Today the world woke up to the fact that however good Polish workers are, you wouldn’t want to employ one to fix your roof. This afternoon, England managed yet another lacklustre performance and gained a draw against Poland. However, the real highlight of the football coverage came yesterday, watching ITV’s commentary team, lead by Adrian Chiles, desperately trying to fill two and a half hours, sitting in a studio watching it raining outside. The highlight was Chiles’s genuine query to the rest of the team, “What’s the difference between heavy rain and a downpour?” It gave a whole new meaning to the word “inane”. Sadly, we were not treated to any great insight or wisdom on this matter either, which just goes to prove that men really can’t talk about anything other than football. Although it has to be said that a group of men employed to commentate on an international football match probably do represent the pinnacle of male development, so it’s hardly surprising that something as complex as the weather might elude them. I also enjoyed FIFAs attempts to entertain the crowd with its throw-back to the golden age of silent cinema; watching the referee regularly come out with a ball and then randomly throw it into the air and watch it land with a splash without bouncing, was a wonderful pastiche of the early greats, such as Charlie Chaplin Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton. It was raining, the pitch was clearly getting more and more waterlogged, what did he expect to happen? (If he was an astronaut he’d be the one to go outside and take off his helmet, just to check that there really wasn’t any air there.) Not a smile did he flash either, not even for a moment; I couldn’t tell if he was totally raging inside at the futility of what he was being told to do, in front of millions of people, and getting soaked doing it, or he really was taking it very seriously. Jeez, he needs to lighten up a bit. He had all the demeanour of a detective investing a serious crime scene; which considering the nonsense with the automatically closing roof that they didn’t close, he sort of was. This film also features a number of serious crime scenes.
1997 – Certificate: 18 – USA
Rating Details: Strong Bloody Violence
Try as I might, I just can’t work up any real enthusiasm for this film. I feel it ought to be a lot better than it is, which just added to my disappointment. There’s nothing really wrong with it, but nothing really right with it either. It just kind of exists because “Scream” exists, a bit like the relationship between dead leaves in autumn and trees. It’s not really very scary, it’s not really very funny, it’s not really very gory and it’s not really very hip. It doesn’t help that I get “Scream” and “Scary Movie” mixed up in my head, so in my mind it’s become a sort of inoffensive Frankenstein film made up of several others; (let’s not forget the two further sequels to “Scream” and the three sequels to “Scary Movie”. That’s eight nearly identical films, so it’s no wonder I’m confused. Watching it felt like one of things you just have to do from time to time, not something to get worked up about or anything, but just something you do and not give much thought to, like going to the toilet I guess. What I did hate was that it was non-anamorphic, so with its widescreen aspect ratio I ended up watching a picture the size and shape of an enlarged match, without a head. God, I can’t be bothered with anymore thinking about this film right now.
Recommended for people who saw Scream, I guess.
No cats, decapitations or chainsaws.
Top badass moment? Whatever. It might as well be Cotton Weary finally getting what he wanted (greedy asshole) and becoming a sort of hero(ish). That’s badass(ish).