New York last week, Chicago this week, London next week… and if I don’t get to Hungary soon, I’m in big trouble.
My stylist is working on Moon Princess, a kids’ film being shot in Budapest and she’s been there so long my hair is going Magyar. It is not a good look. You know what I mean: hat-time, scarf-time, helmet-time. Mostly, I just don’t get out of the car…
At almost three hours long – I couldn’t feel my legs afterwards – the new Brad Pitt film, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, sure is pretty but it is deffo an aisle seat night at the cinema.
Even worse, Brad is totally outshone by Ben Affleck’s baby brother Casey, who is quite alluring and seems to have grown a set of Keira Knightley’s teeth.
The film got divoon raves on the festival circuit (and there are a few juicy nude shots of many gorgeous men, Pitt-in-a-tub included) but let me sum the sucker up for you: Brokeback Brad it ain’t.
Despite great music and fab cinematograpy, Jess James is basically Legends of the Fall went to bed with Cold Mountain and had a baby that talks funny. There could not be clunkier dialogue – ‘He unriddled him’/’Jesse was indolent, insufferable, insouciant’ – it led my date to comment ‘Jesse was thesaurus’. Cripesomighty, if you’ve been listening to any 70s Elton John – not that you would be but he did do a song about Robert Ford – you may notice that this whole film smacks of nothing so much as EJ lyrics strung together, dadgummit. And if you don’t know Elton John lyrics, consider yourself one of the lucky ones.
More soon from Chicagoland, where I shall put on a hat, veil and sunglasses and head off to Mal-Mart to buy extremely tight ribbed muscle-shirts for my mates at the gym… Can anything beat thin cotton over big pecs, nice lats and killer deltoids? Add a cool breeze and, as Julia Roberts says in Pretty Woman, colour me happy.