Killing a boring Sunday afternoon by watching back-to-back Die Hard with a Vengeance and Die Hard 4.0 (also known by the stupid American title of Live Free or Die Hard), the two Die Hard films I have watched the least. It’s the tunnel scene in 4.0 with the cars flying everywhere, and the improbably beautiful militant computer hackers controlling everything electrical from the hi-tech real-life God-simulation. John McClane has just basically thrown a car into a helicopter. I have nothing specifically sarcastic to say about this film (beyond my usual tone), as it is a more than competent late addition to the franchise. With its fight scenes in apartments leading to adventures down the American-style fire escapes, and interactions with futuristic security systems, it makes me yearn to play Splinter Cell and Max Payne etc. Lacking any gaming system though, I had no respite from the horrors I was about to face, he said changing tense.
My fiancée arrives home, and it’s her turn to choose the film. Oh hell, I can barely bring myself to write the name... OK, here goes nothing... we watched Sex and the City 2. As bad as my closed manly-mind could ever have imagined it to be in Fulfilled Stereotype World, its worse, so much worse. Yes, of course it has the occasional bit of pretty good dialogue, but most of it is just shit, unashamedly so. My namesake, Ms Bradshaw, wanders around the palatial Abu Dhabi hotel gawping her mouth wow, oh wow, wow, before exclaiming I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto. The entire film just seems to be a conveyor belt of lazy clichés designed to please gay stereotypes. Plus that Carrie Bradshaw is just a dick; selfish, spoiled, overly-privileged, dick. Thank god I won’t have to watch that again.
This was never meant to be a film review day; I actually had a proper article idea this morning, but can’t for the life of me remember what it was. It must such a hot idea that it burnt my brain and fell. Anyway as it turns out, I don’t think those two paragraphs of film related bleating could be considered ‘film reviews’ by any standards. My comments on Sex in the City 2 wouldn’t even make a poorly written anonymous Amazon review, let alone something I will electronically publish in my own name, preserving online for the rest of time.
I was sure I had a Splinter Cell PC game somewhere about the flat, in a drawer or a box or something, but no amount of aimless rooting has unearthed it. Perhaps I only imagined I had it. Ho-hum, finger twiddling is not so much fun without a control pad in my hands. Let’s compose an ode to boredom. No, let’s not. I'll just add some pictures to make today's post seem more interesting than it really isn't. Another lazy short cut: I'll just recycle some from elsewhere in the blog.