So Sunday night’s ostentatious champagne and groupie-boob-groping extravaganza is over. Les Misérables dispensed its iron jackboot of trophy-accruing straight into the gonads of its competitors -in a kids-at-a-theme-park, you must have a vagina to enjoy this movie sort of way- as we knew it would. As a dramatic denouement to the evening, Justin Bieber got utterly pissed after that second sip of babycham, and got his shriveled and tiny as a seahorse in the sun dick out. It was, as such, a prestigious and dignified affair.
Why was that effeminate Canadian pop ballache there? Because screw you, that’s why.
There was one egregious miscarriage of justice at the 2013 Golden Globes, and it rankles. A salutation to TV/movies/acting/associated thesp-ery that hasn’t incorporated a Positively Lobotomised, Horrendous Video Game Voice-Acting That Makes the Flesh On Our Scrotums Crawl In a Most Disconcerting Manner award is, we’re sure you’ll attest, an abomination. We’ve sent an array of profanity-laden emails beseeching them to include such, and one of our shits in a Fed Ex box, to no avail.
As such, we’ll have to bestow our own honorary Foul-Smelling Brown Globe upon... Resident Evil. In the nineties, a peculiar epoch when cell phones were as large as housebricks and Will Smith was still the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (with that completely shit half-a-mustache he had), this was the epitome of fear in video games. It remains a classic of the highest order, long-ordained into the Pantheon of game-fame (where only the greatest titles are fed caviar by bosomy maidens and massaged -with happy finish- by supermodels. There’s also a swimming pool). There is the caveat, though, that the notorious, unintended hilarity of the voice-acting really does suck King Kong’s five-foot phallus.
Behold Exhibit A above, for instance, the godawful live-action intro to the first game. The 'actors’ therein were presumably paid in sexual favors, to be dispensed by a syphilitic, five hundred pound pensioner. As such, they appear to be entrenched in a competition to see who can plumb the depths of shitty, shitty ineptitude most effectively. (Who won? Every bastard.) It’s a shitstorm of a farce of an abomination, including such wonderment as: hamtastic overacting, the most realistic gunshot sound effects ever and a long, long, long-y long shot of the entire cast staring dramatically at NOTHING AT ALL.
In summation, then, the entire production appears to have been created by a director determinedly giving no shits. On a budget that amounted to seven cents, after the ‘actors’ had each selflessly sold their last remaining brain cells so the project could go ahead. The B-movie camp value is strong with this one, as Darth Vader once asthmatically wheezed.
A fact only exacerbated once the game begins proper. Resident Evil is revered and derided in equal measure for its woeful voicework. This is the game, lest we forget, that gave us the much-vaunted master of unlocking. We’ll conclude with the true horrors of the game. Hunters? Those green snake-men with a proclivity for thrusting their claws into your delicate, blood-bleeding genitals? Bollocks to them. This is what nastiness looks like:
- Stop it! Don’t. Open. That DOOR!
- That was too close; you were almost a Jill sandwich!
- It was... a huge snake. And also. POISONOUS!
Seriously, check out the contretempts between Chris and Wesker prior to the Tyrant’s appearance, you’ll shit.