So I get off my arse and go see Inside Man ~ I need the Clive Owen fix. I'm in Causeway Bay, but can I find the entrance to't cinema? Can I fuck. They're having renovations done, so the door's moved. I walk inside Times Square and miss the wee hidden entrance twice.
I find the box office, back-track to 't entrance to House 4, and I'm set. When I find my seat and settle myself, I'm thinking perhaps I couldn't be arsed. But I'm always like this, right? Every time I go: "I really want to see that film 'fore it ends" but when I get near the theatre I'm thinking about millions n hundreds o things I could be doing instead. But anyway, I'd bought the ticket already, so I was content to get my coat (in anticipation of the fucking harsh air-con), settle down and let it start.
Cue the Nuisance Round. This involves me being fucked off by some other punter, putting me int bad mood 'fore the film even starts. This time it's two pairs of fuckers ~ of an unlikely source. We've got two blond American-spewing international school kids being adolescent wankers in that "look at me, ain't I cool cos I'm not a dirty local" fucking annoying way ~ no surprise there then. I wanted to get up and boot em till they were either lying face-down in their own blood or running fer't hills. I had to be content wi watching some other foreigner tell em to pack it in. It worked. There was some to-do about em trying to get int someone else's seats, but it came to nowt. Problem solved, I thought.
No. A gentleman loud of voice and oblivious of mentality questioned some other bloke's seat number. The show was packed, nearly everyone has turned up, and this bloke were just trying to make sure he were int right seat ~ fair enough. Except for what happened next.
"Sorry boss, I think you'll find that's my seat."
"Oh aye, sorry pal, so et es," came the response. Some shifting of seats, then:
"You're not American then?"
"Noe! British," comes the forced bemused reply, but I've already clocked the accent and am hoping what I think's going to happen next doesn't happen next. It does:
"Oh, English, right?" Cue long pause.
"Not at all. Yirself?"
"Canadian," he says. Now, me ant family are kindly disposed to Canadians, my sister being one an all. "So you English are stuck with Tony Blair, eh?" he continues. Bad move for him, for me, and for perr Jock Tamson's man.
"Well –"
"Oh, I know, don't worry. We've had it up to here with George W. Bush and Tony Blair," he begins. He starts to give us a narration of the whole Iraqi war bollocks with statistics an all, and rants on about it being all people ever talk about. He rants on, and on… one monotonous, droning buzzing sound…
Int words of another annoying fucking "president" of the USA, "let me make one thing perfectly clear": I am sick of listening to people carping on about fucking George W. Bush! Everywhere you go, if there are foreigners there, it's fucking George W. Bush this and George W. Bush that ~ stop it right now ya cunt, 'fore I get up and give you a tanning wi both feet!
All the time the poor Scot is quiet, ostensibly listening. I'm plugging my ears, biting my phone lanyard, anything to stop the constant buzzing sound of torture from boiling my brain and having it slip-slide out me ears. Then it comes ~ ALL DEITIES, BE THEY MAJOR OR MINOR, LOVE THE SCOTS:
"He, sorry pal, but I dinnae gie a fuck, likesay."
Fantastic. Now that's a biscuit fer dippin'!
So the film ~ bit slow in places, and Clive dunt get his kit off so no Brownie points to be had there. But it turns out I really quite liked his character, and how it all ended up an all. Every player did well, the story kind o held together but then again, I was only interested in seeing one outcome ~ and I got it. Fab! It also had a couple o good one-liners and there was of course the "let me see your shoe" from Buff Police Sidekick to Denzel. Like Ocean's 11, even the seemingly superfluous bits weren't ~ I was confused as to why they bothered to even include Jodie Foster, and then tried to find a way to cut her out. Just wouldn't work ~ she's needed in the same way as Danny Ocean's apparent surprised and ignorance of his wife's presence. It all needs to be. I'm not saying it's a masterpiece, far from it, but overall it had me smiling. Not a bad way to spend $50.
In more fun news, my wee sister sent me THIS an it's fab. I'm an 18 certificate, apparently. No surprise there then eh.
Peach and lube.
Tags:
Clive Owen ~ Inside Man ~ George Bush ~ Scottish ~ Tony Blair ~ Denzel Washington ~ Ocean's 11 ~ Jodie Foster ~ Xena
2 comments:
So George n Tony are off the menu then? Thank God for that.
Original Oceans 11 is better but this was a decent go at it.
Original ocean's 11 was better?? I'm shocked... I bothered to watch it first, thinking that all re-makes are crap compared to 't original, but bloody ell, was I wrong...
I thought the first one was just a haphazard gathering of friends who wanted to kind of make a film or something, as long as it didn't interfere wi their nights out... Bizarre mess, my best summation, I think.
In contrast, I loved the new Ocean's 11, as it taught me that not all American movies are made for dumbasses.
:)
p.s. I love the Rat Pack years though.
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