Hello, my name's Yen and I'm one of the only people in the world who didn't like this film.
WARNING: SPOILERS*
I'll keep this short and sweet. I didn't feel the narrative was laid out plainly enough. In all honesty, I didn't feel the narrative was laid out at all, other than "there's a mole at the top of the circus" (about six fucking times), and "oh, it's Colin Firth". In between those, is two hours of moody atmosphere shots with very little useful dialogue or anything actually happening.
• Interior, a darkened office, day. Smiley sits with one of the other central characters who somehow hasn't been introduced properly. Nothing is said for about 45 seconds until one of them quietly pipes up "...things are not in order" Cut to: • Exterior, a park, dusk. Smiley looks into the middle distance saying nothing for 60 seconds. Cut to: • Interior, Smiley's office, night. Although probably not the night after the dusk we just saw. You can't really tell, to be honest. Smiley looks at four chess pieces with faces sellotaped onto them. The camera closes on his concerned face. He says nothing. Cut to...
Fucking etcetera. For two hours. It does have some good sequences; the flashback scene at the beginning with Mark Strong as the agent in Bulgaria, and the tale told in flashbacks by Tom Hardy. But other than that, flashback sequences are used, unannounced, where the characters and decor look exactly the fucking same as in the 'present' day. Then you get to a point where Mark Strong's scenes weren't flashbacks, but when you realise this you think back over those scenes and realise they were so largely inconsequential that it doesn't really matter when they were set.
Here's the deal: I'm not a rocket scientist. I know this. But I also know I'm not completely thick, and I know enough about narrative structure to sit through most of this film not having a fucking clue what's going on at any given moment.
Yet, evidently I'm the only person who feels like this.
I was going to give it a second watch. Benefit of the doubt, y'know? Then after some thought, I figured fuck it. The way I see it, you've got three minutes to 'sell' a film to me with your trailer. If you can do that, I'm in. If I'm not convinced by the trailer, then why should I spend time and money watching something that doesn't seem to appeal to me? Oh, it could be a great film, but if the person who's cut the trailer's done a bad job, that's not my problem.
Then I took it a step further. The trailer for TTSSdid sell it to me. It's the film itself that didn't. And quite honestly, if you can't convince me in two hours that I should like your film, then it's certainly not going to get another screening with me in the room.
On the plus side: Everything else is pretty excellent. The sets, costumes, casting, acting, delivery, photography; all exquisite. It just feels to me like it was edited by someone who hadn't read the story. Way too many aspects seemed like they probably meant more in the book or TV series, and were only in this to make up the numbers.
And y'know, if you're adapting a massive book which was a 7-hour TV series down into 2 hours, and a lot of stuff doesn't fit? Then you should probably be asking yourself if you should even be doing it at all.
Best bit: Colin Firth gets shot in the face. That will never get old.
I want to mark it more highly just because of the way it looks, but I was too disappointed with it to do that.
* Although when I say "spoilers", I mean arguably more plot-revelation than the fucking film.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
"This week's task is to edit Hollywood classics down to the essentials, and relate the entire plot of a movie in just three frames. Easy."
Lord of the Rings
Zombieland
Kick-Ass
Star Wars Saga (from a Palpatine point of view)
Maybe more to come. Don't hold your breath, though, I think this horse is well and truly flogged for now.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
"This week's task is to edit Hollywood classics down to the essentials, and relate the entire plot of a movie in just three frames. Easy."
Jurassic Park
Back To The Future
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Temple of Doom
Raiders of the Lost Ark
The Last Crusade
The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
...yeah, you thought I'd be doing Star Wars, didn't ya?
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
15 movies. 14 days. Let's do this
The usual season-rules apply: • Because I've seen most of these before, they're not reviews, just thoughts-as-I-go, with a rating at the end. • They're listed in the order I watched them in, not release order. • Ratings are my own, and as such, not to be taken that seriously. What do I know? • Oh, and the Q&A DVDs apply, seeing as they're four hours long. 'kay?
• It's odd to see how restrained Smith was in 2002, compared to now after years of Smodcast. He's still more open than most directors, but there's a formality there that he doesn't have these days. • It's great how little time Smith has for smartarses. • This first Q&A feature doesn't really flow that well in the first 30 mins, as there's a lot of time spent listening to gushing fanboys with no social skills. If I wanted that, I'd stand in Forbidden Planet. I'd forgotten quite how irritating Fanboys are. Rein it in you dicks!
