In terms of what you’d want to see at your local cinema, most of the movies coming in 2010 rank just below “dropping your Oscar Meyer hot Dog on the floor”.

Well, worry not faithful cineaste, for now we come to some slabs of celluloid you might actually want to see…and discover the law of diminishing returns is still very much in effect.

Wipe the popcorn from your beard and join us then, as we realise we’ve got piss-all to look forward to this summer, in part three of our amazingly awful 2010 movie round-up!!

11: Alice in Wonderland.

Sigh. Go on then. Put on your stripy knee socks, home-dye your hair blue. Have a blast. I once met Helena Bonham-Carter you know, and she looks exactly like this in real life!

Expect Jonny Depp to trade on the fact that he’s finally at that age where men start looking like your slightly creepy maternal aunt -and wonder if he can expect a promising career awaits in the inevitable musical version of ‘Pushing Daisies’ : Altogether now
“ A pie? A pie! A magiiiicalll pie of the undeeeeeaaaadddddd…” Practically writes itself.

Anyhoo, one for your inner goth this one, cover yourself in soot and enjoy.

12: Cop Out

So, it was called ‘A Couple of Dicks’ , but then Hollywood hearthrob and all -round (in every sense of the word) ice cream fan Kevin Smith wussed right out on us and changed it. This from a man who built a career based on dick n’ fart jokes. Backed up by Bruce Willis. Sigh.

Expect Willis to smirk and wisecrack, and make an uncommonly high number of Aquaman references as he and My name is Earl chase down a baseball card or something equally stupid.

13:The Book Of Eli

Oh Denzel. For every Oscar-tempter there’s a load of old quasi-mystical gobledegook isn’t there? We can only assume that the American Gangster star has made some unholy Mephistolean bargain that forces him to pop up in crap like Fallen every other year.

Anyway, this is something to do with a magic book and Gary Oldman. After the Apocalypse. Because that was cool three years ago.

14: Paul

Part the third of Pegg and Frost’s Cornetto trilogy. Plot? Well, obviously jumping over a fence will play a pivotal role, but in an effort to find out more the professional researchers in our office checked out little-known website Wikipedia, which had the following to say:

Two British comic book geeks (Pegg and Frost) go on a road trip through America. On the way, they discover an alien named Paul (voiced by Seth Rogen) at Area 51.

Sounds good doesn’t it? If you’re a complete dick machine. Or worse, read student magazines and laugh at them. Proof positive that pegg should be shot from a photon torpedo tube at the earliest opportunity.

15: Iron Man II

Like the first film but with extra Martinis and Mickey Rourke doing that thing he does instead of acting. I once met Fenriz from legendary black Metal band Darkthrone in a bar, and he told me that Mickey Rourke was cooler than Bruce Willis.

Basically what I’m saying is that if you like Mickey Rourke or think he’s good, then you are gay for Black Metal bands. Anyway, in this he plays a lesbian super criminal (honestly – look, here she is fighting Spider-Man) Whiplash.

It’ll probably be quite good, but not as good as Thor. Possibly.

16:Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Not to be confused with Cameron’s tale of the owl and the 3D alien pussycat from 2009 –although we’re hoping that confusion will guide a few more hapless fools this way – this airbender is the wiggly, wandery based-on-a-weird-Chinese-cartoon story of a small, bald dude and some other kids messing about in a badly thought out mystical world with added M.Night Shitealogue.

Oh-and there’s a huge bison in it too.

Anyway, basically it follows our heroes as they wander hither and thither upon the Earth –which may or may not be our future, hoping some bald midget can be a bigger bender (yes, really) than the current eeeevil overlord.

Almost as bad as The Happening.

17: Season of the Witch

Will it be scary? It’ll certainly be hairy. As Nic Cage continues to display his all-action wig fetish in some cobblers about a night -with a southern accent naturally – transporting an accused witch. A sexy accused witch.

Named after a Donovan song, which leads us to wonder how long before someone films a slasher called Hurdy Gurdy Man.

18:Bitch Slap.

A She-Woman-Girl-Power-vagina-monologue-meets-boob-job-action-comedy pile of shit. Look at those boobies and tell me this really furthers the feminist cause. Anyway, Xena’s in it, so you can admire how big and muscley and just all-round butch she is without having to come all the way out.

