Bumper Christmas Special (this one goes out the SLOVENES!)

Dearests…it’s been FAR too long for my liking. My Slovenian fan base is up in arms, I’m sure!

Following months of poverty, I embarked on a punishing yet financially rewarding work schedule which has allowed me to indulge in my greatest vices: cinema and cheap European lager. HURRAH!

Firstly, a mention must be given to Woody Allen’s latest ‘Blue Jasmine’ which continues to grace British cinemas with alacrity. Woody Allen is always controversial. Most people believe this to be due to the Mia Farrow scandal whereas I am inclined to believe in Larry David’s concept that he is, in fact, chastised for his baldness. Nevertheless ‘Blue Jasmine’ is extremely enjoyable. I believe that his true “return to form” occurred with ‘Whatever Works’ and that ‘Midnight in Paris’ was on the verge of bollocks. ‘To Rome With Love’ was truly awful but saved by beautiful scenes of the eternal city. Anyway…I digress. ‘Blue Jasmine’ tells the story of a New York socialite who’s fallen on hard times following revelations of her fraudster husband’s infidelities and Ponzi-scheming. She moves in with her sister in San Francisco, drinks her body weight in vodka and spouts excellent life advice (“Tip big, boys! TIP BIG!”) Blanchett is truly excellent as Jasmine and if she wins the Oscar, I would be totally in agreement. The rest of the cast is also superb (yes, GB reigns supreme!). Despite Allen’s insistence that the parallels between ‘Jasmine’ and ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ had never entered his mind, I beg to differ. Blanchett certainly makes a great modern-day Blanche filled with melodrama, crisis and hysteria. I just hope that future offerings from Allen can continue in this vein rather than returning to the truly awful European vehicles which just didn’t work.

Next, ‘Le Weekend’. What can I say? Great performances from Lindsay Duncan, Jim Broadbent and Jeff Goldblum but please do not go and see this film if you’re looking for some feel-good Britcom. The script is edgy and uneasy; the characters are clearly in crisis but the resolution is not evident. Duncan’s character is particularly difficult. The characters seek comforting nostalgia for their youthful trips to Paris, but all that they experience are further worries and regrets. This does not mean to say that there aren’t some hilarious moments. The chemistry between Broadbent and Duncan is perfect, providing them with a certain ease in delivery. Goldblum is also great as the self-obsessed, successful American abroad who has left the responsibilities of his wife and children at home to explore his faux-bohemian fantasies. We’ve all been there, darling…

Julia and the late, great James Gandolfini deserve a shout out for ‘Enough Said’. It won’t change cinema but still very pleasant viewing and great to see these two fantastic actors on the same screen. I was also lucky enough to get a ticket to Asghar Farhadi’s latest offering ‘Le Passe’ – truly stunning, a great set of performances with an intriguing story.

Cinematically the offerings of the past few month have brought a whiff of “all mouth and no trousers” – in one case quite literally with the monumental bollocks that was ‘Blue is the warmest colour’…let me point out (in a friendly manner) to the writers, directors, producers and, above all, actors of this film that if I had wished to bore my way through three hours of “messy eating” (I am, of course, referring to the consumption of spaghetti), I could have paid some choice looking birds from the Rue Saint Denis. To put it plainly: the acting was shite, the plot was thin at best and made no sense whatsoever. It is rare that I go to a film and feel truly robbed of my money but this film was an exception. 

Thank goodness that this was not the case for the surprise critical hit ‘Gloria’ – a rare Chilean appearance on the London scene. Hilarious, banging soundtrack (LANCA PERFUME!!) and an original take on being middle-aged – who could ask for anything more?

Best of the festive…

The Artist and the ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

Last Thursday I enjoyed a prized day off from selling shite over the telephone by bathing in some of London’s cultural splendour…’A Doll’s House’ in the afternoon which was simply breath-taking. Why have we never heard of this bird (Hattie Morahan) before??? SHE’S SPECTACULAR!! The production is so brilliant it made my eyes water AND I got a seat upgrade – all in all, a magnificent afternoon.