If you enjoy listening to Smith talk, you'll get a lot out of this, but it's not as smooth as his podcasts. Cop Out (2010) On: 11th September 2011
How bad can it be, right? When even the film's director plays it down…
• I've never seen New York look as much like Liberty City as in this movie, and I like it. • Poison are on the soundtrack. Score another point. • I'm liking Harold Faltermeyer's score, alot. • It's not 'outstanding' in any sense (and it's probably a little longer than it needs to be), but it's a perfectly serviceable buddy-cop-action-comedy. Willis has certainly made worse, and I've seen worse. Fuck it, I've seen worse movies this WEEK.
I quite enjoyed this. I'm not sure what people's problem is.
Best Line: "I could knit the fuck out of a big nice sweater."
• Fucking fanboys >:( • Smith's manner is a lot more relaxed than the first Evening With, although it's still essentially more of the same. • I do wish he wouldn't get attention-whores on stage to make dicks of themselves. Although they do make the regular fanboys look normal...
As before, if you like watching a fat guy talking about himself for four hours, you'll enjoy.
• Not sure why this has been classified as 'horror', it's more action/thriller. Rooted in horror, for sure, but it strays into social/political thriller territory. • Minimal titles at the start of the film, and straight in, I appreciate that. • Michael Parks is fucking awesome. Probably nuts, but awesome. • The first half hour is a slow burner considering the short runtime (88mins). • Beautiful scripting, and nicely acted given the absurdity of the characterisation and situations, I just wish there'd been a little more scope to the story. • BUT… It goes very odd at 70mins. The rest of the film's almost as if someone else took over the writing, wanted to wrap it up, and hadn't read the existing story that thoroughly…
The first hour and ten minutes are a beautiful break from the norm for Smith. The last 12 minutes are the equivalent of finishing your homework before the lesson by tacking on "and then I woke up and it had been a dream the end". An extra half hour and a decent resolution could have made this Smith's masterwork.
Best Line:"How much you think a cross like that costs?" "…you mean in dollars or common sense?"
^^ That'd be a 5 or a 6, if the end wasn't such a cop out ^^ Zack and Miri Make A Porno (2008) On: 12th September 2011
• ...Elizabeth Banks. I don't think I need to say any more about that, just bearing in mind I said it in the same tones I usually reserve for Claire Forlani. • This is Smith back to doing what he does best. Loud, brassy comedy. • Justin Long is one of the greatest things in this film. • The only downside to this is the godawful Star Wars puns. What can I tell ya, I'm precious about my SW. • Traci Lords used to follow me on Twitter, until she realised either a) I'm not a celeb, b) I swear too much, c) a&b. • The whole Dutch-Rudder scene with Jason Mewes is messed up. Seriously.
Best Line: "You believe that shit?" "…do you believe THIS shit?" ^^ That said, the first hour of the film spoils me for choice for Best Lines ^^
The final act slows the movie down a little, but I prefer it over Clerks II. Jersey Girl (2004) On: 13th September 2011
It has its moments, and it's certainly well acted, written and directed. But it's not for me. It looks like Smith was aiming for maturity, and in a sense he succeeds, but it's just too bland for my tastes. Even in 2004, there was already way too much of this stuff around. Throwing Smith at the issue didn't help anyone, least of all Smith. That kid's fucking annoying, as well.
Still, Liv Tyler eh? It's not all bad.
Best Line:"Aw Dad, Isn't that cute? It's 8 o'clock and you both get a bottle!"
Okay, let's go back to the start. Not too much I can say about this. Beautifully filmed, beautifully scripted, patchily acted and slightly claustrophobic.
It doesn't flow as well as you remember, and yet it's always an absolute joy to watch.
Best Line:"I don't see how you can romanticise your relationship with Caitlin. She broke your heart and inadvertently drove men to deviant lifestyles…"
• By 2008, Smodcast was in full swing, and this is a lot more relaxed than the previous two Q&A DVDs. Rather than being intercut between different nights, this is one continuous show, which helps the Smith's storytelling flow. • Smith takes 55 minutes to answer the first question, and the guy's standing in the aisle all the time, it's brilliant. • There's a lot more focus this time on Smith and his storytelling, and less on the crowd and quantity/variety of questions.
