Wednesday, 29 June 2011

A Belated Plug For Film4's Summer Screen Thingy

Much has already been made of the Film4 Summer Screen event taking place at London's Somerset House between July 27th and August 7th. I've never been so I can neither confirm nor deny the aceness of the experience, but I'll be there to see the Die Hard / Attack The Block double bill on July 30th, and I expect it'll be a ruddy bloody smashing thing.

I have it on good authority that there are still tickets available for The Spy Who Loved Me, The Big Blue, The Apartment, Thelma & Louise, In The Mood For Love, Scott Pilgrim vs The World and the Serpico / Shaft double bill, so have a crack at any of those you fancy.


What's received less coverage is the equally worthy 'Behind The Screen' programme that accompanies the main event: a series of hour-long talks with some big names from the movie world, each related to the main screening that follows it. Joe Cornish will be there to waffle about his filmic influences, Barry Norman will be having a go on Roman Polanski, and John Barry's "musical sons and daughters" (whoever they are) will be discussing the great man's legacy. The full programme can be found here, and includes a rotating image gallery that features this hair / aviators / moustache combo:
So if you've failed to secure tickets to the screening of your choice or are the kind of weirdo who watches all the DVD extras but not the actual film, then maybe Behind The Screen is for you. Yes, you!

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

A Brief Word About Life In A Day

Life In A Day is the ambitious Ridley Scott project in which thousands of people submitted videos of themselves going about their business on July 24, 2010 to YouTube, which were then edited together to make a film about a day in the life of the citizens on Earth, 80% of whom apparently live in North America.

It's quite good (let's say 6 out of 10 good), even though it's basically You've Been Framed: The Movie but with fewer people falling over.
Anyone who's seen Life In A Day can't fail to have been repulsed and distraught by one stomach-churning clip involving a dumb animal being stripped of its remaining dignity inside a horrendous contraption that nobody in their right mind would want anything to do with.

I'm referring, of course, to Lamborghini Man.
Lamborghini Man only appears briefly, but in that short time he succeeds in showing to the world that he's a smug prick with a horrible car and little sense of perspective.

It occurred to me, though, that perhaps his clip had been edited that way: a cynical cinematic sleight of hand deliberately designed to manipulate us into believing that a potentially good and decent chap is a proper bellend. So I tracked down his full clip as submitted, to see if it vindicated him and showed him to be a worthy citizen of the world and not just a twat in a hat.

Turns out he's just a twat in a hat.

Monday, 27 June 2011

Warning: Bond 23 May Contain Chase Scenes

All of us here at The Incredible Suit (just me) enjoy the IMDb "Parents Guide", despite its maverick approach to apostrophes. It's a useful tool for finding out if a film has, for example, bare breasts in it, and therefore whether or not it's worth watching.

I was delighted to discover that the Parents Guide has already cast an eye over the next James Bond film, which has yet to shoot a single frame, and offers the following useful warnings for any parents concerned about its content:
Be sure to shield your younglings' eyes during all that alcohol consumption probably.

Sunday, 26 June 2011

The Week In Trailers

In what may or may not become a regular Sunday feature, I thought it might be nice to gather up the week's most interesting new trailers in a dirty old sack, club them over the head, drive them to an abandoned warehouse miles from anywhere where nobody can hear their screams and subject them to the kind of intense scrutiny and personal violation that I hope The Incredible Suit will one day become famous for. Place your bets now on whether or not I keep this up for longer than one week.

Puss In Boots
I'm terribly sorry but, apart from obvious jokes based on a cat doing things cats do, like chasing reflected lights and drinking milk, that's bloody funny. As long as we're not subjected to gags about hairballs, fleas and genital-licking, I predict good things.

A Dangerous Method


Come on Gus Van Sant, own up. This is you doing another deliberately wretched shot-for-shot remake of a much-loved classic, right? Phew. For a minute there I thought this was an actual film.

Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes

How can anyone not be excited about a film that posits a world in which monkeys have become so intelligent that they can tell us their favourite brand of cream crackers?

Captain America: The First Avenger

So the transform-o-tron not only turns Tiny Unconvincing CG Chris Evans into Superhero Chris Evans but it also reconfigures his trousers so they still fit him perfectly? That's amazing.

I'm going to call this one now: It won't be very good. Not Green Lantern bad, but not Thor good.