However, all of this wonder took place BEFORE a box office employee prized my precious £11.50 for the royal snooze-fest otherwise known as ‘The artist and the model’. I had many reasons for going to see this film – I thoroughly enjoyed Trueba’s last film ‘Chico and Rita’ and I like the idea of putting two of my all-time favourite battleaxes/sirens of yesteryear on the same screen. I am, of course, referring to Claudia Cardinale and Chus Lampreave who were completely misused and mis-cast in this film. I mean, Chus didn’t have any one-liners, was barely comprehensible in French and did not manage to sufficiently berate the young cast member in the film who was, for the record, shite. I was also highly distracted by Claudia’s fake, drawn-on eyebrows but was relieved to see that she has not gone down the Bardot/Deneuve/Loren plastic surgery road...

The “plot” unravels in this enthralling fashion: Chus and Claudia spot a young bird who looks like she could do with a good “douche”. They take her back to their “maison” and give her a plate of dog’s arseholes soup (or whatever was popular during the war years in the Pyrenees) During this charming repast, La Cardinale tells the young bird that she should try being a life model for her aged husband who is a sculptor. She, of course, accepts and promptly gets her kits off while he creates some banging masterpieces. Trust me, this description is far more interesting than the actual film despite the beauty of the images which, along with presence of aforementioned battleaxes, is the only reason to go and see this film. Unfortunately, these three factors cannot sustain this film. The dialogue is weak and mannered and, although it pains me to say it, the performances are just not up to scratch. I hope that these two dames are provided with vehicles worthy of their talent in their next ventures.

La grande, grande, GRANDE bellezza!!

The last few weeks have been a little slim on releases considering that, despite appearances and my current financial situation, I am not a young satchel-carrier on school holidays. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed ‘The Heat’ – the perfect combination of kick ass “betches”, Bostonians and colourful swearing.

Venice and Toronto have provided some promising fare for the forthcoming cinematic year. I will certainly be at the head of the queue for ’12 Years A Slave’ (an intern’s memoir), ‘The Double’ and ‘Sunshine On Leith’ (Life and times of an Edinburgh pusher) – I can’t wait!

Now: to the good stuff. Few directors get me as excited as Paolo Sorrentino (cinematically speaking, of course…it’s not that kind of blog) and so when I heard that he and Toni “Big Tone” Servillo had a new collaboration I almost got on a flight to Italy just to see it as I feared that the U.K. distributors would probably not get their act together until 2015 as per usual. Luckily we only had to wait four months for this cinematic feast and it was certainly worth the wait.

It tells the story of the self-confessed “King of High Society” Gep Gambardella, a journalist who has been at the heart of the decadent Roman party scene for longer that he can remember. Yet he finds himself in the midst of a crisis following the death of a girl who he had once loved. He is surrounded by every sort of beauty. Whether it be the splendour of room, the innocence of his first love or the perceived beauty of the vogue for plastic surgery which has become a badge of honour for those who have fallen victim to the superficial materialism and numbness of the Berlusconi era. One of the greatest scenes of the film is an immense party scene so alive with music and movement that it gave the spectator the impression of being part of the party. (FYI - Big Tone does a cracking Carra` impersonation…)

The camera swoops through Gambardella’s Rome in all of its splendour as if it were a bird in flight yet the reminders of the toxic mentality which has destroyed all that Italy, and therefore possibly Gep, once held dear is never far away; the mysterious and phenomenally wealthy neighbour who is found out to be one of the country’s most wanted criminals, the dank strip clubs which illuminate the kitch former glory of the Via Veneto and the hilarious observations of “cross culture” which seamlessly team Proust and reality TV as potential collaborators. As opposed to much of the, excuse the term, “shit that floats to the top” of current Italian cinema, the members of Sorrentino’s cast are fantastic. 

Many critics have displayed a tremendous lack of originality in naming the film “Fellinian” or some such label which is easily thrown around when a promising Italian film maker appears, in the same way that a French one would be likened to Truffaut or Godard. I abhor this practice generally as I feel that it is a) lazy and b) a really cheap way to strip the director/writer/actor/singer/dancer of their own talent and originality which almost certainly will take past masters into account but will not have at the heart of their project the intention to specifically create a project according to the rules of one of these other artists.

It is a film which takes time to get over. I think I will see it again at the cinema, where it was intended. 