Best Line:Don't boo me, I didn't fuck a kid! …although neither did he, allegedly…"
• Claire Forlani. That is all. • Seeing Jason Lee and Ethan Suplee together in a proto-My Name Is Earl is awesome. I wish Smith would buy the rights to that show and make a movie to finish the story. • This is one of my favourite movies of all time; I am always in the mood for this.
Best Line: (1)"Ha-ha-haaa… you dumb bastard, that's not schooner, it's a sail-boat!" - Willem Best Line: (2)"What kind of man are you anyway? I'm talking comics and you bring up chicks and romance?" - Brodie
• As with 'Threevening', Smith's solo 'act' has evolved into essentially anecdotal standup (despite his claim in this that he's not a standup) • Again, this is Smith doing what he does best: talking about himself frankly and with humility. • It's essentially a one-man video'd SModCast. Which is fine by me.
• I seem to recall this movie looking more slick, but the DVD I've got is in 3:4 aspect-ratio, and has a horrible video and audio transfer. So maybe it is more slick? • This film has a lot of baggage; nowhere near as easygoing as Smith's other movies (and I include Clerks and Red State in that). • The first half an hour or so's good, but... y'know... • Just. Stop. WHINING!
Best Line:"Ah, that's a bunch of horseshit! Lando Calrissian's a black guy, and he's a positive role-model!"
• I don't care what anyone says, this is great. Ahead of its time, maybe, but I appreciated it back in the day as well. So, make of that what you will. • Two guys in increasingly surreal situations. It's a little bit like a proto-Mighty Boosh. • When I'm in the mood for this, it's awesome. Tonight? I am, and it is.
• Yay! Back to silly comedy with an overriding (silly) plot! • Alan Rickman's Metatron is fucking awesome in this film, and the film's high-concept works all the better for his heavy handed exposition. • Salma Hayek's Serendipity is also a great character, if let down a little by Salma's overacting. • The film's also a lot stronger for having Jay & Bob as an integral part, rather than just tacked on at the end like in Chasing Amy. • The only thing holding it back in the View Askew canon is that it's a little long. Not 'way' long, and I'm not sure where it could be tightened, but it still feels longer than it should.
Best Line:"Sex is a joke in heaven?" "…the way I understand it, it's mostly a joke down here, too".
A worthy successor to Dogma and Mallrats, slicker than both and almost a mainstream comedy. Thankfully, harsh language and references to earlier SMovies keep it squarely in the ViewAskewniverse.
• Is this film really ten years old already? :/ • Speaking of which, jeez, Jon Stewart looks young. • Three fourth-wall moments in one movie, I like that very much. • It feels longer than it is (in a good way), because of the number of actors in it. • You can really feel (and it's obvious enough) that this was intended to be the final Jersey Chronicles film.
It's low-brow, lowest-common-demoninator stuff, but I love it.
Best Line:"…and for the record? He loves the cock."
• The first time I saw this, I realised how much Randall had influenced my outlook on life. A dry, weary sarcasm just trying to have a good time. • 45 minutes in, with the go-karting scene, the film switches gear and the laughs kind of… ease up a little. Even the funny segments seem a lot heavier. • That simpering look that Dante gives Becky during the dance sequence pretty much sums up that change of direction. • Speaking of which… a dance sequence? Really? • I could do without the moping and tears in the second half, but I'll concede they are necessary to make the final scene work.
Not quite as much fun as it should be, if only because of the whiny-romance aspect. Other than that? When it's good, it's great.
Best Line:"…oh what the fuck happened to this world? There's only one fucking Trilogy, you morons!"
So yeah! A fun two weeks, although Jersey Girl and Chasing Amy made it feel longer. But what have we learned? Eh? Where's the GRAPH?
Okay you lot, calm down, here it is...
^^ Click for bigger. Opens in a new window ^^
In summary: The sillier the movie, the better. Smith's work is no place for issues although they often creep in anyway. That said, I still fucking adore the man and his work, and I'll happily watch anything he puts out. Well, except for Jersey Girl II. Or Chasing Amy II.
Oh, and if you're a fan of Kevin Smith, you should be listening to his work on the SModCast network. If you're not, fix that, yeah?
SNOOGANS.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
With an average trailer and an awful title, this looked to be a time-filler movie. Something to watch on a day off, or a Sunday afternoon. But as with another terribly-monikered Jason Bateman vehicle this year, Horrible Bosses, I was pleasantly surprised as I watched it.
