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Havoc (2025) Review

Havoc (2025) is a mixed bag of a movie, there’s a plot which is fine and characters who are inoffensively fine. And then there’s the action. I don’t think I’ve seen chaotic gunfights look better, there’s tons of kinetic camera work that conveys an authentic feeling that if you were in a gunfight it probably would be disorienting and the way characters try not to get shot is engaging. The trouble is the same movie also has melee fighting that’s miles better. Automatic weapons fired at large groups of guys just don’t carry the same weight as martial arts and improvised weapons.  The point that demonstrates this best is in the film's only real boss fight,  Michelle Waterson plays ‘the Assassin’ and goes to town on Tom Hardy in a scene that’s easily the highpoint of the movie. The way their fight is shot is so dynamic and impactful and it ends on a fun joke. I’d love to see another film (like a 3rd Raid movie) shot that well, but with the Raid 1 and 2s focus on brawls over shootouts. Overall I like this movie a fair bit, but the bits I like most make the rest feel weaker. 

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The new boss's son has come down for a look around when we finds and old pro chained up in the basement.

SONNY: Are you okay?

PRO: Can't complain.

SONNY: Who are you?

PRO: I could ask you the same.

SONNY: I'm... my father runs this place. He sent me down to look around.

PRO: He here too?

SONNY: He prefers a distant approach. Sorry, what are you doing here?

PRO: Not much. Why?

SONNY: You're bleeding.

PRO: Eagle took my liver.

SONNY: I'm sorry.

PRO: It'll be back.

SONNY: Your liver or -

PRO: Both.

SONNY: But why are you here at all?

PRO: Long story short some guy comes up to me, he says 'you got a light?'.

SONNY: Really?

PRO: That's what they tell people.

SONNY: They?

PRO: The owners. I mean, previous owners.

SONNY: I'm sorry.

PRO: You didn't do this, and you don't strike me as the eternal torment type.

SONNY: I'm all about forgiveness me.

PRO: Wouldn't that be something. Don't suppose you met the previous?

SONNY: No.

PRO: You would not believe the infighting. Or inbreeding for that matter. It's just your dad then?

SONNY: And me.

PRO: What happens if you disagree?

SONNY: We don't. As far as you're concerned, I am he and he is me.

PRO: You have all his authority?

SONNY: Exactly.

PRO: You could free me then.

SONNY: Of course, and I will. Right away. And I apologize. For the eternal torment you've experienced so far.

PRO: To be fair, I haven't experienced any eternal torment yet. I'd hate to knock it before I'd tried. It'll always and forever only have been a finite time so far. Sure I've had so much unconvincing agony. But it could do me good in another google goes or so?

SONNY: What do you even do here?

PRO: Lots of chess.

SONNY: With?

PRO: The eagle will not be taught. So mostly myself.

SONNY: Would you like a game?

PRO: Wouldn't mind.

SONNY: You any good?

PRO: I've solved up to a 504 by 504 board, and can force a stalemate as high as 600 by 600.

SONNY: Maybe some other time.

PRO: After you've freed me?

SONNY: Exactly. I really am sorry.

PRO: It's not so bad as it happens. Ergonomic chair, no responsibilities. It could be way way worse. Can you imagine having some repetitive task? I would not be happy with that.

SONNY: I should get to freeing you.

PRO: If you wouldn't mind.

SONNY: He really is trying to do better.

PRO: Your dad?

SONNY: He had this vengeful phase.

PRO: He wouldn't be the first.

SONNY: I mean he wouldn't do something so -

PRO: Baroque.

SONNY: As this. But he -

PRO: Sounds like you're a good influence on him.

SONNY: Thank you. I'm trying. You ever feel like, like it's going to be your year?

PRO: A year of you?

SONNY: The year of me finally doing something constructive.

PRO: Can't say I've felt that way for a while.

SONNY: Right, sorry.

PRO: You apologise a lot.

SONNY: I'm sorry.

PRO: A lot is better than not at all. I'm far too familiar with people who refuse to recognise when they're wrong. When no body's perfect.

SONNY: Well...

PRO: You aren't going to ask what I did then?

SONNY: Does it matter?

PRO: Maybe I'm not so high minded as you, but I'd be curious at least, before releasing a stranger.

SONNY: Whatever you did, whoever you did it too, even if they're not here, I can forgive you.

PRO: Convenient. But you're not even a little curious?

SONNY: Now it sounds like you want to tell me.

PRO: Could be it's a good story.

SONNY: Someone asking you for a light?

PRO: I don't think that's what it was.

SONNY: I did want to ask one thing. The bird. Could you forgive it?

PRO: For what?

SONNY: Disembowelling you? Repeatedly?

PRO: I never really held it against her.

SONNY: How don't you?

PRO: Bird doesn't know better. Hard to begrudge someone who doesn't see any other ways for things to be.

SONNY: She doesn't know what she's doing?

PRO: She might, but that's not the same thing as having other options. I prefer to think about doing the best thing from where you are. Like I haven't watered any of the plants, but I can hardly hold that against myself when my hands are tied. Speaking of.

SONNY: Right away.

PRO: I think that's what did it. It wasn't giving those guys a light. I mean fire is hardly hard to discover in the first place. But I told them something else.

SONNY: Told them what?

PRO: Things didn't have to be this way.

SONNY: Oh.

PRO: The old guard did not like that. Cause see when things don't have to be this way. We can do better...

SONNY: That sounds aspirational.

PRO: Archetypally aspirational. Only with just the tiniest hint of heresy.

SONNY: I don't see how.

PRO: If things can be different, then maybe they won't always be on top. Someone else could, well you're living proof that can happen.

SONNY: Suppose I am.

PRO: And whoever comes after you will be too.

SONNY: After me?

