Oh Yeh, I Am The Prodigal Son

So last night, Kris, Steve, Abi and I left school, and ran all the way to Staines, where we were joined by an Emma for mucho eatingnesses (I owe everyone a million squids) and watchings of les films.

We saw the "masterpiece" that is Brokeback Mountain.

I have three words for you:

Trite, sensationalist CRAP.

And I proceeded to shout that in the foyer when the film had ended.

Let's face it, the only reason anyone would go to see this film is because we get to see two (extremely and incredibly) fit men making babies (or at least attempting this, loudly and with many moanings and groanings). Strike one. Any film that only entices people because of the actors in it immediately should be stamped on, bitten or deported to your mum. Would anyone have gone to see it if the two protagonists had been Richard E. Grant and Abe Vigoda? Sincerely doubtful. Having said that, I, myself, only went to see it because I have a crush on Mr. "I'm fit" Ledger. And he was a bit naked in it. Mmm.

Secondly, the bum sex scenes were quite shocking - yes, the many moanings and groanings - meaning that both Abi and I absolutely died of laughter. No jokes. I think even Kris thought that bit was funny. And it was. Very, very funny. Perhaps the film should have carried a warning: Do not attempt to view this film without prior knowledge of mature enough emotions to be able to think that bum sex is, uh, inspiring, and mindblowing. Yes. Indeed.

Thirdly, the main character was called Anus. Well, that's a lie - it was Ennis, but it took me quite a while to figure that out. Actually, I think the film would have been better had ol' Heathy been called Anus. Hell yes. If I ever write a film about gay cowboys, the main character will DEFINITELY be called Anus. Or perhaps Mr. Crack. Who knows.

Fourthly, there were about 6 scenes that did not need to be included. Example: why did they have the TV turning on and off scene? Was it just to show that the Donnie Darko man was now the proud owner of a Village People stylee moustache? Or to prove that the Princess Diaries lady does, in fact, still look good with big, curly Dolly Parton blonde hair?

Fifthly, it took forty five hours to start. I did actually like the introductiony bit, with all the silence, and the cowboy hats, and passing train shots, but it didn't need to go on for a million years. It was slightly sleep inducing, really. But never mind.

Sixthly (yes, I really did not like this film), IT WAS A FILM ABOUT GAY COWBOYS. COWBOYS THAT ARE GAY. AND THAT FROLIC IN FIELDS WITH SHEEP. AND BEARS. AND HORSES. AND HAVE BUM SEX IN TENTS. WHILST LETTING WOLF THINGS EAT THEIR SHEEP. IT'S JUST NOT A MINDBLOWING, INSPIRING CONCEPT. SO PARDON ME IF I AM NOT MATURE ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WOULD ENJOY A FILM SUCH AS THIS.

Phew.

Still, I'm glad I saw it. So that I can rant, and mock those who cried during the "sad" bits. "You don't know how hard it is for me. I miss you so much, can't we live in a ranch on a hill? CAN'T WE BE PROPER AND OPEN HOMOSEXUALISTS?" Beautiful. Truly moving. Etc. Etc.

OK, I'm going to stop now, before Steve and Kris bludgeon me to death.

Talking of gays, tonight, I'm going to see Stalker in his panto. Oh how fun that will be. Yes indeed. With his NEW GIRLFRIEND. Grin grin. Cat and Stalker, sitting in a tree. Apparently, though, she's not allowed to call him Stalker. Har.

Ah well, see y'all soon. Babes.