Once again, the body-swap plot is almost clockwork, and the mechanics of the grass is always greener lesson are layered on pretty thickly, but this really benefits from having four likeable leads in place to keep it moving along. I love Jason Bateman anyway, and Leslie Mann and Olivia Wilde are dependably great (given the limitations of their characters), but the real surprise was seeing Ryan Reynolds in a role where he's not completely average. It looks like everyone had fun making this, and characters that would typically be brash and unlikeable (Reynolds' Mitch/Dave) still carry enough warmth to make you want a happy ending, not just the 'back to their own bodies' one you know you'll get anyway.
What also makes this stand out from other body-swap comedies is the layer of Hangover humour dusted across the top. Constantly foul-mouthed, but not desperately so; frequently gross-out, but not overdone. It's a nice change for this particular movie, but I can see it creeping in and being standard from hereon-in.
And that's about it, really. A sturdy-yet-safe comedy, plenty of laugh-out-loud moments and a surprising amount of charm. More of a DVD/Sky movie than a must-see at the cinema, but if you're going anyway this week, you could do a lot worse than this.
It gets a 6 purely for being better than the other movies I've seen at the flicks this month. So far, anyway.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
It was sometime between nine and ten o'clock in the evening when my ladyfriend and I left The Durley Inn, a reasonably amiable establishment in which we had just dined (and, I might add, imbibed some small amount of wine and ale, respectively; although our measure had been slight enough that our faculties were not impaired for our subsequent stroll).
It was fully dark as we walked along the promenade in the direction of Bournemouth town, the lamplights giving adequate coverage to the sand-strewn path, and a waning moon reflecting on a calm sea above the still-illuminated lights of the pier. Being mid September, there was a slight chill in the air; although it was certainly milder than the previous nights had been, my good lady was wearing a coat, and I myself have been known to brave far worse elements when leaving a public house.
This path beneath the cliffs could not be described as deserted (not least because of our own presence, of course), but other than a couple of brave souls cycling at this hour, it was sparsely populated, lending a comforting solitude to this area of the Dorset coast which had been positively bustling only hours earlier.
It was between two beach-huts that we first saw who I can only describe as 'our ginger friend'. Naturally, given the hour, the patrons who had rented these small chalets were long since returned to their guesthouses, and although his appearance was sudden and he said nothing aloud, still there was no sense of threat or malice about him.
We greeted him, enquired as to his wellbeing and his enjoyment of the evening thus far. Although maintaining his not-unpleasant air, still he chose not to answer vocally, and instead walked closer as if to inspect us, before lazily returning to the spot in which we'd first seen him.
Unperturbed, my lady and I recommenced our journey, whereby in another two hundred yards or so we would turn onto an adjoining path in the form of a zig-zag, which would bring us to the top of the cliffs above. As we walked, however, we were aware that our new acquaintance followed. Although continuing his silence, and being light-of-foot, still he wore something about his person, some metallic trinket or accessory which surely gave his presence away. Not shy of turning to glance behind us and affirm our knowledge of his presence, we nonetheless made our way to the foot of the inclined path, which in this case was completely devoid of people.
This game continued as we proceeded, on a wire-fenced walkway that doubles back upon itself six or seven times in its gradual ascent. As we reached the midway point of each section, the result was the same; a glance behind us revealed the chap's small eyes peering around the previous corner at us. By the time we turned to face the opposite direction, the lamps clearly illuminated him and his light-auburn hair as he followed us up the cliffside trail, almost brazen now in his poorly-perceived stealth.
"Perhaps he is a ghost", I mused quietly, "and we, to him, are as spirits as he silently wanders the paths between worlds, confused as he is". "Perhaps", my companion responded.
And so, on the final link before we reached the open-ground above us, our stalker (for by now, this is surely what he was) made the bold move of wordlessly overtaking us, albeit on the other side of the fence, on the steeply-sloping ground between the allocated stretches of the path. How he kept his footing, even in the amber glow of the lamplights, is beyond me. As he reached the ground parallel with the end of the walkway, all he needed to do was vault the fence to be in front of us. And although no such confrontation had seemed likely before now, why else would he have played this gambit at this late stage?
He crouched behind the fence as we drew closer; not trying to hide (that game was long since over), but tensing himself for the leap that would place him directly in our path. Approaching, we both spoke to him once more, maintaining a pleasant tone, and politely (if not playfully), informing his that his presence was known to us, and had been for the duration of our climb. Then, without so much as a sound of exertion, his small wiry frame leapt and actually managed to maintain a position 'on' the fence. From there he didn't move, but his gaze met us directly, as before.
