johnflagg

This film was beautifully shot, catching the denseness of winter, crunchy snow, breath hanging on the air and lots of colourful warm cloths, when two policemen discover a body in the part frozen river. That's when it all started to go downhill.(The film that is, not the river) They stood around and asked "What are we supposed to do?", a bit like Laurel and Hardy, except without the humour, and so the film ground on. Was it murder, suicide, accident? The didn't know, and I didn't care. A sex scene with one of the policemen and a lady teacher, to be followed a while later with the lady saying " I can't go on doing this", which she promptly did again, and as far as I can make out had no part of the plot, but then, I didn't find a plot anyway. Dull it was and dull it remained right up to the denouement, which was, well I really don't know for by that time the cat needed feeding, the budgie was making a racket and the goldfish started to swim anticlockwise which rather drew me away........ If you have a couple of hours to spare, and its a choice between watching this movie and watching paint dry, go for the paint!

I realised when the film first started that this was going to be "one of those movies". Starting with the logo for "The works", showing three interlocking gear wheels, which if this was made in reality, would not work. The same has to be said for this film.

This is a film of indulgence, self indulgence. On the part of the titles people, making "different" lettering. Unreadable, but different.

Then the two "stars" being different, Coogan and Brydon offering a feast of pointless observation starting in the first scene about the colour of Brydon's teeth while in the make up department. Why, I will never know.

Then being different, talking to screen with a pointless dialogue, about....."but then I will tell you of this later"....which never came.

Jumping from an eighteenth? century battle, to before Tristram Shandy was borne, (Oh by the way, that is who this film was supposed to be about), then accompanied by twenty first century film crew mixing with the characters, then back again to the film, and so on, and NO STORY.

The only laughs I could detect were the ones from the owners of the mobile catering company, who must have made a FORTUNE out of all this, laughing all the way to THEIR bank.

A different film, like being different by going to work naked. Different, but who cares?

My suggestion, save your money, go buy a beer.

I sat through this. An Englishman, Hugh Grant, trying to play another Englishman, Simon Cowell,(and doing that quite well), but why waste such talents in a vacuous story that first graders would have written, if they had nothing better to do? I guess it's the same old story, someone must have thought, we can make some money by cashing in on the moment. George W and his idea of reality, these TV "talent" shows, the Iraq war, some stereotypical terrorists and weave them loosely together to make a film. So we are subjected to a hard bitten greedy bimbo, a decent, patriotic soldier boy, not very bright terrorists, a cynical showbiz agent, and an even more cynical impresario and a President who had all the grip of a wet lettuce, all mixed together in a fairly predictable storyline. With the storyline so lifeless, and the weave so loose, I have to admit, I fell asleep.

You may enjoy it, who can tell, but for me and mine, time not well spent.

Just saw Huckabees. American comedy can be very funny. Usually it's great. However, I'm British, and although we are noted for our sense of humour, (we have to be, just look at our weather and our deputy Prime Minister) but somehow this film just does not do it for me. I am reluctant to express my true feelings concerning this, (IMDB protocol and all that) but let me suggest that existentialism in this form has a long long way to go before I could even begin to be entertained by this piece of fragile, pretentious self indulgence. The search in existentialism, can, in part be a search for a point in ,or to, existence. A point to this film? No chance.