Enjoy!

19: Leap Year.

Right, if Amy Adams wanted to marry you, would you refuse?

No, neither would I, but apparently it’s an Irish tradition (it isn’t) that women can propose to dudes on Feb 29th, and if I was an Irish-loving Hollywood Junior exec who was one-thriteenth-Irish-but-not-the-real-kind-the-American-kind, then I’d probably make this movie as well.

Take the ‘My Great-Grand-Uncle once bought a bike from an Irish man which makes me Irish’ idiot in your life and to quote the trailer: “Get ready to lose your mind…”

20: Wolf Man

Vampires? Soooooo last year man. Wolves are ‘Were’ it’s at. Did you see what I did there?!?! I’m wasted on you I really am.

Anyway,Benicio Del Toro somehow manages to be even hairier than he was in The Way of the Gun, while ruthless marketers try to make us forget just how boring the original was.

Well, 2010 looks bloody terrible doesn’t it? Full of crap monsters and awful toupee’s for the most part -to be fair, there are some actually look quite good movies coming up -  the ’suckered you in’ Kick Ass, Hot Tub Time Machine, Youth In Revolt and even ridiculous angel revenge flick Legion has it’s moments – but why should we bring a ray of sunshine into your otherwise miserable lives by mentioning them? We’re not a public service you know. Just be thankful we didn’t mention Wanted 2 (an evil loom, I mean really…) and stay in bed until the Conan reboot arrives.

Happy New year!

After spending New Years Day cleaning what, for argument’s sake, we’ll assume was mud mixed with chewing gum off the office floor, we finally had time to carry on checking out all the new movies crawling out of the toilet to infect your eyeballs like refugees from an early Cronenberg movie in the new year. Yep, it’s part two of our craptabulous round up of the biggest, worstest flicks of 2010!

6: The A-Team

The group ‘convicted of a crime they didn’t commit’ have been updated from Vietnam to the far less interesting Iraq War, but otherwise everything from Hannibal’s cigar to Murdoch’s hat is present and correct – look at this picture, Liam Neeson looks aces doesn’t he? Unfortunately, like everything ever made in the 80s, the A-Team was a load of crap, so expect to see whatsisface from The Hangover driving a cabbage-firing tank at some terrorists intent on taking over a suspiciously attractive girl’s farm in Wyoming and tell me that you think it’ll be cool. You idiot.

7: Twilight: Eclipse

To be honest I only stuck this piece of shit in here so that extra teenage girls would check out the site. Unfortunately they’ll all be chaste Mormons so it won’t do me any good. Not satisfied with pumping out two steaming loaves of vampiarrhoea, the studio money-sharks couldn’t resist farting out yet more of Stephanie Meyer’s absolute crap into your eyeballs. Expect a weird, borderline paedophilia love triangle and strong anti-feminist messages. Also expect girls with IQ’s lower than their pet Chihuahuas to love it, and for it to be a big pile of pigtarded claptrap.

8:The Expendables

Sly and the boys hide their bus-passes and stagger about in the jungle blowing shit up. Fuck yeah!

9:The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Both preceding Narnia films were badly put together shambles that not many people bothered to see, and those that did bother – didn’t like. So, sounds like a good idea to make another one doesnt it? Siblings Lucy, Edmund, Rudolph, Prancer, Frankenstein and Dopey head back to the slightly boring mystical land to fanny about on a ship with big bad brooding Ben Barnes, Eddie Izzard is oh-so-hilarious as an annoying mouse that would make Willy Wonka vomit, and Fox happily flush their cash down the Dawn Treader’s bilges for no apparent reason. Heaven’s Gate!

10: The Three Stooges

Probably not one for the ladies, as the Farrely brothers give Benicio Del Toro a bowl cut and provide plenty of wish fulfillment by pushing Sean Penn down a flight of stairs and smacking Jim Carrey in the face with a plank. With hilarious consequences.

Well, we have hangovers to re-enforce, so we’ll take a short break, but join us again shortly for part three, where we might even slip in a couple of films worth seeing (don’t count on it though)!

Somewhere out there in movie fan land, there’s a hardcore group that dare not speak their name. I’m talking of course, about the Dracula: Dead and Loving It aficionados. Every night they sit in their care home, drooling and guffawing as Leslie Nielson falls face first down a staircase, a strange cloud of melancholy clouding the mood as they realise that, try as the Wayans Brothers may, there will never again be a vampire film that shit.

