The Boat That Rocked is rock and roll uncut, undone and visceral. It grabs you by the nuts and stares you in the face. And it wins.
Director Richard Curtis, who brought us the delightfully diabetic Love Actually, retains the famously appreciated sardonic, wry humour. Very British. And now, very Bill Nighy.
A period comedy of sorts, The Boat That Rocked, speaks of pirate radio jockeys and their music. Curtis has brought us some of our more memorable romantic comedies and is perhaps hard pressed to avoid a soppy dilution. It does breakdown a little. All bass every now and then. But he succeeds with commentary, classical even. He manages to pull off a rock and roll party reminiscent of Almost Famous (minus the divine Penny Lane). There is a depth to his characters despite Mr. Ilfans.
Phillip Seymour Hoffman is inspiring, Rhys Ilfans is an absolute nut and Bill Nighy is downright hysterical. None of it matters though. Because this movie speaks of the best days of our lives, that we never lived.
Watch it.
Oh. Also, the music is fucken great.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Fried Chicken and a Cup of Normalcy.
Predispositions, I believe, are meant to be shot down every now and then. First, because it gives potty thinkers like myself a kick and secondly, because it pleasantly reminds us that things could be different.
What if we were capable of handling intimate and direct situations with a third party perspective? As though seemingly detached. As though the stark emotional disillusionment were non-existent and involvement was merely to seek solution.
It would make us cold perhaps but this is a thought I have pondered, and sometimes discussed with a fair bit of Smirnoff within. It seems fair to apply such a theory at times when situations don't go to the head at an instant. A deep breath. Another. Moment to swing has gone by. Now you'd just be a mercenary if you hit him.
Third party perspective brings me back to where I began. If societal inference were just momentarily ignored, even forgiven, maybe we would appreciate the psychedelic. White suits and gold chains and their lack of predetermined aesthetic. Bright lights, loud music and crazy moves. Rap music, except 50cent.
What is normal? Just a thought.
What if we were capable of handling intimate and direct situations with a third party perspective? As though seemingly detached. As though the stark emotional disillusionment were non-existent and involvement was merely to seek solution.
It would make us cold perhaps but this is a thought I have pondered, and sometimes discussed with a fair bit of Smirnoff within. It seems fair to apply such a theory at times when situations don't go to the head at an instant. A deep breath. Another. Moment to swing has gone by. Now you'd just be a mercenary if you hit him.
Third party perspective brings me back to where I began. If societal inference were just momentarily ignored, even forgiven, maybe we would appreciate the psychedelic. White suits and gold chains and their lack of predetermined aesthetic. Bright lights, loud music and crazy moves. Rap music, except 50cent.
What is normal? Just a thought.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)