Why the Flicks No Longer Give Me My Kicks; a Wickedly Funny Take on Modern Ireland
Byline: Anne Gildea
There are so many films hitting our screens these days, there's no essential must-see anymore. And don't you go saying to me, 'Avatar, the highest grossing movie ever!' I dissent. For me, Avatar is not so much a movie, as James Cameron's ego masquerading as nine-foot tall blue people gadding about in a kindergarten-level show-and-tell. 'Hey, what about the special effects?' you ask. For God's sake, you can create your own special effects by closing your eyes, squashing your eyeballs with your fingers and opening them again. 'But what innovation! You wear silly glasses and it looks like the special cartoons are coming out at you. Don't they look real?' If he had edited the highlights, I might have enjoyed that flick, five minutes of it. As it was, I wished God would appear and say: 'Hey, humans, blue yokes, you're both bugging me. One word: apocalypse.' Cue destruction in 3D. The end.
Here's some other films I've seen this year: A Serious Man and A Single Man. The latter: 99 minutes of well-pressed 1960s' shirts in achingly just-so interiors. Supposedly a meditation on grief, for me, more of a rumination on what is it about Colin Firth that makes me want to kick him and holler, 'Please, go away, forever.' NEXT. The former, based on the biblical Book of Job, explores the notion that life has the capacity to be as disappointing as it is unpredictable. Fab. But can I remember the name of the lead? No. NEXT. I Am Love with Tilda Swindon. Tilda looks posh; Tilda looks ethereal; Tilda has extramarital how's-your-father with young totty while there's a montage of insects inserting their flocculent proboscises in the flora. Kind of... Wow. Kind of... What the hell was that? NEXT. The Prophet. Gangsters, racial tensions, underworld power-play dans la prison francaise. Superb. Sexy lead. Can I remember his name? Non.
This brief selection is somewhat dwarfed by the category of 'All The Major Motion Pictures I Haven't Seen This Year'. Some of which: Leonardo DiCaprio on a foggy island full of weirdos and Ben Kingsley. NEXT. The Road (The Film) based on The Road (The Book): the futuristic ups and downs of a father and son being chased by post-apocalyptic cannibals. NEXT. The Oscar-winning US explosive ordinance unit that get tetchy with each other. NEXT. The one set in Lourdes that's lovely, thumbs up from critics everywhere. NEXT. That Irish fillum about a young Dub fella who owes a gangster dosh, hasn't got it, ergo aggro; a scenario so cliched in Irish film that anyone who sees life through the prism of the pictures might be forgiven for thinking it's a right of passage for every Irish bucko to end up owing wads to the type of hard-chaw who'd nail your hand to a pool table as soon as he'd look at you. …