Until now.

Taking every godawful, moronic college stereotype imaginable, and playing them off against every stupid Hollywood cliché about Europe you’ve ever seen, the entire thing plays out like some hyper-real expose on bad filmmaking. Unfortunately duel directors David and Scott Hillenbrand (“The people who bought you ‘Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers” is strangely absent from the poster…) don’t seem to be going for so-bad-it’s-good territory, instead labouring under the misapprehension that the script contains genuine moments of wit.

It’s a sad fact that there’s obviously something in the water in North California these days, leading filmmakers to dispense with actual jokes, instead assuming that a midget will do just as well. In between moments of vomit-inducing craptitude, we follow a variety of unlikeable idiots across ‘Transylvania’ (looking absolutely nothing like South Cali obviously), led by a bubble headed – and bubble titted – blonde twit, blundering from one badly conceived sketch with no clear punchline to the next.

Making Dude Where’s My Car look like Ibsen, the script chucks in as many topless go-go vampires and as much fake blood as it can find time for to secure that enticing R rating, although the only adult I can imagine having a use for this would be a practising date rapist wondering where to take that cheerleader that talks on her phone through the entire movie.

The sheer levels of moribund anti-humour on display beggar belief, as a variety of badly accented vampires attack nasal-whine leads for no apparent reason, while a buck-toothed Kate Beckinsale-alike does her worst as a vampire hunter, leading to a ‘hilarious’ misunderstanding.

Utter, utter shite, not even reaching the depths plumbed by Lesbian Vampire Killers before it, you’d be better off spending 90 minutes coming up with protracted torture ideas to try out on the team responsible.

The first Twilight movie was a vaguely faithful adaptation of Ms.Meyer’s work, with overly florid prose translating as an overly long movie that just scraped past our twee sensors into the ’sort of ok’ category thanks to director Catherine Hardwicke nailing an atmosphere of repressed teenage sexuality that lent just the right amount of tension to proceedings. Unfortunately Golden Compass helmer Chris Weitz takes no such risks, slavishly following the purple passages to produce an uneven film that would benefit from healthy dash of irony.

The mopey, very teenage scenario is played to the hilt throughout, with new characters barely introduced and far too much time spent on wistful staring out of windows, resulting in a film that continually slows to a crawl. While it’s perhaps admirable that there are no concessions made to newcomers, it’s also unprofessional to assume that every viewer will be completely versed in this particular Vampire lore. Make no mistake, this is squarely targeted at girls of a certain age with rampant R-Patz lust at the forefront of their minds.

Plot wise, heartbreak is high on the agenda, as Edward’s family decide they’d rather scarf Bella down with ketchup than bond with her. To avoid a repeat performance, Edward leaves her,entrusting her care – as you do – to jailbait werewolf Jacob (a heroically brooding Taylor Lautner). We’re already into the realm of the preposterous McGuffin, and there’s precious little to help you take things seriously. Edward struts around, taking on some unfortunately bargain basement Werewolves as the misery heightens to operatic levels, only broken up by a variety of young men ripping their shirts off, occasionally in slow motion. Dialogue is portentous in the extreme, the supposedly dramatic pauses deployed regularly enough to induce a bizarre, Shatner-like cadence throughout.

Despite the frothing bile it induced in sections of the audience, it’s unprofessional to moan about the..erm…moaning. Overwrought suffering is as central to the mythos as a killer robot is the The Terminator. This is a film about the compelling totality of first love – judged from a distance it’s melodramatic and ridiculous, but for devotees it’s all-important. Judged on its own merits, New Moon contains exactly as much Pattison cod-heroics and oiled body flexing as the book and for fans that’s surely all that matters.

A very specifically targeted, bloody ridiculous mess that will either put you into paroxysms of angsty lust or have you rolling your eyes as our hero skips in slow motion through the enchanted forests of the Pacific Northwest (backed up by – it has to be said – a pitch-perfect indie soundtrack that’s really far too good for this sort of thing). It isn’t a great film, but it is a future guilty pleasure that efficiently sets up characters and events for next year’s ‘Eclipse’.