Saturday, 25 June 2011

Saturday Playlist #26: X-Men

With X-Men: First Class still bringing home the box office Bacon, it seems like as good a time as any to squirt some X-music into your E-holes.
Each X-Men film has featured a different composer, and the lack of a unifying theme for the series has been something of a disappointment. Where's its Superman march, its Bond theme, its Star Wars fanfare? Nowhere, that's where.

Michael Kamen scored X-Men, tragically being credited as Michael K-Men DO YOU SEE?! on the soundtrack CD, and frankly he did a bit of a shit job: the album is the musical equivalent of a mutant whose power is to make the process of paint drying even duller.

Fortunately John Ottman took over for X2, bringing some serious BAAA, BAAA, BAAAA!! to proceedings, and managed to avoid being credited as 'John Ott-Men'. For X-Men: The Last Stand, John Powell took over, and Harry Gregson-Williams had a go on X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

It fell to Hans Zimmer prodigy Henry (not Hugh) Jackman (not Jack-Men) to score X-Men: First Class, and guess what? He did a FIRST CLASS JOB, ahahaha. Hopefully he'll carry on with any X-prequel-sequels, and, based on this piece of aural loveliness, may even prove a worthy successor to David Arnold should he be unavailable for future Bondery.

Anyway, enough waffle. Time to "X-perience" some "X-citing" "X-amples" of X-Music! I don't know where genius writing like that comes from, honest. I'm just born with it.


Friday, 24 June 2011

The Incredible Suit Is...

Yep, it's the second birthday of your favourite movie blog, unless you prefer one of the others. This time last year I celebrated by holding a sickeningly egotistical poll to find out your favourite post from Year One, then followed it up with a LITERALLY INTERESTING interview with Joe Cornish while he was still shooting Attack The Block, which I don't think I shall ever tire of plugging.

This year, now that I'm older and more mature, I'm not bothering with anything like that. I can tell you straight away what the best post from the last 365 days is: it's this one. And I haven't got any groundbreaking interviews for you either; Daniel Craig's solicitors have put the kibosh on that, thanks very much.

Still, if you want to celebrate by buying me the ten-foot tall Timothy Dalton painting from that shop in Crouch End that Empire were on about earlier this week, feel free. In the meantime, I'm off to the Cinema Ritrovato festival in Bologna this weekend, so expect a lot of stuff in my Twitter feed about spaghetti bolognese.

Hasta lasagna, don't get any on ya.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

BlogalongaBond /
On Her Majesty's Secret Service:
George Lazenby Gives Good Fisting

When the Bond franchise was rebooted with 2006's Casino Royale, much was made of the overhaul the series was given: a new actor as a more serious Bond with fewer gadgets, and a bold story in which 007 puts his love for a laydee before his job. What seemed to get forgotten in all the excitement about Daniel Craig's trunks was that the series has had several reboots over the years, the first of which featured all of the aforementioned 'radical' elements, and occurred at roughly the time Craig was busy being born.

With Sean Connery throwing in the toupée (for now) and the Bond films busting the barrier of believability with You Only Live Twice's hollowed out volcano, it was time for change. On Her Majesty's Secret Service took more risks than any Bond film before or since, and it's all the better for it. The first act plays out like a romantic melodrama (interspersed with the odd brutal smackdown) and culminates in a full on montage of fromage which sits oddly in the canon, but from then on it's vintage Bond action all the way to its shattering climax.

Former Bond editor Peter Hunt directs this sixquel with the enthusiasm and verve of a man who's been wanting to do this job for years, Richard Maibaum's scipt dares to be exciting and intelligent, and everybody else from the cast and crew goes above and beyond the call of duty, taking their work as seriously as the film demands. Well, almost everybody.
Australian model George Lazenby may have the line-reading skills of a sideboard - which was unfortunate, given the effort Maibaum put in to give Bond's character some depth - but his physicality and arrogance work in his favour, to the point where you believe he's fighting for his life with every punch. In fact, Lazenby's fight scenes are the most crunchingly savage since that eventful train journey, and we wouldn't see Bond displaying such animal ferocity again for nearly forty years.

There are three short but astonishing scraps in OHMSS's first twenty minutes, the first giving Lazenby the chance to atone for his abysmal introduction, in which he may as well have shouted "G'day, mate! Name's Bond, throw another shrimp on the barbie etc!". Mercifully, the delivery is forgotten as Bond takes on two thugs which such gusto that it's a wonder his arms don't fly off.
He's helped by some avant-garde editing - the fight moves from the beach to the middle of the ocean in two insane cuts - but it's bruising stuff, and is a far better introduction to the new 007 than his cringing verbal greeting.

