South Africa: a jungle where dreams are made of.

So, the World Cup arrives tomorrow, and I would be lying if I were to say the anticipation wasn't making me a little light-headed. For the past few weeks, since the premiership season ended, nay, before the premiership ended, I've been thinking about precious little else other than how the Drogbas of the world will fare, who will dazzle in South Africa and who will flop, and whether or not England will, once again, crash out on penalties. As a fan of football living in England, I'm lucky in that I can actually attend matches, not to mention watch them on Sky Sports, where the attention and time put on our country's biggest sport is nothing if not meticulous. But there is something even tastier about the World Cup. Partly due, perhaps, to the fact that it only comes once every four years, or maybe that the sweltering heat in the long hot Summer (for some, not Brits, lamentably) brings out a feistier side to us all. The High School Musical factor also plays a part, ie - we all feel "united" in the mutual supporting of our country, whether we're fans of Tottenham or Tranmere Rovers. It's a combination of all these things, and many more, that makes me feel very, very happy, that starting from tomorrow, I shall be treated to a month of non-stop football.

I was out shopping a couple of weeks ago, in New Look, when I spotted these bikinis with the England flag drapped across where the tit would be. The whole thing looked horribly cheap and tacky. Similarly, England flags have infiltrated our roads via car windows and windshields, our clothes via socks, pants and god knows what else, and just about anything you can name: it's been sold with an England flag draped across it. It's embarrassingly crass, but at the same time, I wouldn't have it any other way; the anticipation and influx of marketing is what makes the World Cup what is is. Whilst the hope us England fans have in our National Team can border on delusion, it's also a credit to our passion for the game that England fans love their NT so much despite coming face to face with disappointment so much in the past. This year, there's been a noticeably more subded edge to our predictions; the majority of England fans have ditched the crowing (our below par performances in the previous World Cup and not even being able to qualify for Euro 2008 has put us in our place at long last) and decided, instead, to hope, rather than expect.

The multi-national quality of the World Cup also means that, whether intentionally or inadvertantly, I always come out of it a little more educated about the World and current affairs. I've found out more about the state of the government in North Korea this week alone than I had previously in my sad 20 years of existence. It just completes the experience of the game, I feel, to learn a little more about the players' upbringings and backgrounds. In the same vein, I generally escape the World Cup with a whole new arsenal of foreign words. I did Spanish up to AS-level and got an A, and my decision to drop it for the more Sciencey subjects still jars, even three years on. Xavi, Iker Casillas and Cesc Fabregas will have to refresh my memory with their post-match interviews, which I'm sure will be fine (in more ways than one.)

If experience has taught Bung anything, it is that she is a shit football predictor. After all, my pessimism this season led me to thinking that my beloved Chelseabung would finish third (though I was never so happy to be proved wrong.) The only thing I've ever been remotely good at predicting were the Oscars, and that's because pre-cursors were there to guide me. Nonetheless, I shall try my hand at predicting how this year's tournament will go (of course, now that I've written it out, none of this will happen):

Golden Boot: David Villa

Best Player: Xavi

Most Bookings: Wayne Rooney or John Terry (heh)

From the musical montages set to Duran Duran songs that I know the BBC will put together, to the prospect of seeing players from the same teams come ~head to head~ when representing their countries, to the naff punditry (Gareth Southgate talks football as well as he takes penalties, yet I still find him so utterly hot and would be his Loleeeeeetah any day of the week) and puns galore (The Sun writers, now's your time)... I simply cannot wait for the World Cup.

Film review: HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3 [sarcasm alert haha]

At the time of writing this, High School Musical 3: Senior Year has an extremely lowly rating of 3.3/10 on IMDb. This saddens me greatly. My friend Luke and I watched HSM3 this Wednesday, due to it being 3.30 and W. not starting until 5.30, and HSM3 starting at 3.45pm. I’m delighted that we made this choice, because it proved to be everything that cinema isn’t these days – intelligent, moving, witty, and so, so, well acted.