Bangkok - think before you book

My bowel is still on edge after seeing Nicolas Winding Refn's latest offering, the much anticipated 'Only God Forgives'. I like to think I can stomach film violence. I'm a big Scorsese fan, I've sat through quite a few of Tarantino's offerings and have watched more mafia drama than I've had hot dinners yet all of the dead bodies in the fridge/acid dunkings in the world could not have prepared me for the 90 minute bloodbath I was about to witness. Brief plot outline: Bang-cock. Gosser’s brother rapes and murders a 16 year old prozzie (welcome to Thailand!) and is, in turn, beaten to a pulp by girl’s father (revenge, innit blad) Gosser’s mother descends on Bang-cock to pick up the body and encourage another revenge hit on girl’s father. Lots of blood, freaky swords, karaoke, dodgy locales, fried food, fags.

It’s a big coup for Gosser’s Tossers as he is superb – in fact, they’re ALL superb! Kristen Scott Thomas royally sticks two fingers up to the Franco-English bellends who continue to typecast her as a) Upper class bitch b) Foreign housewife with a penchant for ménage-a-trois/homewrecking/fags (with the exception of Minghella’s masterpiece ‘The English Patient’, Canet’s ‘Ne le dis a personne’ and Claudel’s ‘Il y a longtemps que je t’aime’ in which her acting chops are allowed to let rip). In OGF, she plays a wealthy drugs moll who has spawned two twisted arseholes, one of whom has paedophilic tendencies and the other who specialises in long looks and silence. In possibly the most talked about scene of the film, the mother reveals to the prostitute (?) companion of Gossers that his brother was the far better endowed of the pair in the underpants department. Hilarious and only slightly awkward at best. The only problem is the thin plot and laughable scenes of dodgy prozzies and improvised karaoke-for-killers.

The shots are beautiful and complex, like magnificent photographs. The use of colour scheme is also inspired, evoking a real sense of the squalid yet wealthy world in which these characters operate. If you do go, make sure you see it at the cinema as I think that the small screen (iphone?? WHAT!!!) will just not quite do it justice. I can understand why people hate it – the violence is truly gratuitous and maybe there’s a little too much style over substance. Half the audience at the cinema we went to left! See it for Scott Thomas and Gosling if nothing else, they are both superb.  

Frances Ha...rdly any plot

Dearest readers, it’s been a while...I know that this has, of course, created a gaping hole in your cinematic existences and for that I apologise profusely! In case you were not aware, Britain has been experiencing some serious heat for the first time in living memory and I felt it would be a crime to miss out on it in favour of Sofia Coppola’s latest, potentially disappointing offering (Emma Watson? Paris Hilton’s dog?? PUR-LEASE!!!)

or a documentary that my friend managed to sleep through (although this fact alone is quite a mystery as the documentary in question was ‘The Act of Killing’ which looks pretty immense…) I have taken this opportunity to catch up on some classics that have passed me by over the years including Wong Kar Wai’s exquisite story of longing and heartbreak ‘In The Mood For Love’. I was completely enchanted by it. I watched it three times within the space of a day; the costumes, glances, unbearable, sticky humidity and the great use of the magnificent Nat King Cole soundtrack all blend to create a film of extreme beauty and unforgettable images. It leaves the audience longing, wondering what will happen to these two characters. It also provides a window into Chinese society at that time, something of which I am, unfortunately, totally ignorant.

This Monday, by some stroke of luck, the London sky was looking a little peaky and I could justify going to the cinema TWICE! How marvellous! First, ‘Frances  Ha’ then ‘Dial ‘M’ For Murder’ in 3D. Hitchcock, thank God, is Hitchcock, thus making it impossible for this 3D to be a complete turkey. The detail and brilliant colour certainly made it worth it, above all in the opening scenes as Grace Kelly’s adulterous ways are revealed. The change to 3D didn’t feel gimmicky, having said this I am still not a fan. The only other thing I have seen in 3D was Wim Wender’s excellent documentary on Pina Bausch which used 3D to its greatest extent, bringing to life the strange and wonderful world of Wupperthal. I must admit that I was unfamiliar with ‘Dial ‘M’’ before the other evening and thoroughly enjoyed every moment – it truly is a pleasure to see Hitchcock on the big screen.

If only I could say the same for dear Frances…I had been cynical and dismissive of the trailer and general buzz surrounding the film and its star, Greta Gerwig. All we need is another feckin so-called homage to the bloody French New Wave; the quirky blonde with unkempt hair but a free spirit which will save her from her supposed material poverty, etc, etc.