And yet, as before, there seemed no sinister purpose about him; all the more amazing since he had been actively pursuing us for no short while, now. "What is your name?" my ladyfriend enquired, "and where are you supposed to be?"
Naturally, he said nothing, and simply gazed back, bright eyed. Being more accustomed to this sort of thing than I, my good lady reached over (the fellow didn't flinch), and read the tag hanging from his collar. Although it didn't state his name, he apparently belonged to one of the local guesthouses, who had identified him in this way, presumably due to his frequenting of the local area. Silent, as was now his trademark, our ginger feline friend went about his way, perhaps to find some manner of rodent to pursue as the night's sport, or perhaps just to continue enjoying the evening air, and make new friends...
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
I thought I was going to be a bastard this morning. That bastard I mentioned there, who swans into the Spar at 07:55, paying for a token low-end purchase with a note, purely to get change to use elsewhere. Instead, I realised that I'm actually part of the aristocracy.
I needed change, and only had a £10 note. It's not absolute bastard level behaviour, but having worked in retail I know how annoying it is (yes, I am empathetic, despite what you may have thought after reading last week's post. Or this week's post).
So, to avoid some sort of remake of last week's performance, (which I was sure would lead to me unleashing my full pedantic fury, should it happen again) I'd checked that my £10 was legal, UK tender. All good. This currency in my hand was worth exactly one hundred times that coin, which had caused umbrage seven days ago, and I had every legal and moral right to spend it as I saw fit.
I entered the vendor's establishment at my local railway station, prepared to steadfastly defend my honour and my purchase of a pint of milk. And a Mars Bar and a Bounty. What?
As per last week, I shall be played by Me, and the Spar Lady shall be portrayed by SL. ALTHOUGH I should point out now that the Spar Lady isn't the one who served me last week.
Me: Just those three, please.
SL: That's two pounds and three, please.*1
I hand over the money. If anything's going to happen, it's going to be now.
SL: Thank you. Would you like a bag?
Me: No, I'm fine thanks.
SL: Okay, that's seven ninety seven change.
Me: Brilliant, thank you.
SL: Is there anything else I can do for you today?
Me: ...no, that's great thanks. Bye.
SL: Bye.
Now that may seem like exactly the kind of verbal exchange you want in that situation, and on the surface I'd be inclined to agree. But at no point did the sales assistant act in a cheerful, breezy manner to accompany this banter. In fact, she played a deadpan performance, throughout. If I was a cynical person (...yeah), I'd call it borderline sarcastic.
Fortunately, as with last week, my powers of reasoning and rapier wit are just beginning to fire up at that time of the morning. Because of this, I didn't rise to the bait laid down by the shop assistant. Otherwise, the situation could have been a bit different...
Cue flashback wobbly transitional effect and harp music.
SL: Thank you. Would you like a bag?
Me: No, I'm fine thanks.
SL: Okay, that's seven ninety seven change.
Me: Brilliant, thank you.
SL: Is there anything else I can do for you today?
Me: ...well, my carriage is outside, perhaps you could see my horse into your stables for the night? My driver will need accomodation, too.
SL: Pardon?
Me: Well, I appear to be some Lord of the Manor, flashing around the kind of currency that, far from frustrating you at the reduction of the amount of change you carry, has actually stunned you into subserviance! You view this ten pound note, bearing the stiking image of our monarch, and immediately realise your station in life; to wit, that it is several steps below my own. Well done.
SL: Er, I was only being polite.
Me: Well you say that, but you haven't furnished the same level of courtesy on anyone else in the queue. If anything, your manner with them has been somewhat surly. And although the tone in your voice and your general expression hasn't changed since I arrived at the head of the queue, your words themselves are suddenly quite, quite different.
SL: Look, you're holding the line up...
Me: No-one else in this establishment has served me in this most courteous fashion, and I can't help but wonder what has incurred the change in direction with the Spar corporation's Customer Service Procedure. Has this come down from your superiors, I wonder? Or is it just the first time you've seen a banknote of this large a denomination?
SL: Why are you being like this?
Me: Why are YOU being like this? If you're going to be polite, then do it properly by all means, but you have to do the actions as well as the words. Your demeanour this morning smacks of insincerity, madam. While I myself may not be chirpy and delightful, you can be sure that what you are seeing is an accurate representation of my state of mind, and that I can still execute politeness without being sanctimonious.
