Submitted by Him.
Slated as the must-see movie of the 2006 Christmas Season, the marketing behind this film left me less than anxious to join the streams of victims herded in the direction of the nearest cinemaplex. Tonight I had the dubious honour of being invited to go and watch it post-holiday-season, and still found it in me to pass up the opportunity.
I must admit to cringing at the thought of Ben Stiller running around a museum full of special effects, and the fault isn't entirely his. Rather, I'd lay the blame squarely at the feet of the new breed of Monty-Python quoters: fans of Zoolander. You cannot escape the hordes of twenty-something women who find endless glee in that movie, and quotes thereof, much like the plague of geeks in the seventies and eighties who could, and would, quote ad-infinitum and verbatim every last line from every last Monty Python sketch, and all of the movies too. In fact, I don't doubt that they continue to harass their poor families and associates with tired old quotes ("I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!") and inane references to an innocent absurdist take on life that should have long since died a quiet and dignified death. If any movie deserves such devoted and perennial affection, it should be Top Gun.
So, Ben Stiller, I apologise that my opinion of your talents has been marred by my opinion of your fans, but that's life in the modern world. I'd rather watch Top Gun and admire the fact that Tom Cruise successfully popularised one of the dumbest haircuts in the history of the world: the flat-top (second only to the mullet) and appreciate the cinematic masterstroke of silhouetted tonsil hockey to the sexy sounds of Berlin's "Take My Breath Away." Not to mention the homo-erotic scenes of half-naked pilots diving around in the dirt under the pretense of playing volleyball. It was a world in which there were no points for second best, and I will continue to follow that philosophy tonight.
Saturday, 13 January 2007
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