Archives for posts with tag: colin firth

Did you see Mamma Mia and hate it? Don’t see this. Did you see Mamma Mia and sort of like it? For sure see this, it’s better. If you loved Mamma Mia in its original flavor, you will go bananas for this.

Donna (Meryl Streep) has died, unexplainedly, but probably because Meryl didn’t have a lot of time to spend on this movie. And also so people can look sad. Sophie (Amanda Seyfried) has restored the hotel, and it’s lovely, but Sky (Dominic Cooper) is in New York and might want to stay there because career or bagels or something. It storms like crazy the night before the grand opening OH NO.

Running along with this is flashbacks of Donna’s (Lily James) earlier life, where–in utter defiance of probability–she manages not to know which of Sam (Jeremy Irvine), Bill (Josh Dylan), or Harry (Hugh Skinner) is Sophie’s father and does not seem like an irresponsible tramp. This is partly because Lily James’s smile is slightly infectious and also because all of them are crazy hot and catch her at reasonable emotional states for jumping into bed with people. Richard Curtis has managed this well. They’re pretty good young Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgård, and Colin Firth, respectively, although I could ask for slightly more differentiation between the non-blondes.

BUT. The best part is her young Christine Baranski (Jessica Keenan Wynn) and Julie Walters (Alexa Davies). They’re hilarious and adorable and good matches, but still have their own personalities. They dress horribly and give slightly bad advice (as they will again when they are older) but are so cheekily supportive it’s hard to be angry. Also the constant gags with the youth of the flashbacks and the age of the original cast are wonderful.MV5BMjEwMTM3OTI1NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNDk5NTY0NTM@._V1_UX182_CR0,0,182,268_AL_.jpg

ALSO CHER.

This movie knew exactly who would see it, and catered to that mercilessly, but it was also so gleeful. I could not stop smiling. I look forward to drinking a bottle and a half of rosé and singing along to it in the future.

Stray observations:

  • Andy Garcia jumped on this bandwagon and if you think about it for a split second it’s extremely obvious why but the payoff is so good.
  • Wait for the credits sequence. It’s way better than the first one.
  • We get “Waterloo” AND “Fernando” and I could not be happier.

Director: Ol Parker
Rating: PG-13
Length: 114 minutes
Score: 5/5 and also unrateable

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If you saw the trailers for Kingsman, you probably thought that it looked like a heightened version of James Bond, with stylish rooms full of guns and a slightly off sense of humor. And it sort of is that, but also tonally so, so different. Colin Firth kills a lot of people. A lot.

Kingsman is both a Savile Row tailor and a stateless band of elite spy-assassins with cute Knights of the Round Table nicknames. They’re all English, though, and, until this film starts, posh.* Their brief is…unclear, but appears to involve general world-saving type things. Arthur (Michael Caine) is in charge, and the three agents with whom we most interact are Galahad (Firth), Lancelot (Jack Davenport), and Merlin (Mark Strong). Merlin is basically Q, but mean. They’re trying to find a new agent to replace a dead comrade, so we start out with a bunch of posh kids (particularly Edward Holcroft as Charlie and Sophie Cookson as Roxy), and one streetwise youth, Eggsy (Taron Egerton).

They are pitted against a tycoon with world-domination and/or cleansing ambitions, Valentine (Samuel L. Jackson, with a hell of a lisp and a baseball cap in place of his trademark Kangol, but otherwise the same). He has an assistant with blade prosthetics on her legs (Sofia Boutella), and those blades are not euphemistic. Also he has kidnapped Mark Hamill(!).

The acting is better than you’d think, frankly. Both Firth and Strong are glintingly, urbanely intense, in a very pleasing way. Egerton makes the chip on Eggsy’s shoulder both irritating and comprehensible, which is no mean feat. Beyond that, though, there’s not much there. Roxy is unfortunately rather a cipher, but it’s probably something of a step to have a woman in this sort of movie as anything other than ornament, so I guess maybe we shouldn’t be picky. And the clothes and interiors are great.

This is sort of Avengers (Marvel-type) meets James Bond, but it’s less than the sum of its parts. The cartoonish notes–down to its comic book pedigree, presumably–are discordant and sometimes offensively flippant. The violence is all extremely well choreographed, but a lot of people die. It’s not very gory, but perhaps it’s not gory enough. We are constantly told that the stakes are high, but it never really seems that way.

*Maybe not, though, with Michael Caine. Unclear.

Director: Matthew Vaughn
Rating: R
Length: 129 minutes
Score: 3/5

In Main Street, Colin Firth is a Texan who works for a hazardous waste disposal company. His name is Gus Leroy. And this movie was made in 2010. I know, I don’t understand either.

In fact, for the whole movie, I just kept asking myself, “Why was this made into a movie? What is the point of any of this? Is any of the set-up going to pay off?”

It takes place in Durham, North Carolina, which for some reason is portrayed as a small Southern town of which no one has ever heard. Harris (Orlando Bloom) is a city cop whose high school sweetheart Mary (Amber Tamblyn) has essentially guilted him into going to law school so he can make something of himself. Margo Martindale is his mother; apparently there’s an estranged brother (named Peter) somewhere–but I’m not sure why, or why, for instance, Mary doesn’t know Peter’s name. Mary is fooling around with her caddish boss (Andrew McCarthy, for some reason), until she finds out he’s married, and then…decides to move to Atlanta. Harris agrees, for some reason, to drive her to the airport. Gus is renting a warehouse for his hazardous waste from Miss Georgiana (Ellen Burstyn), and seems quite squirrelly for a while until her niece (Patricia Clarkson’s Willa) arrives on the scene and sasses him into a conscience. Or maybe he already had it. You can’t tell.

I wish I had something clever to say about this movie. I’m not actually mad at it, but it is remarkable for inspiring basically no feelings other than a slightly irritated confusion. It doesn’t have a point. Perhaps it was trying to make a social, economic, or environmental statement, but it doesn’t. All of the romances, such as they are, are so wooden, talky, and vacuous that you just feel sorry for the people doomed to utter these lines. Like, this movie is a waste of Orlando Bloom’s talents. Let that sink in for a while.

Director: John Doyle
Rating: PG
Length: 92 min.
Score: 1/5.