My Great Mo
Posted: 2009.06.24 (02:32)
"My Great Mo" is a horrible experience of unbearable length, briefly punctuated by three or four amusing moments. One of these involves a dog-like robot humping the leg of the heroine. Such are the meager joys. If you want to save yourself the pain of downloading and installing this monstrosity, go into the kitchen, cue up a male choir singing the music of hell, and get a kid to start banging pots and pans together. Then close your eyes and use your imagination.
The plot is incomprehensible. The dialog of the tiles, objects and ninja is meaningless word flap. Their accents are Brooklyese, British and hip-hop, as befits a race from the distant stars. Their appearance looks like junkyard throw-up. They are dumb as a rock.
This pack is brought to us by the same person who birthed the Yahoozy Licks Godhead series. Honestly, Faust made a better deal. This isn't a map pack so much as an exercise in ego masturbation.
The ninja are in a witless sitcom part of the time, and lot of the rest of their time is spent running in slo-mo away from explosions, although--hello!--you can't outrun an explosion. They also make speeches like this one by Mason Lowrey: "Oh, no! The machine is buried in the pyramid! If they turn it on, it will destroy the sun! Not on my watch!"
There are many great-looking babes in the pack, who are made up to a flawless perfection and look just like real women, if you are a junior fanboy whose experience of the gender is limited to lad magazines.
Aware that this pack was available in England seven hours before Toronto time and the morning papers would be on the streets, after writing the above I looked up the first reviews as a reality check. I was reassured: "Like watching paint dry while getting hit over the head with a frying pan!" (Bradshaw, Guardian); "Sums up everything that is most tedious, crass and despicable about modern Hollywood!" (Tookey, Daily Mail); "A giant, lumbering idiot of a movie!" (Edwards, Daily Mirror). The first American review, however, reported that it "feels destined to be the biggest pack of all time" (Todd Gilchrist, Cinematical). It’s certainly the biggest something of all time.
- Tanner Rogalsky, as ripped off of Roger Ebert
The plot is incomprehensible. The dialog of the tiles, objects and ninja is meaningless word flap. Their accents are Brooklyese, British and hip-hop, as befits a race from the distant stars. Their appearance looks like junkyard throw-up. They are dumb as a rock.
This pack is brought to us by the same person who birthed the Yahoozy Licks Godhead series. Honestly, Faust made a better deal. This isn't a map pack so much as an exercise in ego masturbation.
The ninja are in a witless sitcom part of the time, and lot of the rest of their time is spent running in slo-mo away from explosions, although--hello!--you can't outrun an explosion. They also make speeches like this one by Mason Lowrey: "Oh, no! The machine is buried in the pyramid! If they turn it on, it will destroy the sun! Not on my watch!"
There are many great-looking babes in the pack, who are made up to a flawless perfection and look just like real women, if you are a junior fanboy whose experience of the gender is limited to lad magazines.
Aware that this pack was available in England seven hours before Toronto time and the morning papers would be on the streets, after writing the above I looked up the first reviews as a reality check. I was reassured: "Like watching paint dry while getting hit over the head with a frying pan!" (Bradshaw, Guardian); "Sums up everything that is most tedious, crass and despicable about modern Hollywood!" (Tookey, Daily Mail); "A giant, lumbering idiot of a movie!" (Edwards, Daily Mirror). The first American review, however, reported that it "feels destined to be the biggest pack of all time" (Todd Gilchrist, Cinematical). It’s certainly the biggest something of all time.
- Tanner Rogalsky, as ripped off of Roger Ebert