Less than ten minutes later, Bond is attacked in a hotel room by an enormous man intent on separating his head from his shoulders. This is one of the greatest fights in the entire series, as the two men destroy the room in 48 seconds (and, coincidentally, 48 cuts) of walloping mayhem. You can see Lazenby's face in almost every shot, and he's really going for it, the lack of a stunt double giving the scene wincing realism. Like From Russia With Love's classic train fight, there's no score over this punch-up, so every smash of the furniture and crack of the chops properly hits home.
It's not long before there's another scuffle, this one quite short but remarkable for its absolutely bonkers crash zooms and bizarre sound effects. Each kick and punch sounds like someone pushing a drum machine down a well, and the mental camerawork and close-quarters action pull you right into the fight. I was also pleased that Lazenby follows Connery's lead in this scene by doing his own Kenneth Williams impression:
Sadly The Lazenbox's fight skillz weren't matched by his eye for a good opportunity, and with staggering short-sightedness he decided that Bond couldn't survive beyond the decade in which he had flourished, and ruled himself out of any further appearances as 007. It's probably fair to say that nobody was particularly sad about that, but instead of taking a further risk on another new actor, the producers settled back into the comfy sofa of familiarity by re-hiring Sean Connery to make a final, flabby appearance in the next film.

Commercially, the reboot had failed, but it was an experiment the Bond films would return to, and when they did, it would be the punch in the face that the series was so badly asking for.

The Contessa Teresa di Vicenzo
Haughty, brattish, independent and playful, Tracy is the most complex and respectfully-written Bond girl in the franchise. Diana Rigg plays her to perfection, excelling in the action scenes as much as in the more dialogue-heavy stretches, and it helps that she does most of her own stunts, having kicked plenty of diabolical mastermind behind in TV's The Avengers. She only comes second to Thunderball's Fiona Volpe in the Bond Girl Hall of Fame because in a fight, Fiona would play dirtier.

The winter sports
Shot from the ground by genius skiing cameraman Willy Bogner and from the air by genius aerial cameraman Johnny Jordan, and skilfully marshalled by second unit director and editor John Glen (who would eventually direct five Bond films), OHMSS's amazing snow-bound action scenes are the first and best of Bond's forays onto the slopes. Only a few sloppy back-projection shots spoil the mood, but for the most part these are by far the stand-out moments of the film's action-packed second half. 

The score
John Barry - "On Her Majesty's Secret Service"
John Barry's greatest work? Probably. Best Bond theme ever? Definitely.

Miss Moneypenny
The underrated Lois Maxwell had already spent nearly six films as M's secretary, alternately teasing and mooning over 007, but it was at Bond's wedding to Tracy that she unleashed this astonishing, wordless performance. The complexity of her character is distilled into a couple of dignified tears, a forced smile, a brief wave and the clutching of a hat. Many fans admit to shedding a tear at the death of Mrs Bond, but it's this scene that makes me well up in the name of unrequited love.

The end
Having at last saved Tracy from both Blofeld and herself, and found his own quantum of solace in the arms of an equal partner and a secure future, Bond takes his eye off the ball and loses everything in one devastating second. If there's one scene that exemplifies the risks the filmmakers undertook in the production of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, it's this one, and what's almost as tragic as its heartbreaking content is that Broccoli, Saltzman & co totally failed to live up to its promise with successive films.

And finally: The double entendres are by now becoming so regular that the writers have almost stopped bothering with the double bit:

Wearing traditional Scottish dress as part of his cover as Sir Hilary Bray, Bond is dining with a bevy of beauties. Ruby, seated next to him, slips her hands under the table and lifts his kilt in order to write her room number on his inner thigh with lipstick. Bond momentarily loses his train of thought.

Is anything the matter, Sir Hilary?

Just a slight stiffness coming on... in the shoulder.
FACT: The words "in the shoulder" were added at the behest of the BBFC, who for some reason felt that without them, audiences might think Bond was referring to his steadily engorging penis.

BlogalongaBond will return with Diamonds Are Forever

What the hell is BlogalongaBond? I'll tell you.
Further BlogalongaBondareading here

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Snow Country For Bold Men

I've banged on before about some of the BFI's amazing new DVD and Blu-ray releases so don't make me repeat myself. Just know that this week sees the release of The Great White Silence, which I missed at last year's London Film Festival for reasons which escape me, although they had better be bloody good ones.

