"Pride and Prejudice", after all of the hype and expectation I had going into it, was well, well worth the wait. I found myself enjoying it an awful lot despite the lack of tits, violence and Jean-Claude Van Damme.
Lizzie, at times a strong independent woman and at others a complete fucking tool (You know, like a well-developed character), is an unmarried woman with four unmarried sisters. You know, the equivalent of a neighbour who plays drum and bass and strangled a teenager in a bar fight in this period. She meets another total fucking tool named Darcy, whose toolness may be a charade...
Why am I telling you this? Everybody knows the plot.
That Wickham fellow was a total fucking pleb, one who I would never tire of seeing stuffed into a fridge and molested by a marauding gang of horny badgers. Further proof, if ever any were needed, that less is often more in terms of villains. That he ended up with Lydia (SPOILERS) was comeuppance enough however, that girl seemed to be playing STD bingo and trying to find new fresh ways to infuriate me. It was intentional, however, so I'll let it slide, especially since she's fucked over that fuck-stick Wickham for life.
That Mary remained single is a travesty of the highest order, tempered only somewhat by Mr Bennet being one of the greatest dads ever conceived, and a true saint of the highest order. How he put up with Alison Steadman (playing the same character from "Abigail's Party", but run through the mill of 19th century Chav) without burning down the entire county is nothing short of a miracle.
Alison Steadman is a national treasure.
David Bamber also needs more work. Mr Collins was a sleazy, oily, limp-wristed delight. Viewed as a "Rome" sequel or "Psychoville" prequel, his character makes even more sense.
...
So, it was pretty good I guess.
No comments:
Post a Comment