Sunday, 25 February 2007

The Good Shepherd....the good excuse for a nap.

My god if this film had gone on any longer I would have gone to the Cineworld reception and asked for a pillow due to the fact that my arse felt like it had been anaesthetised. What a bore of epic proportions. Basically, in this De Niro film, Matt Damon plays a spy come CIA person who err, bollocks to it - if you want to know what happens, click here. It goes on for over two and a half hours and quite frankly, the film takes on too many uninteresting strands of a story, tries unsuccessfully to weave them all together and offers too many characters who all look too similar. Yowch. I tried to keep up, I really did, so did my boyfriend and his friend. Our comments on leaving our seats at the long awaited credits went something like this:

Boyfriend: Hmmm. What was that all about then?
Friend: [Silence]
Me: I don't get it. What was happening?

Another problem on a more aesthetic level was that despite the fact the story spans near on 30 years, Matt Damon and Angelina Jolie seem too young for their roles and appear ageless; granted they aren't as fresh faced by the end but it's hard to believe that their son is actually their son...he looks more their peer. Matt Damon just isn't interesting enough to play this role, but even with a more charismatic actor I'm not sure it would have been much better. And you know what, I can't even remember his characters name.

I've just checked rottentomatoes.com for a few more reviews and it seems they are all of a similar consensus. In the interests of your backside, this is one best avoided.

On a separate note, I would like to express how happy I am that popcorn and food at cinemas is priced so extortionately. Although this does not suit my un-wavering hunger, I can only imagine what my experience of this film would have been had everyone in the cinema been able to afford the delights of cinema cuisine. Well done that man who decided that popcorn (chomp, chomp, yap, yap), crisps (rustle rustle, crunch crunch) and nachos (smell, crunch, slurp) were appropriate for an audience of people whose chosen night out relied on being able to hear what was on screen rather than what was in their neighbours mouth. Equal congratulations to the person who, while charging £3.90 for a kids size popcorn, is inadvertently stopping this loud eating problem becoming more of an issue for me. Phew.

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