Film Review: The Worlds End

The Cornetto Cocktail Happy Hour(s)

Years ago whilst still in college, I stayed at my Grans house for a couple of months. She was 87 or so, me 20. For some unknown (beyond) reason one evening while sitting having tea with her, I asked (blurted out) ‘What’s it like being 87?’. Sitting comfortably against the big table, big relative to her Yoda like stature, she replied ‘The same as when you’re 20, you just can’t move’. It might have been better if she did say it with an Irish Yoda voice, but nonetheless, it was my Luke Skywalker moment. The Farce was strong in this one (that’s a deliberate spelling).

Film Review: The Worlds End

So that singular moment of Zen clarity, sent back in time, travelling from a future age, set me up good and proper for how I see the world, enjoy it while you can. Gran never drank (a genetic glitch in her Irish DNA, thankfully it skips a generation), but one can only wonder at the double vision worldly insights she could have disseminated from the pulpit of the local chip shop. Maybe she could have even read your/our future in a portion of peas, gravy and chips.

I’ve my life to live again before reaching Gran’s then age, but I’m in the same demographic as director Edgar Wright and the merry (pissed) cast of the final chapter of the lovingly/loosely titled ‘Cornetto Trilogy’, ‘Shaun of the Dead’ and ‘Hot Fuzz’ being the previous outings. Sorta like the missing latest Testament/directors cut to the Bible, it’s optimistically called ‘The World’s End’. Within this final reading (drinking), they are setting out to warn us of a potential future (that is somewhat already here) where our lives are shit, and everything is homogenised, boring, lifeless and sold off by an alien Tory robot species.

Said aliens even have blue blood. David Cameron thankfully doesn’t make an appearance, but he’s there in soulless privatisation spirit. They aren’t really called Tory’s either though, that’s my bit.

This assemblage embarks on the road to potential enlightenment/salvation/inebriation, once called Damascus, it’s modern interpretation now slurringly and lovingly called ‘a pub crawl’, will deal with many of the issues of what it is to be alive in 2013, 40+ (though any age really), our emotional baggage packed, brimming with dissatisfaction of… well everything really, failed jobs, relationships, friendships, choices in fashion items, the usual stuff. And as I always suspected, the answers can be found at the bottom of a beer glass, you just have to be able to read them. Bit difficult though, when focus is the last ability at your disposal.

The five Musketeers namely Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Martin Freeman, Eddie Marsan and Paddy Considine, all on amazing form, set off on a crusade to find beer soaked answers by rekindling and rein acting memories of their drunken youth, the quest to actually ‘achieve’ something in their lifes, the barometer of success set at a 12 pub (the last being The World’s End), 12 pints evening out on the lash. Sure what more could you want?

Suffice to say, it is an absolute messy joy of a journey. Like some of the best nights out ever (certainly mine), it is full of friends, idiotic joy, alcohol, honesty, brilliant music (the soundtrack is the mixtape of my late teens), wonderful insights, reflection, sex in the handicapped toilets, swiftly followed by rushing blindly into future joys and regrets. Basically all of life mixed, brewed and served up in copious amounts. Thankfully I’ve had less aliens in my adventures, though some folk did make me think not of other life forms, but of forms without any bloody life.

Along with the fantastic soundtrack, script, visuals and acting (we mustn’t forget Rosamund Pike who is also brilliant when she arrives on the scene), there is a beautiful comic pathos seeped in British culture. This movie is quintessentially quirky British, in the best possible ways. Though similar in some themes and moments to Seth Rogan’s ‘This Is The End’ (another comedy great), the Team Cornetto have a wonderfully unique rich pitch to everything.

eight out of tenOnce again, I’ve stayed away from plot, lines and spoilers. There is way too much to enjoy in the final reel of this series. Admittedly there is a somewhat slow start, almost like that archetypal English reserve, but once it gets going, you’ll be on the shots, and the dance floor in no time at all.

Born in celtic lands, nurtured in art college, trained by the BBC, inspired by hunter s. thompson and released onto the battlefront of all things interesting/inspiring/good vibes... people, movies, music, clubbing, revolution, gigs, festivals, books, art, theatre, painting and trying to find letters on keyboards in the name of flushthefashion. Making sure it's not quite on the western front... and beyond.

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