PRO: Can't help but notice your taking your time with these binding?

SONNY: I should consult my father.

PRO: About what?

SONNY: You.

PRO: Happy to meet him in the flesh, when I'm more mobile.

SONNY: No, I mean...

PRO: You don't have the authority?

SONNY: I do, doesn't mean I can't benefit from his council.

PRO: Right. You wouldn't want to rush into freeing me. And the Eagle won't be back until tomorrow anyway. I'd hate to go without saying goodbye to her. You should get his permission.

SONNY: I didn't say permission.

PRO: I misspoke.

SONNY: I don't need his permission.

PRO: So we're back on with freeing me.

SONNY: We would be.

PRO: Would be?

SONNY: Only, I... I hurt my wrists recently.

PRO: No hard feelings.

SONNY: I don't -

PRO: You can always do different. And if you don't, the next one will.

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Pitch for future BioWare style RPGs

So half way through the game, you've gathered your team of diverse and fun characters and you're ready for your first big strike on the villains. And It works, it's so easy because the villains have been torn apart by infighting and they're all dead. But they've left the source of their evil powers out in the open, and the whole party is there. The second half of the game becomes surviving the subsequent free for all.

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One of my favourite poetry nights by Process Productions, lovely people all round.

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Me doing a poem at the gobjaw poetry collective in london.

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When you want to draw a picture book but you run out of animals you can draw after 1.5. I have the rest of the plot written out and everything but I need artists to help.

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Recording of my play For One Night Only from the East London Theatre Collective's New Works Festival 2023.

 For 1 Night Only by Avouleance (they/them)

 Directed by Sebastian Wie Murphy (he/him)

 Staring Jessy Johnson (they/them) and Poet The Jules (they/them)

 Original Song 'Anachroclasm' by Jessy Johnson 

 Video by Sabrina Kelleher (she/her)

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On Pollution

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This will always have happened After its unhung from the air

And over the hills

This will always have happened Hard as I try However much better I am This will always have happened I wish it hadn’t

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Arson Season

It hurts to hold this hissing light.

Sears the skin.

Leaves ugly scars.

Where it tears with acrid claws.

Screams if I try and creep to sleep.

Burns down dreams.

Bakes me awake, to be.

Seethed and drenched in leaden dread. 

Suffocates each face. 

Behind fluttering red flags.

Brightens the light.

But makes the shadows starker.

Scares the sheep. 

But scalds the wolf.

Warms my corpse.

And keeps me wise.

My sweet oblivious babe.

I’m sorry you’ll inherit my head.

Catch each contagious fear.

And even if it’s never worth it.

Please at least burn long enough. 

To forgive me.

For sprinkling you with sparks.

Art by @ginger-snap-makes-art

And Tim J Burges

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This is a Love Poem

This is a love poem. 

This is a poem about love. 

This is a poem about our love. 

This is a poem about my love for you. 

This is a poem about my love for your exposed surface. 

This is a poem about my love for the sides of your exposed surface facing the sun. 

This is a poem about my love for the extent of your lit surface you allow me to explore. 

This is a poem about my love for the portions of you my exhausted form has energy left to caress. 

This is the poem about as much love for you my empty breath can contain. 

This is only a poem about all the love I am capable of.

We swam in amber sun

Sipped ambrosia

And you said

Don’t remember me too eloquently…  

This is an insult isn't it?  Art by Sophie Thunk

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Their Echoes

Everyday there’s someone new who doesn’t know.

Everyday there’s someone new who needs to be told old news.

Everyday there’s someone new I have to tell, 

you died.

And yet everyday I decide to wear your ring.

The fine but fragile golden thing around my finger.

Makes a mighty manacle for something so small.

Too tight even at the time, which hasn’t been kind.

And heavier than a ring has any right to be.

When Orpheus only had to look around to be rid of Eurydice. 

They always ask where you are. 

After they say they hadn’t heard of you.

Didn’t even know I had a husband. 

Or wife, they add reflexively. 

They wonder why you’d leave me alone at such a fancy function.

But it's worth it. 

So for a while all you are is away. 

Only over an ocean or two.

And flying back fast.

Then I can tell them what I can’t tell you.

While they give me the gift of presuming present tense.

And allow me to lie by omission.

And as I talk about you to them. 

I feel you fast approaching.

The pressure of you pressing down on our own safe soil.

As you coalesce out of our old conversations.

And you’re coming home.

Only this time I’m hoping you don’t fall so bad over the threshold.

But inevitably,

Eventually,

They’ll ask,

And

I’ll answer,

And it’s like I’m doing dying to you all over again.

When all I want to say is how you made me,

How I am a testament to you,

How thanks to you,

I’ll always have more people to talk to.

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Tomorrowmost

It sits in its rippling skin. Its bouquet of beaks sift between its armour plates in a jittering preen. Its mandibles tipped with pine needle teeth click and spark like flints. Its yellow blood floods to and fro from its feathery gills to chill its baking striations. Its leaves lining its shell turn orange then shed ahead of hibernation. Its paws plant themselves sprouting roots that will hold against the tides of the sugar swamp. Its motor oozes with mucus to seal its crenulations and lubricate its rails. Its glass scales close around the interlocking perpendicular ring eyes embedded in its motherboard.  Its rubbery gynophores zip up their humps packed heavy for their pilgrimage. Its fin fans flap wafting perfume pheromones out far and wide from its vents shafts. Its clay hinges creak caked in bioluminescent chlorophyll pumped by its tetrahedron of fusion powered hearts. Its moons lactate a misty plasma that makes its tendrils dance and glisten. Its hollow horns reverberate its clangus mating call punctuated by steam whistle. Its zimaralls phumph. As it thinks. The yellow orange thing looks beautiful over the blue green thing.