But basics such as plot and character can usually be achieved.  Nay such things can be found in this film.

What's annoying is the waste of talent.  Jason Statham will never be Hamlet, and his combat scenes are one of the few saving graces of the film.  Add in John Rhys-Davies, Ron Perlman, Ray Liotta, Burt Bloody Reynolds and Leelee Sobreski (who features in a makeout scene she had to have done at gunpoint) and you have a lot of talented performers somehow blackmailed into going through the motions of a ludicrous script.  Methinks the producers offered sexual favors to half the cast and kidnapped the offspring of the rest.  Matthew Iiliard is almost unrecognizeable as a goateed, emo courtier.

I would go into the story, if I could but find any.  The laughter is minimal, and the sight of watching Jason Statham lay waste to extras in orc knock-off costumes a sixpack at a time happens far too seldom.  Seek it out at the bargain bin at walmart when next ye need a window prop and a beer coaster.

The badges are being made and mailed off in plenty of time for Dragoncon this year.

If ye be wanting one and I have not thy snail mail adress, do inform me at Jaythebarbarian@gmail.com

~Begin your Horn of Gondor Jokes... now.

~Anna Popplewell, please be over 18. IMDB says.... oh hell yeah!

~Snarkfest, thy name is Dwarf

~Swing your allegience, do-si-do.

~Not cute, fierce!

~Man, I love a woman in Armor.

~No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.

~You didn't just tell Rico Suave over there to "call me," did you?

~Arwen called. She wants her clothes, hair, and lips back.

~O.k. Mr. DP, way to fuck with the camera speed to get in the way of the action.

~You wrote the damn challenge, wonder boy! What part of "To the death" was difficult to comprehend!?

~Holding out for a Deus Ex Machina

~A helm and coif that fell off that easily would've blinded you about five seconds into the fight.

~Three-minuite breaks? What the hell next, ring card girls?

~semi-auto trebuchets? Now that's just disgusting. Cool, but disgusting.

~OSHA must be shitting themselves, but man is that ever good combat engineering.

~Way to phone in being a christ figure there, Mr. Neeson.

I've let my life get away with itself and not scribbled away as is my wont.

I returned to NCRF for closing/Invasion weekend, along with Odie, another one of my companions.  Alas the inclement weather prevented chainmail bikini saturday, but fun was had all round.

Ending NCRF kicks off GARF this year, and thus far I've managed to drop by two different saturdays, both in the company of Odie.  I'm addicting the man.

In recent news, I will be returning to combat with the Mariner Miscreants in the fall.  Once more unto the breach...

Since joining the Mariner Miscreants, bringing my comrades thereof to faires is one of my rarely-accomplished but always-fun endeavours.  And this trip out I needed it after an internet revelation that left me ready to smite something.  I'll be bringing more come Invasion, but this weekend I brought Dan, one of my fellow Machine Gunners, who hadn't been to faire since he was a child.

The forecast promised cold and wet (and delivered thereupon), so viking garb was the order of the day, with cloaks and gloves kept at hand.

My boots are still in the breaking-in stage, but the rampant mink sacrifice earlier in the week did the job through the mud and wet outside. It didn't start raining until we were almost to Raleigh, but before gate. I hoped for it clearing up. Bring in the patrons, damnit!

Ladyprivy met us at the gate with introductions all round before we went off on our own amusement. Why make tickets with a tear-away part if you take up both parts at the gate? Heh.

You know you're at a southern renfest when a Beagle picks a fight with a potbellied pig in the middle of the site.

Dan went to comparison shop fortune tellers.  Given the impending deployment to Iraq we both face, an astrologer describing us travelling to a warm and dry place would well get an earful.  I caught a bit of Moonie's show with Privy, and thence to the pub.

Even at a smaller faire with cold and rain and few known companions, a pub I can always make myself at home in.

Sidenote: a vendor selling burgers, polish sausage, and similar fare near the pub is apparently run by a handful of Arab-Americans.  I have no quarrel with such things personally, but I do take issue with vulgar insults being muttered at me in Arabic.  Ibn Sharmuta am I, asshole?  Dunno whether to report them to management or simply fuck with their heads come invasion.

We found Dan after the first round and went right back inside.  With another miscreant at hand, the mead began flowing freely, as Dan's philosophy degree stood toe-to-toe with Privy's SCA 101 class.  In retrospect, I should have brought popcorn, as that floor show was rivalling the Interpreters for my attentions, which is rather difficult.

Eventually I begged off yet more mead (driving) and to the vendors we wandered.  Picked up a new toy ('twas so very me), saw old friends, met new ones, and generally had a good faire time.  Would've been nicer with more familiar faces and less rain, but that can be worked on.

On finally getting home, experienced "bootgasm."  My Sandlar's still need some breaking in and are a bit tight in the toes.  And another good faire day ended.