Now, I wasn’t expecting a work of cinematic genius. I’d read some reviews. I knew it wasn’t going to be bad, but in reality it was really, really awful.
Apparantly the Macedonians all had Irish accents. One can only presume that Colin Farrell wasn’t up to a neutral accent so evryone else had to fit around him. I kept expecting Brendan Gleeson to pop up. The accents made it hard to suspend disbelief, which would have been a useful skill for accepting Angelina Jolie (age 29) as Colin Farrell’s (age 28) mother. I like Angelina usually, but she wasn’t right for the job.
The movie didn’t shy away from the gay thing, which could have been a redeeming feature, except that they were so self conscious about it it was cringeworthy. Like an uncle trying to be down with the kids. I wouldn’t have been suprised if Aristotle had turned to face the camera to speak to the audience: “Yes, I’m talking about the man love you know.” I almost wish I’d been in the cinema to see how it played with Irish teenage audiences. Still, at least that part was historically accurate. Better than Troy’s “He’s my cousin. We’re cousins. Yes, I love him, it’s because he’s my cousin. Cousin.”
The storyline was all over the place, it kept jumping forwards and backwards in time, the length of Colin’s ridiculous hair the only guide to whre you were. Oh, and a note that I presume only relates to the directors cut: My weekend would have been just dandy without the shot of Colin’s testicles.
My final comments on the film: My, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Jared Leto are pretty. If only I was a gay man. Or their cousin…