I can’t quite describe what I felt as I left the cinema. It was a mixture of confusion, gentle comfort at the wonderful images of New York and a sense of mild envy and contempt at the success of such total mediocrity in cinema. Whilst I more than sympathise with the protagonist’s predicament, (i.e. stringing along a selection of crappy jobs in order to succeed in you chosen field) and the daytime recourse to alcohol, I found the characters surrounding the character of Frances profoundly annoying and vacuous. I really cannot understand why Baumbach and Gerwig feel that these city brats merit even more coverage than they already receive in our day-to-day existence. The ambiguous would-like-to-be homosexual relationship between Frances and her best friend Sophie was tedious but could never quite reach the heights of the worst excesses of the pretentious world of modern dance to which Frances intends to dedicate her life’s work. The scenes depicting her status as a “free spirit” will no doubt please the hipster bollocks crowd to which this film is intended but it will take more than a few dodgy plies to win me over.

It has a charm found in the locations used which depict the more comforting elements of the American, cultured middle classes. However, I am thoroughly convinced that when it appears on Film4 in two years’ time at 2am when I am at the peak of my consumption of some beer-flavoured drinks, I will start to verbally abuse my television. I think that Gerwig is a face of our time and certainly has potential but maybe it could be better used in meatier projects.

Onwards and upwards! And the question is: will only God forgive Kristen Scott Thomas’ platinum blonde wig?? 

Mad, Bad and dangerous to know

Ah, Mad Men…after ‘The Sopranos’ it has to be the greatest TV series (drama category) of our modern age. At this point I would also like to take a moment to remember the legendary James Gandolfini. When I heard of his passing, I thought that maybe they had made a mistake (as with the Monica Vitti ‘Le Monde’ incident of 1988)

but, alas, it was not to be. The role of Tony Soprano will rightly stand out as one of the great performances but his other roles must not be forgotten. He brought edge, menace and humour like few others and will be sorely missed.

I digress…Mad Men – sex, specs, and awesome suits with a heart stopping of Canadian Club for good measure. This series really put the emphasis on the aesthetic, arguably more so than in previous seasons. Which does not mean to say that the dialogue suffered…au contraire…special mention must go to the new character, Bob Benson, who successfully managed to maintain an ambiguous chemistry with both Joan and Pete Campbell which is, by no means, an easy feat. 

The inclusion of the offices of General Motors was a welcome diversion from the new look office and California pool and pile scenes. The clothes were, as always, magnificent but, let’s face it, what could Jon Hamm look bad in? I challenge them to pull out a dodgy pair of bell bottoms to test this theory for the final series.

My only criticism would be this fashionable notion of lead actors directing episodes. Whilst it can have brilliant results, I found one of the episodes directed by Roger Stirling himself, Mr John Slattery, to be a little flat and uninteresting. Also the series seemed a little short in comparison, say, to ‘The Good Wife’ which seems bloody never-ending…plus, is it me or do Lockhart/Gardener win EVERY single bloody case?? 

 Alisha Florick: you have a drink problem. Red wine and tequila are the fourth and fifth characters in this series, along with killer "lawyer fashion" and Kalinda's penchant for leather. 

Behind the cunnilingus. Sorry, I meant candelabra.

Douglas, you filthy swine! We’re very happy to see and hear you’re alive and swinging but, please. You’re revelations about your extra-curricular activities were unnecessary…

I’m very happy to say that I finally got round to seeing Steven Soderberg’s much vaunted ‘Behind the candelabra’ with Michael Douglas playing Liberace and Matt Damon as his son/lover/father/brother, Scott Thorson. If you like glitz, glam, gold chains and tinklers of the ivories, you are in for a treat.

I must admit that, unfortunately, I knew little of Liberace before I went to see this film bar his Italian/Polish heritage and his outfits which were only slightly less extraordinary than his talent. Soderberg really plunges the audience right into the heart of Liberace’s private world, shedding light on Liberace’s homosexuality which he never publically acknowledged during his lifetime. The main focus is, of course, on his relationship with Thorson who, at a glance, would appear to be the most significant of all of the relationships he had throughout his life. The film is a sausage fest in every sense with the only female character is presented in the form of Liberace’s mother, Frances, magnificently interpreted by the legendary Debbie Reynolds. If I had not known that she was to play this character before seeing the film, I would not have recognised her at all; the polish accent, make up, hair, prosthetics, mannerisms…quite extraordinary! But this really goes for the whole cast. Whether it’s the main characters, Cheyenne Jackson’s scorned former lover or Rob Lowe’s hilarious turn as Liberace’s plastic surgeon there’s not a weak link.

