Well, as I've lost my voice utterly and completely now, and can do no more than whisper hoarsly and gesticulate, and as it's been astoundingly hot and really quite uncomfortable even in the shade (quite contrary to my prediction this morning), Kate and I did the only thing we could possibly do. We went to see Pirates of the Caribbean.
I cannot explain what a wonderous thing it was to walk into that air-conditioned cinema out of the blazing, searing sun.
Nor can I adequately explain what a wonderous thing it is to see Johnny Depp with eyeliner on and sporting the most perfect saaf lundun accent. I wasn't expecting much from the film, just a lot of swashing and buckling, and whilst it's true that Pirates of the Caribbean does indeed contain much swashing and buckling, I have to say that it really is one of the best yarns I've seen spun this year.
The sword fights were beautifully choreographed and timed, the clashing of steel punctuating the score quite marvellously. CGI was great – the whole going in to and out of the moon bit was fantastic. And I did like Orlando Bloom… But Mr Depp stole pretty much every scene he was in with that half-drunken slur and mad glint in his eye. Not to mention the beads, the gold teeth and those tight leather trousers. (Whether or not he actually wore any tight leather trousers during the course of that film doesn't actually matter. I can't remember noticing, although that may be because I couldn't see through the rising flood of drool.)
There were barely a half dozen of us in the cinema (everyone else, I presume, was out at the beach getting sunstroke), yet still I managed to be sat in front of the Brat from Hell who insisted in kicking the chair back at every possible opportunity. Bratling. Still, I will certainly have to go and see Pirates of the Caribbean again as soon as I get the chance and my voice back, if only to to be able to guffaw properly, rather than in the half-arsed hoarse way I could only manage today.
Once Kate and I had managed to crawl our way home without becoming undistinguishable from a small piece of charcoal, we decided that the best trick would be to watch more films. I can't talk anyway, so having any sort of conversation is just too painful and experience (for me, literally as talking rips my larynx to shreds, and for Kate the effort of trying to understand what fuck I'm trying to say with my arm waving and mouthing is tiring and not particularly illuminating).
So we watched Dogma, which I'd not seen before. More hoarse guffawing. I do quite like that film – although a few points did confuse me. Firstly, wasn't Loki a Norse God rather than a Christian angel? And why the fuck did they cast Alannis Morrissbloodyette? She makes a particularly irritating and smug God. Nevertheless, I did quite like it. Had some real laugh out loud moments, good writing, and not a little fun at the expense of the Catholic Church, which is always good in my book.
Hell, any fun had at the expense of any church is good in my book.
Finally, to round of the evening was The Dish, a great Australian film about the role played by the Parkes Satellite Dish in the Apollo 11 moon landing. Absolutely fantastic film. I love Australian films anyway – Muriel's Wedding, Strictly Ballroom etc. I think I come pre-Australianised, having lived there for a year and having family over there. I really do get their sense of humour. And The Dish is one of the funniest films I've seen in a long time. Just beautifully written, with some really subtle lines in there that you could easily miss if you weren't paying attention.
I have to say, though, that all that laughing has played havoc with my throat. It feels like I've swallowed a cactus. Not so good.
Anyways, I am now feeling all inspired, and can't quite wait to get home tomorrow so that I can rewrite Act 2 of my screenplay. One day, that will be my name up on the credits next to the words 'screenplay by…'. 😉