Generally, we watch any old crap round here – in the interest of being a representative, even-handed site obviously – from Marley & Me to Apocalypse Now,it’s all fair grist to the review grinder-yep,we even sat through Troll 2 once.

But just occasionally there are some movie crimes so cynical and heinous in their deployment that we’re robbed of even the enjoyment bought by bright shapes moving around a large screen.
Twilight: New Moon is one of them…

The Twilight Saga’s advance guard of posters and promos have been doing the rounds for a few weeks now, it’s gangsta/Calvin Klein ad Werewolves looking like the world’s worst boy band as they balefully bring to life everything awful about post-Rowling fiction in one sanitised, imaginatively stultified package

The reasons for the unerring – and to most people over 30,completely mystifying – popularity of the Virginity-embracing Goth-a-thon are manifold and as ancient as the vampire myth itself, but the main one?

Boredom.

To contextualise; it’s probably worth remembering at this point that tabloid fodder Cradle of Filth are from a small country village, the interminable ennui of small-town existence producing gratuitous, theatrical stabs at an inescapable conformity that have absolutely nothing to do with the isolationist work of their contemporaries

Twilight has risen from the endless malaise of the American Midwest. Despite the stunning scenery, for many growing up there it’s an endless vista of mini-malls and soccer meets, a land robbed of endless opportunity that retains a general snobbishness for any authentic ‘old-world’ culture (”What do you eat in Britain?” Is a standard enquiry I received while travelling), and while this is a gross oversimplification; in terms of romance, Utah is up there with Chernobyl.

It’s no wonder then that the Disneyfied, stripey-sock Goth peddled by Hot topic is grasped so ravenously by teenagers in a locale where dying your hair or missing church is a rebellious act, and although tweens the world over go through endless recycling of these tropes the constant marketing of them as a substitute for genuine invention is a troubling one. Potter and his ilk are the spawn of daytime TV and half-remembered nursery tales, rather than any familiarity with actual fantastical literature. It may be churlish to suggest, but I’d be sorely surprised if J.K’s library included anything by Lord Dunsany. Tapping into a culturally bereft society doesn’t gift a work with any greater kudos.

Likewise Twilight is born of a warped, half developed sexuality, a flirting with defiance in the face of the US religious machine, and the deeply unsatisfied and unrealised yearnings of its author. Vampires are the ultimate asexual – the bite representing a non-threatening penetration – that means they are non-threatening romantic partners, perfect grist for the mill of the unsettlingly carried out (if well-intentioned) Chastity movement the books encourage. While virginity and chastity are both admirable qualities, they are very personal ones that shouldn’t be enforced by mass-media or religion; to do so is a backwards step, rather than a liberating one. Here non-sensationalist information is the key, not mass hypnosis.

Most movies try to sell you a tie-in computer game and a McDonald’s happy meal. Twilight tries to sell you morality.

Twilight (And Buffy beforehand, although Weedon at least realised this and had fun with it) is in effect Mills and Boone without the edge. Here there’s no sex, and while there’s haemoglobin aplenty even death is robbed of it’s power.

Author Stephanie Meyer claims the novel is about ‘losing true love’, but has aimed it squarely at a population so cut off from genuine interaction the word becomes meaningless, a substitute for parental affection and an excuse to pretend at the rebellious. In one of the most telling scenes Bella’s ability to commune with Edward is enhanced when she pursues ‘The Dangerous’. In this case, riding a motorcycle – that ever present symbol of disaffection for American youth. Meyer has crafted a work where motorcycles and leather jackets stand-in for danger, where Italy represents the entire planet outside the Midwestern bowl, and where dreaming of wider horizons inevitably leads to terror and sadness-or at least a simulation of it.

New Moon offers an endless curse – one of morbid, flatulent commercialism infecting its victims with a warped feminine ideal where the answer to everything is a good man who doesn’t want to have sex. It has more in common with Mona the Vampire than Dracula – this is sex and death without the sex and death played out by blandly attractive mannequins whose only supernatural power is the height of their hair.

Excited yet?

Zombie apocalypses may be all the rage these days, but it’s heartening to see that other cretures that go bump in the night aren’t being completely ignored. Witness the new trailer for Daybreakers, with the always value for money Sam Neil leads a particularly stellar cast fighting a Vampire plague ridden Earth.
Let’s face it-any movie with Willem DeFoe firing a crossbow at Dracula has to be worth a look right?

