Before I babble on about that though, spare a thought for the poor lady in front of me in the ticket queue. “Can I have two tickets for Aviator 3D”, she asked the cinedroid at the counter. I can only imagine her distress when she got into the auditorium to see a bunch of blue-skinned aliens wazzing about instead of an overlong Scorsese-directed biopic of Howard Hughes.
If Where The Wild Things Are was a fish, it would be an odd fish. But it’s not, it’s a film. An odd film. Odd because, despite having some very believable Wild Things and an excellent child actor, as well as encompassing everything that is staggeringly complex yet entirely simple about being a) a kid and b) a grown-up, it just didn’t connect with me. I think it was because the characters Bob and Terry seemed so different to how I remember them from '70s sitcom ‘Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads?’
However the rest of The Road is mostly two hours of unswervingly bleak grimness and desperation, which isn’t what I was after on my day off. If I’d wanted unswervingly bleak grimness and desperation I’d have gone into work. Boom boom!
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