Film The Batman

simonhch said:
really can’t be bothered to get into this much more than I have, but it seems my comment has riled up so many Batman fans in here
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Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
 
Mr Pigeon said:
Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
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I read the first paragraph, and the last, which went together really well. Started as I expected and finished as I anticipated. I’m sure the middle was good too.

I already know not to take your posts seriously, instead I focus on providing you with the necessary pabulum to fuel these creative fictional rampages of yours. Always worth a laugh, cheers.

I think the crux of this thread is that I said RP doesn’t look jacked enough to be Batman, more like a below average guy at the gym. Several out of shape homebodies took offence to this, and blew it out of proportion, suggesting I needed a lubed Up bodybuilder in the role - rather than the emo joe who’s got 6 weeks of P90x under his belt. Next thing I know, I’m jerking off into a paw patrol blanket.

So pretty standard Caf then.
 
simonhch said:
I really can’t be bothered to get into this much more than I have, but it seems my comment has riled up so many Batman fans in here. So really, I’ll just reiterate again what I said before. The lighting in the still image is about as flattering as you can possibly get for creating shadows on his physique, and this giving the impression of definition. He doesn’t have much mass at all, so definition is the way to go. But even with all that shadowing, he doesn’t have an impressive amount of definition at all. Meaning his body fat isn’t particularly low. It’s, let’s say, decent.

You also have to consider that any shirtless pic in a movie is happening when the actor has their best possible pump. Fair play, but if that’s post pump, the natural physique is very unimpressive.

I really wasn’t expecting him to have a bodybuilders physique, at all, but as a hardcore martial artist, you’d expect him to have a hardened physique. Which that isn’t, and none of you will ever convince me otherwise.
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:lol: if you couldn't cum to it just close your eyes an visualise mate, you'll get there.

You're overthinking it.
 
United stink and now we get a fat batman. Great!
I'm skipping my booster
 
Mr Pigeon said:
Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
Click to expand...
:lol:
simonhch said:
I think the crux of this thread is that I said RP doesn’t look jacked enough to be Batman, more like a below average guy at the gym. Several out of shape homebodies took offence to this, and blew it out of proportion, suggesting I needed a lubed Up bodybuilder in the role - rather than the emo joe who’s got 6 weeks of P90x under his belt. Next thing I know, I’m jerking off into a paw patrol blanket.

So pretty standard Caf then.
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:lol:
 
Mr Pigeon said:
Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
Click to expand...
:lol::lol:

What a story mark
 
Mr Pigeon said:
Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
Click to expand...
 
simonhch said:
I read the first paragraph, and the last, which went together really well. Started as I expected and finished as I anticipated. I’m sure the middle was good too.

I already know not to take your posts seriously, instead I focus on providing you with the necessary pabulum to fuel these creative fictional rampages of yours. Always worth a laugh, cheers.

I think the crux of this thread is that I said RP doesn’t look jacked enough to be Batman, more like a below average guy at the gym. Several out of shape homebodies took offence to this, and blew it out of proportion, suggesting I needed a lubed Up bodybuilder in the role - rather than the emo joe who’s got 6 weeks of P90x under his belt. Next thing I know, I’m jerking off into a paw patrol blanket.

So pretty standard Caf then.
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:lol: fair play
 
Mr Pigeon said:
Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
Click to expand...
FFS :lol:
 
simonhch said:
Agreed. We’ll see how the filmmaking makes up for all this, because modern techniques can make anyone look like an action star. Especially with post production work, but he definitely doesn’t look the part. Will try and reserve judgement until it comes out. But with all the takes on Batman lately, and Nolan’s trilogy being so good, it really didn’t feel this like movie was even remotely necessary.
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Hehe
 
simonhch said:
I really can’t be bothered to get into this much more than I have, but it seems my comment has riled up so many Batman fans in here. So really, I’ll just reiterate again what I said before. The lighting in the still image is about as flattering as you can possibly get for creating shadows on his physique, and this giving the impression of definition. He doesn’t have much mass at all, so definition is the way to go. But even with all that shadowing, he doesn’t have an impressive amount of definition at all. Meaning his body fat isn’t particularly low. It’s, let’s say, decent.

