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I saw The Last Legion this afternoon. Someone on the flist-![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
niamh_sage, maybe-recced it, and I heartily second the recommendation. I can't vouch for its historical accuracy, but it was engaging and fun because it knew irs limits and stayed within them. It didn't paper its plot with political allegory or a tired morality play. It was hack and slash with a dash of political intrigue and a nod to Arthurian legend, and that was that. Plus, Colin Firth got to play rugged and manly for once instead of dapper and dully Byronian. Rawr. And the uniforms of the Roman legion pressed all my kink buttons. Red capes. Gold helmets. Sharp swords. ~thud~ If you're in the mood for braincandy with a steaming side of rumpled manflesh, catch a matinee.
I also watched Hot Fuzz this week. I didn't find the humor as sharp as that in Shaun of the Dead, and the first half-hour was a hard slog, but the last forty minutes are worth the entire DVD. The shootout in the quaint village was a thing of beauty and joy forever. The spinster shooting with both hands as she pedaled her bike over the cobblestones had me crying with laughter, and the pistol-packing vicar reminded me of the vigilante, zombie-killing vicar in Dead Alive, the most nauseatingly hilarious zombie flick ever("I kick ass for the Lord."). If you're into horror parody, look into Dead, but only if you've a strong stomach and a non-existent gag reflex, and for God's sake, don't eat before you watch. The porridge scene made me vomit. Profusely.
Fracture was also on my watch list.
It was dreadful. So dreadful that I'm taking the DVD to a resale shop ASAP. It was a plotless, lifeless mess designed to get to the Big Reveal at the end. Anthony Hopkins' villain was a faded carbon copy of Hannibal Lecter, complete with patronizing tone and irritating catchphrases, and Ryan Gosling was an insipid, unlikeable protagonist ripped from the self-congratulatory pages of a John Grisham novel. Only there was no suspense or unwitting twinge of sympathy for his idiocy, and there was certainly no charisma. The only bright spot was Fiona Shaw in a role other than nasty, priggish Aunt Petunia, and her appearance was all too brief.
The more movies I see, the more convinced I become that the praises and accolades heaped upon older, "powerhouse" actors are largely undeserved. Hopkins was working for the paycheck, and it was too damn bad he didn't feel the need to earn it. If only Hollywood could be reported to the California Better Business Bureau for fraud and extortion. I'm paying more and more for less and less, and it's not fair. The only profession that delivers less consistently on its promises than Hollywood and its kingdom of cheap, faux fairy tales is meteorology.
I'd like to thankfaylinn_drake for indulging me last night, and for the scrumptious promo picture of Det. Flack that she shared. If I can find it and upload it to Photobucket, I might post it here, because he was absolutely gorgeous.
( Flack S4 Promo Hotness-The Eyes, The Eyes )
niamh_sage, maybe-recced it, and I heartily second the recommendation. I can't vouch for its historical accuracy, but it was engaging and fun because it knew irs limits and stayed within them. It didn't paper its plot with political allegory or a tired morality play. It was hack and slash with a dash of political intrigue and a nod to Arthurian legend, and that was that. Plus, Colin Firth got to play rugged and manly for once instead of dapper and dully Byronian. Rawr. And the uniforms of the Roman legion pressed all my kink buttons. Red capes. Gold helmets. Sharp swords. ~thud~ If you're in the mood for braincandy with a steaming side of rumpled manflesh, catch a matinee.I also watched Hot Fuzz this week. I didn't find the humor as sharp as that in Shaun of the Dead, and the first half-hour was a hard slog, but the last forty minutes are worth the entire DVD. The shootout in the quaint village was a thing of beauty and joy forever. The spinster shooting with both hands as she pedaled her bike over the cobblestones had me crying with laughter, and the pistol-packing vicar reminded me of the vigilante, zombie-killing vicar in Dead Alive, the most nauseatingly hilarious zombie flick ever("I kick ass for the Lord."). If you're into horror parody, look into Dead, but only if you've a strong stomach and a non-existent gag reflex, and for God's sake, don't eat before you watch. The porridge scene made me vomit. Profusely.
Fracture was also on my watch list.
It was dreadful. So dreadful that I'm taking the DVD to a resale shop ASAP. It was a plotless, lifeless mess designed to get to the Big Reveal at the end. Anthony Hopkins' villain was a faded carbon copy of Hannibal Lecter, complete with patronizing tone and irritating catchphrases, and Ryan Gosling was an insipid, unlikeable protagonist ripped from the self-congratulatory pages of a John Grisham novel. Only there was no suspense or unwitting twinge of sympathy for his idiocy, and there was certainly no charisma. The only bright spot was Fiona Shaw in a role other than nasty, priggish Aunt Petunia, and her appearance was all too brief.
The more movies I see, the more convinced I become that the praises and accolades heaped upon older, "powerhouse" actors are largely undeserved. Hopkins was working for the paycheck, and it was too damn bad he didn't feel the need to earn it. If only Hollywood could be reported to the California Better Business Bureau for fraud and extortion. I'm paying more and more for less and less, and it's not fair. The only profession that delivers less consistently on its promises than Hollywood and its kingdom of cheap, faux fairy tales is meteorology.
I'd like to thank
faylinn_drake for indulging me last night, and for the scrumptious promo picture of Det. Flack that she shared. If I can find it and upload it to Photobucket, I might post it here, because he was absolutely gorgeous. ( Flack S4 Promo Hotness-The Eyes, The Eyes )