When Captain Robert Falcon Scott (R.N., C.V.O.) decided to jeff off to the literal arse end of the world in 1911, he had the foresight to take along Herbert Ponting (F.R.G.S., F.R.P.S., F.Z.S.) (no idea) and his new-fangled moving picture-recording box so that, 100 years on, people could sit in the comfort of their own homes and relive his tragic story with a nice cup of tea and a Hob Nob.
Ponting's footage, silent and tinted, forms this documentary, originally released in 1924 and stunningly restored by the BFI. It tells the story of the Terra Nova's doomed expedition to the South Pole from a first-hand perspective, though it's bulked out by Ponting's observations on the behavioural patterns of seals and penguins, which nobody had yet studied at such close quarters. And while it's mostly a serious document of an historic event, Ponting still finds time for some early-20th Century LOLs:
Those three-month-long stretches of perpetual winter nights must have just flown by.

Hilarity aside, The Great White Silence features some stunning photography - the polar landscape looks like the surface of an alien planet, especially when it's tinted purple - and is undeniably moving as it reaches its bitter, frozen finale. It's also massively educational: apparently there are VOLCANOES on the polar ice caps! The expedition took TWO YEARS! Seals are ADORABLE and TASTY!

This release features a new, ethereal soundtrack and buckets of extras for all you South Pole fans out there, and while The Great White Silence is probably more effective in a cinema with an audience, it's still worth a peep on DVD. Probably even more so on Blu-ray. So peep away.

Monday, 20 June 2011


If Bridesmaids achieves nothing else, it at least gives the divine Kristen Wiig the chance to stretch her comedy muscles, bat her comedy eyelashes and swing her comedy helicopter legs about in a lead role at long last. It also gives me an excuse to post this photo of her in knee-high socks and roller boots from Whip It:
She was Brahbrah in that episode of Flight Of The Conchords too, did you realise that? I didn't.

Fantasy women aside, Bridesmaids will in fact achieve plenty. It's a chick flick that doesn't just appeal to chicks and doesn't assume its audience is full of dribbling idiots, and it pretty much guarantees LOLs and possibly small incidents of eye-moisture in even the most granite-hearted bastards out there.Yes, I'm talking about you, me.

It's not massively original, it's fairly predictable and there's the odd stereotype in there
but where Bridesmaids differs from the usual humdrum romcom bumcrumbs is in its script, co-written by Wiig. It's funny without resorting to gross-out crudity (much - there is a hilarious puke or two), it's touching in all the right places and there's only one montage, which displays remarkable and welcome restraint. Sadly the conclusions of a couple of the bridesmaids' story arcs appear to have been left on a shelf somewhere; maybe we'll find out what happens to them in Bridesmaids 2, when they go to Thailand and all turn into horrible bitches.

The cast are uniformly excellent, with Chris O'Dowd and Jon Hamm holding their own against the ladies (fnerk), and polymath Paul Feig (he created, directed and produced several US TV series and has been acting since the '80s) directs with confidence, avoiding the easy path of churning out an XX-chromosome version of another popular pre-wedding misadventure film currently abusing cinema audiences.

Even so, Bridesmaids is bound to be labelled by some as The Hangover Part II with women, but that would be reductive. It's much better than that: it's The Hangover Part II without the bollocks.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

Lose The Horrendous Cock-Rock And Maybe I'll Be Interested

I didn't live in the Barbarian ages but I'm reasonably sure they didn't sit around listening to this nu-metal shit all day. What this trailer needs is a bit of Queen. Maybe 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Friday, 17 June 2011

Green Lantern

Green Lantern was always going to be a hard sell. I'm sure it works fine as a comic book, but when your superhero's powers come from a ring that has to be charged by an unwieldy lantern that's bestowed upon him by a dying alien whose head looks like Red Dwarf's Kryten's bell end, you're going to need a pretty impressive script to carry it off.
But guess what? Green Lantern's script isn't pretty impressive, it's catastrophically dreadful. Earth is under threat from a giant octopus-turd-cloud-creature in space. Why? Not sure. The Green Lantern Corps, a 3,600-strong team of intergalactic rozzers, entrust the safety of Earth to cocky slacker Hal Jordan, the first human ever to be made a Green Lantern. Why? Not sure. The octopus-turd-cloud-creature uses a scientist with a big forehead to help him take over Earth. Why? Not sure. Hal asks the other Green Lanterns for help, what with there being 3,600 of them sitting on their arses watching Jeremy Kyle, but they refuse. Why? Not sure.

