I’m human, as most of you would probably have guessed, and like every other human, I have needs.
They aren’t critical needs, but needs nonetheless. Most people’s needs are less trivial or more explicit than mine, but I believe my needs to be quite simple.
Give me biscuits, give me tea and give me a good book/TV-series/movie to sink my teeth into and I am a very happy girl.
But the thing about these so-called needs is that sometimes, you need to prioritize. Sometimes you need to say to yourself, ‘Maybe, your degree in (whatever) is a bit more important than Robert Downey Jr’s latest escapade.’ And to that I say, ‘No one ever says that to me. Not even myself.’
I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?
Well, instead of writing an essay about the Neolithic period in Ireland or the ins and outs of Charles’ Gladstone’s speeches, I find myself watching Iron Man 3 – which, mind you, I have been waiting for for 6 months – Now You See Me, reading House of Silk by Anthony Horowitz and eating Jammy Dodgers.
(I guess I am going to have to talk about the DW 50th anniversary and season 3 of Sherlock soon, but I don’t think I am ready…)
I guess we will start with Now You See Me
This movie came out a few months after the Avengers, and as soon as I saw Mark Ruffalo’s loveable face in the trailer, I knew I had to watch it. It definitely provided some of the mind-fuck element that most people were expecting, and yes, Morgan Freeman is so effortlessly awesome. The whole movie was brilliant delivered by Jesse Eisenberg, Isla Fisher and Dave Franco. Michael Caine pops along for the show with a surprisingly cockney accent. But there are one or two little things that didn’t work for me. I am not so sure the ending worked. They tried to give us a twist that was a bit unusual and unexpected, but I don’t think it really gave the effect expected. At all. There are many other ways and many better ways in which the movie could have ended. Also, Mark Ruffalo plays the stereotypical dick-head FBI agent who takes his bad break in life out on anyone who crosses him, sarcastic and mean. It’s getting old now, people. We know, it ain’t easy to be an FBI agent. Let it go already. Let a nice person be the bad-ass case-solving spy/detective protagonist for once. Please. But apart from that, it was pretty cool.
Now, on to Iron Man 3.
My life before Iron Man 3 now seems completely insignificant. I had been waiting, yes, but I was also distracted by other things. I wish I wasn’t. Robert Downey Jr, in my opinion, is one of the biggest talents in Hollywood today. Not many people can do what he does, and by God does he do it brilliantly. Iron Man 3 takes place after The Avengers, in which [SPOILER ALERT], Iron Man, a.k.a Tony Stark, nearly dies. In Iron Man 3, we see him deal with this traumatic event. And the string events caused by his dealing with this traumatic event. Most superheroes kind off shrug off anything that happens to them – ‘I nearly died? *Pfffft* No biggie. Do that every day.’ – and move on as if nothing happened. Tony, however, suffers from PTS throughout the movie, and it reminds us that even the cockiest, most arrogant and seemingly invincible of people, are still human. We forget that sometimes, and Iron Man 3 provided a gentle reminder. I’m joking, it wasn’t gentle at all. But a reminder nevertheless. I believe that’s why IM3 was such a success. Not just because of the awesome kick-ass superhero element of the movie, but also because of the blatant human part of it. There are some parts which were just so brilliantly executed, and this movie contains one of my favourite twists in history. Excellently directed by Shane Black and wonderful performances by Gwyneth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Guy Pearce and Ben Kingsley really make this movie a must-watch-over-and-over-again.
Especially Ben Kingsley.
Next up, House of Silk by Anthony Horowitz.
House of Silk by Anthony Horowitz is a post-canon story, telling the one tale of Sherlock Holmes that was kept a secret for all these years. Heart-wrenching yet beautiful, it depicts Watson’s last written word, with one last tale of murder, mystery and much, much more. I was in bits after it. It was a shame, because I thought that Anthony Horowitz did a surprisingly good job on the book, but unfortunately, the book ended on a manner leaving it impossible for a sequel to even be considered. This is one of those books that are not truly appreciated until read. One might think, no one can ever be as good as the legend that is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and that is true, but I do not believe that it was Horowitz’s aim to be as good or even better than him. He simply wrote a fanfic, and it should be treated as thus. So people who are giving out about Anthony Horowitz disgracing the infamous Sherlock Holmes series, get a grip. Everyone has the right to imagine, and Anthony Horowitz simply put it down on paper. His writing did echo the manner in which Sir Arthur wrote, but obviously, Sir Arthur was the original creator, and therefore the better writer. This wasn’t a matter of competition, but a matter of honouring the good man’s word. So, bravo, Mr Horowitz. Bravo.
I’ll probably be talking about Doctor Who and Sherlock and The Hobbit 2 and stuff next time.
So until then,