If you thought that feathered mariachi bands, chameleons facing Hamlet-esque existential crises, and Pirates of the Caribbean were, in and of themselves, essentially ridiculous, farcical concepts, you’d be absolutely right. Now throw these entirely unrelated absurdities together to create one great, big, superlative mash-up of ridiculousness, and you get Rango.
And for some equally and befittingly bizarre reason, it works.
Neatly bridging the gap between this year’s glut of sci-fi films and the ongoing demand for unusual teenagers who, like, can’t fit in because they’re vampires (or werewolves or gay or whatever else), I Am Number Four will certainly be popular. Michael Bay should be crucified for ruining yet another film with his stupid flashing lights, but who cares when there’s a hunky alien loose?
How do you know what you’re going to see at the cinema next month? You’re busy people – Facebook won’t update itself, and you’ve probably got a relationship to neglect or something. Oh, you haven’t? Sorry. Well, there’s no point in trying to meet another human adult now, you may as well just read this blog.