Fortunately Hal's ring of power enables him to conjure up any item he can think of to help him. Anything at all. His mind is the limit. Literally ANYTHING. So, instead of a giant wall around the Earth, or an even bigger octopus-turd-cloud-creature with a better attitude toward humans, Hal creates planes, guns and catapults. Why? Not sure.
It will come as a tiny spoiler but no real surprise to anyone who's seen the trailer that Hal eventually defeats the octopus-turd-cloud-creature at the end of the film by saying a nonsensical rhyme he learned 90 minutes ago. Why didn't he do that straight away? Not sure. But yes, evil is defeated via the medium of poetry recital.

Even the once-mighty Ryan Rodney Reynolds looks ashamed to be involved. His confusion at spending months in front of a green screen wearing a unitard only to come out the other end looking like a twat in a mask is palpable, and it's had terrible repercussions for him, as this updated barometer of Ryanosity demonstrates:
Combine all that bollocks with some embarrassingly clunky exposition about Hal's dead Dad, a few unintentionally ridiculous-looking aliens (one poor bastard even looks a bit like The Actor Mark Strong), a baffling cameo appearance by the stargate from Stargate in the scientist villain's HQ (which is helpfully labelled "SCIENCE BUILDING") and countless other examples of inexcusable cabbage, and it soon becomes clear that Green Lantern is probably the worst film of 2011 so far.

If you're still not convinced, here's what the Daily Star's Alan Frank thinks:
 Oh, Alan. Don't ever change.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Point Blank (À Bout Portant)

Point Blank (or, to give it its French name, Pwan Blonc) was given a limited release last Friday, and by the time you read this will probably have been consigned to the smallest screen of an independent cinema 37 miles away from where you live, so I thought I'd better say something about it before it gets trampled by the mighty Ryan Rodney Reynolds and his absolutely amazing / unspeakably shit (take a guess) Green Lantern.

Point Blank is one of those thrillers Johnny French does so well. I'm not sure why every other country in the world (apart from maybe South Korea) has forgotten how to make taut, tense action films like this, but if everyone could just stop what they're doing and have a look at stuff like this, Tell No One and Mesrine, then maybe we wouldn't have to deal with stuff like, ooh, let's say, Green Lantern quite so often.

The story of an innocent man who has to rely on the help of a criminal when his wife is kidnapped by corrupt cops, Point Blank takes about as much time to explain its premise as it did for you to read this sentence. In fact the whole plot is pretty much distilled into this single shot from the trailer:
Spoiler: He gets trouble.

For the next 80 minutes it barrels through as much action as it can squeeze in, with another shootout, chase or fight scene coming along approximately every twelve seconds. And while the action is undeniably spectacular (an early incident with a motorbike made me do that sharp-intake-of-breath-through-clenched-teeth thing), that's all there really is. Exposition is rushed through lest it get in the way of someone jumping out of a window, and the characters are stencilled in from the Big Book Of Movie Clichés.

None of that really matters though: like a shark, Point Blank has to keep moving or it'll die, as is proven by the slightly rubbish coda. It's slickly directed, masterfully edited, solidly acted by its leads and supporting cast and provides an hour and a half of instantly forgettable entertainment. Expect a remake starring Liam Neeson within the next ten minutes.

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Tesco Entertainment Website Becomes First To Recognise The Genius Of David Mitton

Quite right too. The Thomas The Tank Engine & Friends episode 'Percy And The Haunted Mine' beats the shit out of Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil.

Friday, 10 June 2011

Look How Much The Harry Potter Stars Have Changed!

Now that Harry Potter's ten-year journey through the box office is almost at an end, it's time to look back at some of the cast and marvel at how completely different they all looked a decade ago when they were fresh-faced, innocent young squits with an epic adventure before them. It really is amazing what a difference ten years makes!

John Hurt (Mr Ollivander)

Alan Rickman (Severus Snape)

Maggie Smith (Minerva McGonagall)

Julie Walters (Molly Weasley)

David Bradley (Argus Filch)

Richard Harris (Albus Dumbledore)
Bless 'em. Weren't they cute?