Troy and Gabriella are now in their final year of high school, and they still haven’t bunged. In fact, it takes them 90 whole minutes of celluloid to even have a kiss. And even then it’s not a proper kiss. Anyway, it’s time to go to college. Troy’s dad wants him to pursue his basketball, and Gabriella’s doing Law somewhere far away. Naturally, they have preoccupations over whether or not their oh-so-deep relationship will stand this trying test, but it’s nothing the odd song or two can’t sing. In fact, Gabriella even decides it would be a cool thing to – on top of all the exams they have – put on one last school musical.

Meanwhile, Sharpay’s gotten herself a Machiavellian British little manservant, her camp brother Ryan’s trying to prove to the world that he’s not really gay by winking at the girl that plays the piano, and Troy’s basketball buddy Chad is gonna miss his mate. Oh the woes.

Despite the achingly fresh and original storyline, HSM3 still stays true to its bubblegum roots, wherein all the characters will be break into song whenever they damn well please – whether that be in asking a girl to prom, in the middle of a basketball game, or, best of all – in a deserted garage, where the scene between Troy and Chad is bromancetastic.

Vanessa Hudgens deserves an Oscar for her heart-wrenching performance of the teenage girl who is torn between her loves – her education, and her stunning, not at all impotent boyfriend, although this really is a group effort, with the entire cast not putting a foot wrong throughout the entire film.

If you do not cry at the scene in which Troy finds Gabriella and they have their private prom moment, then I tell you, you have no heart. Everything in HSM3 has been building up to this moment, which is in itself a terrifically post-modern homage to Shakespearean courtly scenes. Everything about this film is perfect, and I so wish that I could sing like Ashley Tisdale.

(Nah, seriously, I liked it quite a bit – 7/10. It was totally shit of course, but ya know, in a good way. It was much funnier than Burn After Reading, at any rate. The gospel version of “We’re All in this Together” was good fun.)

Screening Log.

I never keep this damn things up, but that ain’t gonna stop me starting again. No sirree. Alright, films I saw this weekend.

High School Musical 2 (Kenny Ortega, 2007)

Hilarious, but for all the wrong reasons. Terrible acting, predictable plot, contrived characters… it was neither a step up nor a step down from its predecessor. Actually, one thing it did lack was catchy songs. HSM had “We’re All in This Together” which I’ll never forget because we sang it because we sang it in our Sixth Form Revue, as well as “Getcha Head in the Game” and “Stick to the Status Quo”. Only “Bet on it” from HSM2 will linger in my memory, and that was for Zac Efron’s dodgy dancing as much as anything. One thing that really brought the lolls, however, was how that girl was always conveniently around to play the piano whenever Troy and Gabriela needed it. Ffs.

Never Been Kissed (Raja Gosnell, 1999)

Oh, ♥. It may be because I’m feeling amorous because of the season, or me feeling soppy because I believe I’m in love, or pure nostalgia for my secondary school (cringey days and all), but practically everything about this film was endearing to me. 

Firstly, you’ve got Drew Barrymore at her loveliest, as newspaper copyright editor Josie. In order to make it as a reporter, she needs to go undercover in a high school. She, like most of us, had a pretty torrid time at high school, and after some initial failures in trying to be cool, her brother (played by David Arquette) helps her make it with the cool crowd. 

There’s a great supporting cast (including the ever-lovable John C. Reilly), some hilarious moments (the bananas…lol) a cute soundtrack, but what I loved most about this film was the chemistry between Barrymore and her teacher Michael Vartan. 

The ending, though broaching morally dubious territory, considering he thought she was a student the whole time, was still lovely, and I was so happy for Josie.

Ballad of a Soldier (Grigori Chukhrai, 1959)

Continuing with my “watching a film ‘cos it’s Russian”, I went for this minor masterpiece. Ballad of a Soldier points out how single minded and silly it would be to beef on the Russians and the beauty that an individual is capable of. Like Turtles Can Fly, Ballad of a Soldier captures the detrimental effect of war toward the country and the individual. It’s about one soldier, who possesses all the attributes that a good person should have, and is granted 6 days to go on leave: 2 to get there, 2 to spend with his mother (wherein he plans to fix her roof) and two days to return. However, in his journey, he comes across a range of people that need help, and in helping them, delay his arrival. He also develops a romance in the film, but we’re not even treated to a kiss… :( We’re told from the off that he doesn’t survive the war, but that didn’t stop me crying my eyes out at the end. Completely moving and heart-breakingly beautiful, this is highly recommended.