SL: Okay look, I was being a bit sarcastic because you were paying with a note.
Me: HA! I fucking KNEW it.
SL: It's just something we do in here to pass the time, although I suspect most checkout workers do this.
Me: But surely you must spend most of every morning doing it? At this time of the day, that's what most of your custom is: people wanting change.
SL: ...well, yes...
Me: And yet, I'm not buying a 25p paper, or a 60p pack of chewing gum. I'm spending over two pounds, and you have the temerity, the sheer fucking brass neck, to act as if I'm an inconvenience? The very NATURE of you store is convenience. THAT IS WHY YOU ARE EMPLOYED HERE.
SL: ...we don't have a lot of change...
Me: I beg your fucking pardon? I thought this was a shop. You don't hear a decorator complaining that he doesn't have a lot of paint, do you? I fucking tried to play your game last week by purchasing goods with change, and look where that got me: a disinterested shop assistant and an imaginary fucking argument on the legality of Crown Dependency currency. So today I thought, 'fuck it, I'll be like everyone else, at least then I won't draw irregular flak', but no. You really make this song and fucking dance over everyone who pays with a note, do you? You must be knackered at the end of your shift.
SL: ...we don't have a lot of change...
Me: Fuck your fucking change. This isn't about the change, it's about your bizarre fucking attitude. If you went the extra mile and put a smile on your face while you were trotting out your pleasantries, you might actually convince your half-awake customers that you give a shit. Some would undoubtedly be cheered up by your sunny disposition, and even make a mental note as to the positive transaction experience they'd received in-store. The other retail outlets in the station all pretend to be fucking happy, why can't you?
SL: Why don't you go there to get change then?
Me: Because they're coffee/newspaper vendors, I came here to get fucking milk, didn't I?
SL: You're getting quite worked up now, aren't you?
Me: Yes. Yes, I fucking am. I told you this would happen if I got a second crack at the scenario with the benefit of afterthought. This is precisely why time-travel is a bad idea.
SL: ...do you have a time machine?
Me: No. If I had a time machine, do you think I'd be in a shop buying milk at 07:55?
SL: I don't want to get into a discussion about time travel. It'd be off-topic for one thing.
Me: I know what you're saying, but as usual, readers have probably skipped over this bit.
SL: To see the resolution of the conversation?
Me: Exactly. Although as this is going to be the resolution, this is the bit they'll be reading, and it won't make any sense following the earlier diatribes.
SL: They'll have to scroll back up and read the whole thing then, won't they?
Me: Pretty much.
SL: So have you calmed down, now?
Me: Has your attitude towards the people who effectively pay your wages changed?
SL: ...not really.
Me: Then no. By feigning politeness, you're being impolite. But you knew that. And now I'm late for work.
So why the different attitude when I'm being served?
One thing that could have cause this level of awareness, would be if someone at Spar Head Office had stumbled across my previous blog entry, perhaps by idly typing 'Spar Milk 10p Isle of Man'*2 into Google one lunchtime, perhaps as part of a bet that no results would be forthcoming. After reading the entry, maybe it was circulated to all registered franchisees as a warning? Maybe the staff of my nearest outlet read this in cold horror, and as the penny dropped, replayed their security footage with a tearful checkout assistant shaking in the corner, re-living the scarring moment again...
Although the number of hits my blog's had would suggest otherwise. Which means they probably printed it off and faxed it round.
This has got way more rambly than I originally envisioned it.
*1 Yeah, over two quid for two chocolate bars and a pint of milk. And yet this isn't even the issue. I know, I know. *2 This works, I've tried it.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
It's Rom-Com by numbers, no matter how self-referential and meta it tries to be at times. In fact, the only thing that genuinely surprised me is the depth of the product placement deal that Sony have managed to secure in here.
The cast are likeable, the soundtrack's dependable, and you can see the plot coming before you sit down to watch it. In fact, if you've seen the trailer, you've pretty much seen the film.
That said, I enjoyed it. It is what it is, and it neither makes nor requires any apologies for itself. Woody Harrelson's pretty much the best thing in it, and he's chronically underused, but again, you get that impression from the trailer.
The film's a lot of fun, satisfying in the short term, but despite what it says in the moment lacks any real emotional depth. Which, given the central theme, is either a little ironic or completely fitting… probably both.
Watch with beer for best effect.
Oh, and it's good to hear Semisonic again.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