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

I'm Sure I've Seen The New Super 8 Poster Before

A new poster for JJ Abrams' forthcoming better-be-brilliant-or-else Super 8 hit the nets earlier, causing small tremors in the nethers of geeks everywhere.

The primary reason for this trouser-troubling was that the poster has deliberately been designed to evoke the great work of Drew Struzan, trading off his connection with the 1980s hits that Super 8 seems to be shamelessly emulating, only with one billion percent more lens flare:
There was even mention that perhaps the great Mr Struzan himself had come out of retirement to do this poster, but upon closer inspection it seems fairly clear that he hasn't. The odd composition, not-quite-good-enough drawings and lack of The Struze's signature pretty much give the game away.

There's definitely something familiar about it though, and that something becomes painfully clear if you watch the trailer. Because every single element in this poster appears in the trailer in exactly the same pose, as if somebody's watched it, paused it every few seconds, printed out a bunch of screen grabs, fed them into a Struzomatic 5000 and produced the finished artwork. Here's the poster again, with those screen grabs plonked on top:
I don't know about you but I feel used, cheated and dirty.

A Photo From Yesterday's Post, Vertically And Horizontally Inverted And Cut Out In The Shape Of The Sun

Apologies if this ruins every subsequent viewing of GoldenEye for you.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

RIP Pierce Brosnan's Career, 1980-2010

Some time ago, I wrote a sad lament to the post-Bond career of Pierce Brosnan. You can read it if you enjoy wallowing in another man's pathetic misery, but the basic gist of it was that it seems like a tragic waste of a great man's talents that he keeps appearing in utter shit (barring the magnificent Mamma Mia!, obviously*). I suppose he was quite good in The Ghost, but that wasn't enough to save it from being ponderous and preposterous claptrap.

Fortunately it appears that he's no longer attached to the abominably-titled Vanilla Gorilla, so, in the hope that The Incredible Suit has the power to remove The Broz from potentially abysmal projects simply by mentioning them, here's what we can look forward to enduring him in over the coming months:

Salvation Boulevard

Brozzer plays an evangelical pastor who inadvertently but hilariously kills someone, MASSIVE LOL. He's made a half-hearted attempt at growing a beard (No BrozBeard will ever beat Die Another Day's) which makes him look like some sick Alec Baldwin / Matthew Kelly hybrid, and he's doing the voice of David Bowie struggling with a particularly stubborn poo.
Nails In The Career Coffin:

Johnny English Reborn

P-Bro appears in the world's least-wanted sequel as "Ambrose". Little is known about the character, but here's an educated guess: he's a British agent sending himself up with all the dignity that Roger Moore displayed when he played himself in The Cannonball Run, and he either gets killed in the first five minutes or turns out to be the villain in a twist that literally nobody will see coming because literally nobody will see the film at all.
Nails In The Career Coffin:

I Don't Know How She Does It

The Brosnatron plays a high-powered businessman (the only role he's played more often than Bond) in Sex And The City 3 this atrocious-looking rom-com starring Sarah Jessica Parker in a role that even Jennifer Aniston would turn her carefully-sculpted nose up at these days. A shot in the trailer shows Brozbox giving SJP a double high-five, which makes me cry. Another shows him holding a Martini glass, and I just know that that Martini's stirred, which just makes it worse.
Nails In The Career Coffin:

St. Vincent
Brosnasaurus Rex plays a hitman (called Vincent) who goes undercover as a priest (IT'S CALLED ST. VINCENT, YEAH?) in order to get closer to his next target. As far as I can tell it's not a comedy, thank Christ, because it could easily turn into Nuns On The Run 2. The prospect of Brozzapalozza playing a bastard is always tasty, but St. Vincent is directed by Walter Hill, whose own career post-Alien is hardly comforting for anyone hoping for a Brosnan renaissance. A Brosnaissance, if you will. (You won't)
Nails In The Career Coffin:

All You Need Is Love
The Wizard Of Broz stars in ANOTHER FUCKING ROM-COM, presumably because he's just right for the part and not because the producers hope he'll pull in a few extra jaded punters still nursing a rapidly-dwindling desire to see one of the world's most watchable actors make a barely-watchable film.
Nails In The Career Coffin:

So that's The Brozfather's career's coffin pretty much nailed shut. Our next subject is Mr Daniel Craig; The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo had better not be a rom com.

*I bet you thought this would be where I explained that that was a joke. Well you thought wrong.