Daily Archives: December 11, 2009

Lustbox: Robert Downey Jnr. Naughty but nice

I’ve just noticed that there’s a Sherlock Holmes film coming out on Boxing Day starring Robert Downey Jnr. I’ll save that for myself to unwrap as a delicious belated Christmas present. I don’t give a stuff about Sherlock Holmes, I can’t stand Guy Ritchie, who is directing, and I’m extremely ambivalent about Jude Law (pretty, yes, total twat, also yes) who is playing Watson (yes Arthur Conan Doyle, you should be spinning in your grave with all your little *fairy friends –they seem to have severely sexed up your Holmes and Watson), but I’d travel quite some distance to see Robert Downey Jnr.

He has not led a blameless life, in many ways he’s really rather a naughty boy, but he has a magnificently wicked twinkle in his eye and he brings something fabulous to any film he’s in  – Wonder Boys and Ironman are just two examples. And when he joined the cast of the increasingly lame Ali McBeal TV series, it was a stroke of genius. He added sharp, humorous fairy dust to Calista Flockhart’s tedious, fey narcissistic shtick. The only thing I struggled with were his protestations of overwhelming lust for her. Didn’t wash. She’s a bloody stick insect, especially with a supporting cast that included the minxy and utterly gorgeous Lucy Liu.

One thing I’d like to know though. What does Robert Downey Senior look like?

*I’m not being homophobic here, Conan Doyle lost a great deal of public credibility after revealing that he believed in fairies

 

Posted by Inkface

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Gavin & Stacey: I don’t know if it’s nice, but I like it

Rather gawky, and completely spaced-out; nonetheless, Deano stole this week’s episode. I don’t remember him being in it before, but what a fine addition he was. In a show which is running the third-series risk of becoming too predictable, everything Deano said was a surprise. Pam offered him tea or coffee, and he asked for ‘half-and-half’, which meant tea and coffee in the same mug. Mick, always urbane, asked him if it was nice, to which he replied, with great honesty, ‘I don’t know if it’s nice, Mick. I like it.’

When introduced to Gwen on a lad’s outing to Barry (number three in increasingly desperate storylines to bring everyone together), Deano spoke in fluent Welsh, though Gwen doesn’t speak it herself. Bless him, he’d been on an intensive Welsh course to prepare for the trip. Few more chaps like him around and there would be no wars. He did very well, actually. I learned Welsh for nearly a year, and all I could say was, ‘dim licio rhaglenni pop’ (‘I don’t like pop programmes’). It would come in handy if I ever discussed the X Factor – briefly – with someone Welsh.

Anyway, despite poor Deano’s smooth Welsh he still lost out on the girl to the handsome Fingers. Admittedly Fingers and the girl (my addled memory has misplaced her name), had already shagged at Gavin and Stacey’s wedding, and there was a lovely moment when Deano asked angrily if they knew each other and they shared a secret smile. Meanwhile Bryn, in entirely appropriate scout-leader shirt and tie, was in his suppressed homosexual element, with all the lads crashing round his place. Like the girl with no name, Bryn liked Fingers best, we could tell from the way he hugged him. Bryn is a sucker for a good-looking lad of colour. I love that he had prepared his house as a bachelor heaven, including putting out a subbuteo table and sticking a page three pin-up on the wall. But the funniest throw-away scene was of one of the boys, sitting happily in the middle of the living room with his feet in a foot-spa. Bryn sure knows how to lay on a good time.

They all went clubbing in Cardiff, and there was some tedious business with Stacey thinking she was pregnant but not being; only redeemed right at the end by her revealing she’d actually been trying to get pregnant all year. How many more of her batty schemes can Gav forgive? If it’s not five fiancés or insisting on moving back to Barry, it’s lying about being on the Pill. About time Gav had a little break-out behaviour of his own, I reckon.

I enjoyed Smithy’s freak-out over Nessa texting him. It never, quite, tipped over into self-parody, and was nicely revealing of Smithy’s inner struggles. In particular, the scene where Smithy got a throat-hold on poor old Owain and insisted on reading him the text (‘Hope you’re all right’ it said, in its entirety), was a joy. I laughed out loud, for the first time this series, when Smithy, clutching Owain to his considerable bosom, said drunkenly to Gav, ‘He’s more a friend to me than you’ve ever been’. Smithy had only just met Owain that minute. It reminded me of many a crazy night I’ve had in Cardiff, except, thanks to Deano, there was considerably more Welsh spoken than usual.

Posted by Qwerty

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