THANK GOD FOR THAT.

Warrior, forger, terrorist… and Rocketman.

Along with the rest of the country, we’ve been poleaxed by the news that [SPOILERS] Frances won last night’s Great British Bake Off final ahead of Ruby and Kimberley, both of whom have consistently baked her into a cocked hat for the last two months. If such a miscarriage of yeasty justice can be allowed to occur on the Beeb, then where does it end? Well, with this blog.

Kill Your Darlings is about Allen Ginsberg. Don’t be put off if you’re bored by films about him! Furore around the picture relates to Daniel Radcliffe’s performance and a brief interlude of gay sex. Yes, Ginsberg is renowned for being gay – so what? To write this film off as simply a coming-out-romance would do…

Hallowe’en is upon us! Sort of. I’d like to say that’s the reason I decided upon a rewatch of Wes Craven’s Scream, but really I’d been wanting to for a while. I don’t even care about Hallowe’en. Though the film itself is overtly educational in the rules of surviving a horror, there are so many other subtleties to be garnered from this hormone-riddled nineties bloodbath.

Journalist by trade, film-lover at heart. In between my Newspaper Journalism MA at City University, i’ve had reviews and features published in The Sun and on blogs all over the web. My favourite directors are Quentin Tarantino, Stanley Kubrick, Sergio Leone and the Coen Brothers but all cinema is a joy. Most of the time.

I am the anti-renaissance man. A childhood moving from various child-minders and libraries while both my parents worked two jobs meant I was as much educated by Nintendo, Hollywood and Dahl than any in the flesh adult role model. An adolescence failing to grasp basic human interaction has left me a socially awkward creature relying on pop culture miscellanea to converse in, and internally rationalise, an increasingly confusing world. Because when the meek eventually do inherit the Earth, it’ll be those with encyclopedic knowledge of 80s movies, and those able to discuss feminist theory using the sitcom Friends, who will be elected to positions of power. In short, while you were out doing meaningful things with your life, I was at home, watching TV.

Best For Film’s newest writer Carl Anka demolishes his BFF cherry with an essay on why film comedy has never been, and will never be, as good as it was in the 1980s. Contains borderline-diabetic levels of John Candy.

You can Cumb-a-bitch to culture, but you cannot make it sit.