For reasons that will hopefully make sense one day, I voluntarily watched "Glorious 39" at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) last Wednesday. The nicest thing I can say about the film is probably also the biggest insult - it was extremely funny. This is horrible to say, so if you liked this film please avert your eyes lest I insult you - 'Glorious 39' is a stupid film about stupid people doing stupid things such as walking past hundreds of artfully arranged bags of dead cats. Yes, you read that correctly.
If you're a fan of obvious film clichés, this is definitely the film for you. My friend and I lost count at 11 hilarious clichés, yet I'm sure we were laughing so hard that we missed a couple more. Also, the director was so wildly enamoured of Romola Garai's considerable cleavage that he rarely missed an opportunity to showcase the crowning glory of her lovely figure. If this dreadful film is ever released, Romola's breasts should be given star billing and a Screen Actor's Guild membership card(s). It's only fair.
One of the saddest aspects of this experience was the knowledge that TIFF's director, Piers Handling, selected and introduced this film. His credibility has fallen precipitously in the last few years, yet with his endorsement of this miserable waste of celluloid I now regard him as a cinematic "persona non grata". Harsh words, yet if you have the misfortune of seeing this film you might be inspired to say something even more scabrous.
On a positive note, the decision to screen this wretched film at the breathtakingly gorgeous Elgin theatre was truly inspired. There - I said something nice!
1 star out of 10 (1/10) for making us laugh in all the wrong places.
If you're a fan of obvious film clichés, this is definitely the film for you. My friend and I lost count at 11 hilarious clichés, yet I'm sure we were laughing so hard that we missed a couple more. Also, the director was so wildly enamoured of Romola Garai's considerable cleavage that he rarely missed an opportunity to showcase the crowning glory of her lovely figure. If this dreadful film is ever released, Romola's breasts should be given star billing and a Screen Actor's Guild membership card(s). It's only fair.
One of the saddest aspects of this experience was the knowledge that TIFF's director, Piers Handling, selected and introduced this film. His credibility has fallen precipitously in the last few years, yet with his endorsement of this miserable waste of celluloid I now regard him as a cinematic "persona non grata". Harsh words, yet if you have the misfortune of seeing this film you might be inspired to say something even more scabrous.
On a positive note, the decision to screen this wretched film at the breathtakingly gorgeous Elgin theatre was truly inspired. There - I said something nice!
1 star out of 10 (1/10) for making us laugh in all the wrong places.