03.17.2003 || 00h55

The Favourite Game, the lease-favourite movie.

So, Mystie and I saw the Favourite Game to-night. I spent the first half of the film fighting down the urge to spew angry invective, and the second half fighting the urge to spew my supper. JR Bourne missed the Breavman boat completely, stripping the rôle of just about any dimension he could. The dude playing Krantz was painful to watch and Tamara was similarly grim and colourless. The only bright spot was Michèle-Barbara Pelletier, who is beautiful and a more than capable actor in her own right, but she didn't look like Shell to me and I couldn't see past that. Oh, and she's *so* obviously French-Canadian in terms of her accent, that there was simply no way she could pull off a character from New York City.

The film. Fuck. It was as if Bernar Hébert got explosive diarrhoea, bent over, aimed his arse at the screen, and let 'er rip. At the end, I said ' I can't believe someone beat me to it and made *this.*' I don't think Mystie understood me at first. I might have been incoherent. Fuck, the film certainly was.

One of my favourite books. The one, in fact, that made me write my first lines way back when.

I hope this film sinks back into the quagmire of mediocrity from whence it came. Leonard didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve this. Not at 11 bucks a head.

||Gods save the Queen,

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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