With chilly crapola-fest Whiteout currently packing idiots into multiplexes across the globe, STS investigates Hollywood’s long, unhappy tradition of snow-bound terror and destruction. Put on your furry hat and long johns and follow us then dear reader, as we explore the –quite literally-coolest characters, scenes and entire movies that utilise the snow, ice and general brrr-chilly-ness of the tundra to such startling effect; yep, it’s the STS guide to: Arctic Flicks!

Mr. Freeze – Batman and Robin.

An awful lot is made of Bat-Clooney’s built in nipples, and Alicia Silverstone’s Bat-sidecar –surely the worst crimemobile in history. But one of the few redeeming features in Joel Silver’s franchise crushing idiot-a-thon has to be the ice rink fight. Now, why the hell Bats would have skates built into his suit isn’t explained, but there’s no denying the bone-crunching fun of an ice skate kick to the face. And who’s responsible for all this frozen carnage? The Governator himself; Big Arnie’s Mr.Freeze.
Is this Arnie’s greatest movie? It’s certainly hard to argue with lines like “You’re not sending me to da cooler”
It’s also nice to know that Arnie’s contracts always contain a sub-clause: He gets to keep his wardrobe. I’m sure you’ll be comforted whenever you remember that the man in charge of one of the planet’s largest economies –and with access to one of its largest nuclear arsenals – has a glowing blue and white suit of armour in his closet.

The Thing.

The Daddy. Hands down Carpenter’s best work, even knocking Escape From New York into a furry hat. For starters, it’s just plain weird. That fuzzy, dissolving logo, the brave move to full-on show the flying saucer at the start. Then there’s the helicopter chase. When was the last time you saw a movie open with people shrieking in Norwegian and throwing grenades at a dog, watched by a bunch of misfits and some looming, ominously Lovecraftian mountains. Sure, the whole thing has a very serious AIDS undercurrent, but it manages to be almost as scary as the disease itself. Man’s inhumanity to Man –and Dog – erupting long before we really see any tentacles, it takes the lone wolf Mack to hold things together, and he only manages it by being the most cynical and mistrustful of the lot. Demented and bloody brilliant!

Marge Gundersson -Fargo.

Up there with The Dude in terms of quality Coen, the only thing worse than the weather in Fargo is the Minnesota accents don’tcha know. Marge Gundersson cuts a pretty feeble figure, but she’s still the sharpest tack in the very dull box that is Brainerd, North Dakota. Ruthlessly pursuing some Kinda-Funny_lookin’ villains across midwestern pacake house and motel alike, and catching up despite the worst witness statements in film history, she’s cinema’s top –and possibly only –heavily pregnant detective lead.

Vampires -30 Days of Night.

On the face of it this is a pretty bog-standard Hollywood Horror. It’s not that scary, it’s got a sheen of production slickness that robs it of real terror. But what it’s also got counterbalances this. It’s got COLD. When the sun goes down in the extreme north it doesn’t come up again for a month. Great news if you’re a vamp, but painfully unfunny if you’re on the menu. The conceit is great –no explaining where that ship has come from, or where the bloodsuckers are planning to go when the month is up, just hinted mythology – and bad continuity – resulting in a quick and bloody shocker who’s monsters annoy as much as terrify – there really can’t be many cinema goers who didn’t want to slap that baldy bloodsucker around a bit.

Box –Logan’s Run.

“Fresh proteins from the sea!” It doesn’t really rank with “Prepare to die!” in terms of classic threats, but what do you expect from a cardboard lunatic who alternates between feeding penguins and blasting hapless escapees with a fire extinguisher? As a villain Box is, it has to be said –crap. His weird pipe-cleaner/drainpipe arms only really good for cleaning fish bits from Seal’s teeth, he looks like a demented AGA. That said, when it comes to eliminating subterraneous simpletons and blowing Jenny Agutter’s dress off, he the man!

AT-ATs -The Empire Strikes Back.

