Sweet Nothings

The main problem with being an avid fan of Mark Kermode and the Kermode/Mayo "Wittertainment" brand is trying to avoid basing my opinions exclusively upon his. I try not to always agree with him, but such is the strength of his character that I find myself absorbing his views by an odd kind of osmosis. Take Inglourious Basterds , for instance. Even though I really enjoyed the movie and it had those two incredible sequences (the opening one in the house and the one in the bar), I share every criticism the good Doctor made of that film and its creator - overlong, undisciplined, self-indulgent in the extreme, etc. It's just that I love Tarantino's style so much that I can forgive him an awful lot (I've not seen Death Proof , to be fair). Basterds wasn't my film of the year though. Film studios and critics everywhere will be devastated to know that I haven't really decided on one. All the big Oscar-fodder came along in January in what has become the annual ...

Wrestling is a funny old thing. I can never satisfactorily explain why I enjoy watching it, beyond a few lame-sounding lines about male soap operas, the primal (male) love of combat, etc. The Wrestler isn't going to change anybody's minds about the sport (or "sports entertainment", or whatever), especially after the genuinely gut-churning hardcore bout involving glass, barbed wire and a staple gun. However, the film is far more concerned with universal themes of fear of getting old, and the struggle to find one's place in the world, and Marisa Tomei's single-mom stripper is just as important to its success. The role of ageing fuck-up Randy "the Ram" really does fit Rourke like a glove and an Oscar win would be well deserved. Ultimately the story is fairly generic, the sub-plot involving Randy's daughter being especially predictable, but as a wrestling fan I can attest that this film has been made with care and attention to detail, and as a viewe...