Douglas is superb and it’s a shame that he will not be eligible for the big awards next year. But, let’s face it, even if you couldn’t give a monkey’s about good acting, it’s worth it just for the hilarious sight of Matt Damon’s white rhinestone posing pouch which did not provoke as much mirth amongst the audience as one would have imagined…Ben Affleck will NEVER let him live that one down!

Behind the chintz lies a very moving love story which was to end tragically through Thorson’s drug abuse and Liberace’s death of AIDs. The film has entertaining moments and is a treat for the eye but it’s not a laugh-a-minute. At the centre of it is the great figure of Liberace and I would stress one thing about him: he was kitch, cheesy and he bloody loved it but, please, never underestimate the talent of this man. 

No Featherbottom, no party

I dedicate this post to the 'Arrested Development' super fans who have not forgotten what a banging series it was (past tense). I was rooting for them. I watched the trailers and followed the voyages of the banana stand and all the nutters who blue themselves to mark the occasion. I even got of my arse and joined Netflix for a month (I'm not paying a penny you bastards!!). Yet, one of the best things to happen to television just didn't quite manage to live up to the brilliance of their three glorious previous series.

From the first episode, you knew it was going to be somewhat clunky. The idea of following individual characters rather than the choral format of the previous series fell slap bang on its arse. I grew to find he character of Michael profoundly annoying, largely because he was taking precious air time away from Lucille, Lucille 2, Gene Parmesan and Buster. The idea to cast Seth Rogan as a young George Sr. was disastrous and frankly seemed like a total waste of money in order to pander to Judd Apatow fans. Kristen Wiig was good as Lucille but, to be honest, I'd have rather seen Jessica Walter in a dodgy 70s wig.

In fact, the general lack of Lucille and Buster was criminal. The greatest scene of the entire series was Buster aiding Lucille to smoke. Enough said, just see it for yourselves! 

Lindsay's foray to India and Tobias' 'Fantastic Four' musical feat. crystal meth were also pretty banging. Big shout out to my new fave ginger (sorry J-Chas) Isla Fisher who made a welcome guest appearance as Ron Howard's daughter and Michael/George Michael's love interest. She was sassy, brassy and totally off her rocker - let's call her a Lucille-light. 

My main beef, the mother of all errors, was the total lack of AD's answer to Mary Poppins, Mrs Featherbottom. I consider her the greatest AD character of them all with such classic lines as: 

It pains me to write this review but I'm still glad we got another chance to enjoy one of the greatest creations TV has ever offered and appreciate this exceptional cast of actors. 

Twitter. Sounds a bit like...

Dearest Non-Spammers (in other words, my relatives and Big Dave) FBH has sold out. Yes, we've joined Shitter and are planning on royally clogging up the immense Shitterscope with day long ramblings on all kinds of film shenanigans so find us on @FilmBeefHash

We're sorry Bibi...we wholly agree with you...

Gatsby? Yes. Great??? My arse.

Following a generous outburst of donated Orange Wednesday tickets (many thanks to all who replied!) I went against all my principles and instincts and went to see ‘The Great Gatsby’. On leaving the cinema, I felt like I’d been slapped in the face with a sequinned, intoxicated fish by an Australian gigolo. The music may have been banging but my analysis is not. It wasn’t so bad as to make me raging mad at having spent my emergency beer fund money but it will still pretty awful. I could have seen ‘The reluctant fundamentalist’ for Christ’s sake! Although given the horrific events of yesterday, maybe it wouldn’t have been the most appropriate choice…

Back to the beef! My main beef with the whole project is: it just doesn’t work. I can see what Luhrmann was trying to do in adapting this classic of American literature for the YouTube generation, but do we really give a shit? It’s a cracking book, great story with phenomenal characters. In other words, a gift and dream for those fortunate enough to be given the opportunity to adapt it for the screen.  The end result leaves one feeling like they’d asked for fine French pastry and had been presented instead with cheap candy floss: empty and thoroughly dissatisfied. The first hour and half of the film is nothing but a bombardment of Disney-style fakery accompanied by wholly inappropriate music, diminishing any sense of the time in which the book is set. The music transforms the film into an incredibly elaborate and expensive fancy dress party, saturated with clichés of this infamous period of decadent American history. The extremely high quality of television offerings of a similar time period such as ‘Boardwalk Empire’ and ‘Mildred Pierce’, both dense, rich portrayals, makes Gatsby seem even more bawdy and cheap than it already is.

