Friday, 30 October 2009
FILM 8: LOVE ACTUALLY - Er, actually.....
And so we press on into the early hours of the morning. The good news is that Lambrini and Red Bull do mix, delightfully. I'm getting my third wind, after the wobbly moments of the post-Bullock coffee overdose sickness, and the strange lacklustre fug that descended after the horrors of That Film.
So, Hugh Grant told President Billy Bob Thornton he was a cock in front of the world's press did he? Well, SOMEONE'S going to get some trade tariffs levied against their country, that's for sure.
It's a strange, bitty film really. Since every single other film I've seen tonight has been basically about two people falling in love (Apart from Sex And The City, which was about..... wow, I don't think I can actually remember any more..), it's an interesting choice to scattergun a load of other mooning lovebirds into my heart. It would appear that every single person in this film, and therefore in Britain, has a well varnished hardwood floor. Well, Richard Curtis, my floor is made of laminate. That's compressed paper to you. Is there any place for me in your rather narrow view of the world?
I must say though, I did expect to be tearing my eyeballs out by now, but at this time of the morning, class war seems like an awful lot of effort. Right now, I wouldn't mind having a bit of a lie down on Emma Thompson's chaise-longue and listening to pan-pipe moods while playing a bit of gin rummy. With my Saddam cards.
The truth is, I'm still not entirely sure what this film is all about, other than a lot of people being bumbling and awkward around each other and saying 'erm' a lot, or 'fuck' if they're comedy relief. Liam Neeson re-enacting DiCaprio and Winslet's scene in Titanic with an 8 year old child must have been a hard sell at the script meeting though.
Is the whole film basically Curtis telling us that middle class, middle aged, ENGLISH people don't really like talking about sex? Now the whole world knows Richard, thanks for that. I bet they're envious of our beautifully unyielding and rustic floors though.
What the hell am I talking about.
Heh, and oh yes, thank you to everybody who still up and tweeting and that, it's much appreciated. It means I don't have to make up imaginary friends to talk to when the Lambrini sickness kicks in. Because that will happen.