You also have to consider that any shirtless pic in a movie is happening when the actor has their best possible pump. Fair play, but if that’s post pump, the natural physique is very unimpressive.

I really wasn’t expecting him to have a bodybuilders physique, at all, but as a hardcore martial artist, you’d expect him to have a hardened physique. Which that isn’t, and none of you will ever convince me otherwise.
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Hey, don't lump me in with those haters.

On a more serious note, a Batman story where Bruce Wayne really is a rail-thin emo kid who uses exo-skeleton armor and thus throws everyone off the trail would be interesting.
 
hungrywing said:
Hey, don't lump me in with those haters.

On a more serious note, a Batman story where Bruce Wayne really is a rail-thin emo kid who uses exo-skeleton armor and thus throws everyone off the trail would be interesting.
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Isn’t that what this is?
 
Mr Pigeon said:
Oh, don't worry! It's fine because we know you're full of shit anyway.

I'm getting visions of you turning up to a party in your vintage Aston Martin, throwing the keys to who you think is the valet (it's not, it's just some random guy, the party is in a quiet suburb). You don't notice because it's night time and you're wearing both aviators AND Maybach sunglasses - that's right! Two pairs! You saunter into the house, clicking your fingers and pointing Fonzie style at a girl who you think was waving at you, when really all she was doing was trying to drink from her glass. You sneer as you notice it's 2008 Châteauneuf du Pape because everyone knows the 2007 was vastly superior. You mistake her sneering back as a signal that you're making her drenched.

You overhear someone talking about their new dog. A black lab puppy. You push through the group to inform them that you have a blacker dog, and spend the next ten minutes explaining why your dog is blacker using one of the PowerPoint presentations you keep in a folder marked "Material to Educate People With". You air guitar to your own theme song as you end and exit the conversation, making your way to the kitchen.

You ask the cook if they want any help with the Ragu they're making because they're making it wrong. Marco Pierre White looks around and asks "who invited this cnut?" You take off your two pairs of sunglasses to reveal a THIRD pair of sunglasses! Cheapo Louis Vuitton ones, which you inform people you wear ironically. You pause for dramatic effect as you watch people try their best to look like they haven't been paying attention to you in the slightest, but you know it's all a poor attempt at deception on their part.

Your work done, you return home. You park your Citroen Berlingo back in the driveway just in time for the plastic Aston Martin panels to fall off. You fight with the dodgy front door that doesn't lock properly and check if anyone has stolen anything. As you survey your living room - an empty TV stand, broken sofa, dead cat on a torn rug, fridge and cupboard doors ripped off the hinges and piss stains on the walls - you sigh in relief that everything is the way you left it.

You lie down on the Paw Patrol blanket you got from the Salvation Army for Christmas, have a cheeky sob for three hours, and then wank yourself to sleep.
Click to expand...
:lol:

Early Jan and post of the year already wrapped up
 
simonhch said:
Bear in mind that’s some very flattering lighting with all the shadows and also with a pump. I look like that the morning after a night on the town, in bright light, and I’ve barely worked out in a year. He’d be the smallest guy in most commercial gyms. There’s nothing impressive there. Not for a superhero.
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What :lol:
 
Twins said:
They probably spend two hours discussing how Batman can bulk up and which diet would make sense for him.
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:lol: And how having your hair side parted whilst looking sad at a fecking funeral means you're emo.
 
That’s 25 mins longer than The Dark Knight which (great as it was) was already too long.
 
val-kilmer-hey-guys-remember-when-i-was-batman.jpg
 
if its good I wouldn't give two shits about the running time. Might as well be 5 hrs if it is brilliant!
 
I don't mind that running time one bit. Means it won't be rushed through, at least. Not bothered in the slightly at longer running times at all.
 
I love that runtime, perfect!

People complain when movie rushes things and doesn't have character development time, and complain when it does and it's too long, can't win.
 
What they're trying to say with the 'announcement of the run time' goes something like this:

We've test screened it, and the unwashed masses* responded with great positivity.

*Your demographic might not have been accurately represented
 
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