 The acting is decent but nothing special, with the exception of Isla Fisher who brings Myrtle to life with exceptional Technicolor vulgarity. ‘Home and Away’ was obviously just an elaborate warm up for this role. DiCaprio is good but not great in this role. He is mostly saved by the figure he cuts in the immense Brooks Brothers suits. Tobey Maguire and Carey Mulligan are both spectacularly annoying – they don’t ever seem to bring anything new to the screen. She’s always a mouse who can’t string a sentence together and, when she does, ends up crying buckets. He is wimpy and dull. Ugh, I’m getting fed-up and angry just thinking about it. Let’s move on…

Cannes, Cannes, Cannes – can anybody get me ticket for next year? If the line-up is anything like this year’s, I’m prepared to offer my services as a red carpet cleaner just to peek through the great doors during the films. Particularly looking forward to the release of Paolo Sorrentino’s ‘La grande bellezza’, ‘Only God Firgives’ (come on, Kristin Scott Thomas as some brassy American bitch in a blonde wig??? Deal breaker!!)...

...Alec Baldwin’s documentary ‘Seduced and abandoned’ and James Grey’s ‘The Immigrant’. Grey is never really talked about but his last film, ‘Two Lovers’, was truly brilliant -  an unusual and deeply moving love story with a fantastic cast which evoked a different side of New York family life. As for Sorrentino, I would give my right arm to work with/for him so please, Paolo, get in touch – I make a very decent pasta con piselli which could be adapted to an industrial scale to feed the crew of your next project. Think about it.

Unfortunately, there aren’t many trailers/preview videos for a lot of the “big boys” at Cannes  but we can expect tonnes of fascinating material to emerge in the forthcoming months – so, Harvs – GET FINANCING B-CLAT!!

I (was) so excited...

So, here I am: piña colada in one hand, crisp and dry in the other - yes, I have arrived at the Festival de Cannes...I may, of course, be following it from the Cote de tosseur (or Bournemouth as it is known in more worldly circles) but still - at least I won't risk running into Brigitte Bardot (who gives children nightmares...)

The main gossip so far (courtesy of Guardian Film - no, not a partner of film/beef/hash#...) is that Baz Lurmann's Gatsby is shite. I could have saved them the Ryanair fare - Carey Mulligan??!! PUR-LEASE!! The trailer alone reduces one of the most fascinating pieces of 20th Century literature to an, admittedly epic, fancy-dress car park rave. I have, of course, yet to see it but to be honest, it's not one I'll run to see. 

Whilst on the subject of disappointments, I went to see 'I'm so excited' last week. It would be fairer to surmise that I was so excited...

I'm a massive Almodovar fan, particularly of his earlier films which are tremendous, pant-wet tingly hilarious affairs with a nice dollop of black humour for good measure. I know they don't appeal to everyone...but to those people I reply - what's not to like? Great dialogue, some of Spain's greatest acting talent, incredible detail and a fantastic eye for colour. He's not afraid to poke fun at any aspect of life and will often turn it around to create extremely moving portraits of family life. 'I'm so excited' was pretty thin in comparison to his other films. The story follows a group of wacky mile-highers on their way to Mexico and the way in which Captain and crew attempt to calm them down when the plane runs into trouble over Toledo leading them to land in the abandoned La Mancha Airport (a mere notch on Spain's list of colossal financial cock-ups) 

It had some funny moments, but not enough to sustain it. Admittedly I missed the first 5 minutes due to a pint of beer, which bothered me. In my defence, it had been a hot day and I had been training in a call-centre, a fact which would justify the consumption of an entire bottle of vodka in my book. Back to the film...there was nothing wrong with the acting but I got the feeling that the dots didn't connect as far as character development and interaction as concerned. I seemed pretty random, even by Almodovar's standards. You never got the feeling that they were travelling in a plane. There was a deep sense of them being trapped in a Madrid studio which had been tarted up to look like a plane. In brief, I wish that I, like the characters, had been high on mescaline as it would have improved this mediocre offering no end. Sorry Pedro. I still love you!