There’s not much that hasn’t been said about Empire. It’s generally agreed to be the best Star Wars film, and around the STS office it goes toe to toe with RoboCop as ‘greatest movie ever made’. But why is it so fantastic? Is it the Muppet-based spirituality? Is it the ‘hand lopped off’ fight? There’s certainly no major space battle barring some asteroid cat n’ mouse –so what is it? Simple; It’s the sight of some 10-storey tall metallic dogs with concussion lasers coming out of their faces, stalking across the ice and blowing the crap out of everything in their way. Quite possibly the best battle scene ever filmed, it’s technically brilliant (Bluescreen model shots on a white background? In 1982, it simply couldn’t be done), perfectly paced, and there’s a genuine hint of danger as Luke’s co-pilot Dak gets squished under that giant steel foot, and consider the perfect malice as a giant AT-AT takes a moment out to pick off a lone, fleeing rebel trooper before targeting the base’s main generator. Let’s face it; the only thing missing is a Heavy Metal soundtrack.
Awesome in every way, shape and form, and for this reviewer’s money-the best thing ever to grace a cinema screen hands down.

In a frankly shocking display of prejudice, Hollywood has traditionally shunned the dead. Oh sure, there’s plenty of zombie movies out there, but when is the last time you saw a dead guy get the girl-and not eat her brains? STS sets out to redress the balance by bring you Six of The Best: Movie Dead Guys!

Sloth- Se7en

You know its coming. They break into the apartment; they wander around, lifting the plastic sheeting slowly and lurching backwards. If you’ve been to film school in the past 10 years you probably wrote an essay on the use of the Pavlovian response. He’s tied to the bed, looking like Skeletor’s S&M fancying cousin, and he’s dead as a doornail. Lean in closer detective, he smells a bit but there’s nowt to fear here. Until of course…That Ain’t No Corpse Grandma! The only dead body on the list to have forgone that whole pesky dying thing, Sloth gets our vote for possibly the finest ‘Cat-In-Closet’ shock in movie history. Possibly because the regular furry kitty has been replaced by a weeping, insane rictus that’s eaten its own tongue.

Bernie Lomax –Weekend at Bernies

Think of the truly great cinematic actors. Olivier, Brando, DiNiro. Presences that fill the screen with their intensity, burning emotion and conviction into the hearts and minds of the audience. Now ask yourself, honestly. Could any one of those screen heroes have played dead as well as TV regular Terry Kiser? Could you keep a straight face while a horny dog drags you off a balcony by your balls? Or while required to Conga with a paraletically drunk starlet in a bikini? No way, Dustin Hoffman has nothing compared to this guy, which is why he is and ever shall be cinemas greatest dancing corpse!

Bubba Ho-Tep

Yeah Yeah Yeah, there’ve been other mummies. Their was Nephren-Ka in Universal’s The Mummy, there was that bald dude in..er..The Mummy…but none of them was bad enough to wear a ten gallon hat and beat up a Karate-ing Elvis. Ho-Tep sucks the life outta oldies and lightbulbs alike with his mere presence, so it’s ironic that he’s finally despatched by a couple of septegenarians with back – and brain – problems. This ignoble demise doesn’t stop him dressing to kill in the smartest pair of western boots ever to walk outta Memphis.

Evil Ash - Army of Darkness

Despite looking like boil in the bag Spaghetti Bolognese, Evil Ash takes having his arms and legs chopped off in his stride, giving us one of cinemas greatest rising from the grave sequences. He commands a huge army of skeletons despite behaving like the fourth Stooge most of the time, and is the only action figure ever to arrive with Kung-Fu grip AND ‘Detachable Jaw’. Altogether now:” I…Live….AGAAAAAIINNNN!!!!!”

Dracula

Easily the best dressed cadaver in the house, Drac is the only necrotic body you’d ever feel comfortable taking to an opera. Capable of turning into a wolf, he’s his own best friend, which may explain why he’s happy enough sitting alone in his study when he has three nymphomaniac vampire women waiting in the bedroom. Even managing to be cool when George Hamilton is playing him, Drac is the thinking ladie’s corpse.

Death – Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey

Not content with his more traditional role as king of the dead, Death enjoys taking time out to win the Indy 500 on foot and release terrible bass solo albums. His Bergman-esque style extends to a head as smooth as his ‘Reaping burn a lot of calories’ sculpted behind, and he’s good with both a sickle and a shopping cart. The first dead dude brave enough to attempt transvestism in front of God Almighty, Death is the epitome of both poor sportsmanship and Rot N’ Roll. The only ex-person you’d want to go to a party with.