Who Run The World?

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Just a quick meme from me today, with a longer post on this topic later in the week.

This, reposted from @huffpostwomen on Instagram, is just perfect and a very good reminder that there’s enough room in the world for us all.

Sure, sometimes we might need to check ourselves, but as women we should be there to big each other up, encourage and support one another, no matter what.

Again, I sometimes need to take a breath and remember this but it’s very important to me that I live by this mantra. We all should.

💪💋💪💋💪💋

Ravenous (Film) Review

ravenous_santa_poster_exchange_by_radioactive107-d36aqaeI actually managed to get Mr Bass to watch this week’s pick with me, which is virtually unheard of. Usually I wake up early on a Sunday morning and watch by myself.

But we’d both heard good things about this movie and never got round to sitting down to watch it, so Saturday night was a go. All I knew about it was that two actors I like were in it and that it was a black comedy about cannibalism. Where do I sign up, right?

The Film:

Ravenous (1999)

Where to Watch:

US Netflix

The Premise:

Captain John Boyd’s promotion stations him at a fort where a rescued man tells a disturbing tale of cannibalism. (via IMDB)

The Trailer:

Viewable here.

The Uncondensed Version: 

Handsome Captain Boyd (Guy Pearce) comes back from the Mexican-American War something of a hero, though he’s obviously been through the mill and is sickened by what he has seen on his travels. Sadly for him, his Commanding Officer soon finds out that he’s not as hench as first thought, and had actually chickened out in battle. That he finally came through to save the day isn’t enough and, as a punishment dressed up as promotion, Boyd is sent away to a remote fort in the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Personally it looks and sounds like bliss to me, but Boyd doesn’t have time to kick back and think about writing his first novel, as – just as he’s getting to know his seven new roomies – an injured and distressed stranger appears out of nowhere. The stranger (Robert Carlyle), is unconscious when they get to him but it’s nothing a vigorous rub down in front of the fire can’t cure. It’s all quite erotic.

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“Once upon a time…”

When he awakes, naked and wrapped in fur (yey!), the gents (and one lady, Martha) question him. He reveals a bloody thirsty tale of how he came to be on their doorstep.

In short, he and a wagon train of others come undone in the Sierra Nevada (a few days walk from the Fort). They take refuge against the elements in a cave where things turn very bad indeed as they run out of food. Once they’ve chowed down on all the cattle, horses and even Robert Carlyle’s dog, they start on the first member of the party to pop his clogs, beginning with his legs.

Eventually, one party member, a Colonel Ives, takes it too far and starts killing them off one by one, until there are just three left: himself, Robert Carlyle and a woman, the wife of one of the deceased. Robert Carlyle admits to being a pussy right about here and buggers off, leaving the woman. Basically, he’s in such a state because he’s walked day and night until he reached the Fort, where we are now.

The soldiers, including scaredy bum Boyd, see it as their responsibility to find the cave and check for survivors. Even I can see this is a shaky plan but no, they’re good men and so off they trundle. Before they do, however, their Indian guide, George tells them about the Wendigo legend; a myth about how a man consuming the flesh of his enemies takes on their strength but becomes a demon cursed by a hunger for human flesh. Oo-er.

Robert Carlyle insists on travelling with them to show them the cave. Everyone goes except David Arquette (here playing a scholar – jokes, he’s basically Dewey again in cattle hide), another soldier and Martha, George the guide’s elder sister. In fact, David Arquette and Martha have already gone to gather supplies before the men leave.

Off they trot. On the way one the soldiers falls and gets badly injured. In the night he wakes up to Robert Carlyle licking him (worse ways to wake up?). The others decide it would probably be best to restrain Robert Carlyle, who’s acting cray. As they near the cave, he gets more and more spooked.

"Did anyone else see The Descent?"

“Did anyone else see The Descent?”

Boyd and another soldier go into the cave, while the others keep guard outside. They find a well-like hole and the soldier climbs into it. There he finds the usual cannibalistic paraphernalia; crunchy skulls, fibulas, the usual. He then stumbles across a row of rib cages hanging artistically in the background. Of course, he has the good sense to count them (there are supposed to be five as per Robert Carlyle’s story) but there are way more than five and – gasp! – some torn uniform, very much like the blue one the soldiers are wearing…

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Wrong movie, Admiral Ackbar

They run out of the cave where, meanwhile, Robert Carlyle has gone mental and dug out a knife. He kills Colonel Hart (who’s in charge)and George, then chases down the young, injured soldier. Boyd and his mate go after him, where the mate is killed. Boyd exhibits some predictably cowardly behaviour but manages to shoot Robert Carlyle and jump off a cliff, where he lands right next to his friend. Boyd’s broken his leg in a major way and lies there for two nights, deciding what to do. No hurry, Boyd, Robert Carlyle only knows where you live.

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“Do you like my hat, Guy Pearce?”

On his second night at the bottom of the cliff, Boyd gives in and eats his friends leg. The next morning he can actually walk okay and hotfoots it straight back to the ranch. When he arrives, he tells his story to the three remaining housemates and nobody really believes him. The Commanding Officer from before arrives and strongly suggests that Boyd change his story, and admits that he got confused. Boyd refuses.

His superiors decide to bring in a stand-in to replace Colonel Hart (who’s been chomped earlier, remember?) while they figure out what the fudge to do. His name? Colonel Ives… *JAZZ HANDS* – it’s Robert Carlyle again!

"Fancy seeing you here, old chum!"

“Fancy seeing you here, old chum!”

Boyd is in the doghouse now, and Robert Carlyle’s Ives is the model solider, bearing none of the injuries Boyd claims to have inflicted upon him. Robert Carlyle goes to speak to Boyd and explains why he did what he did. He too had been told of the Wendigo myth and since he was on the verge of death with TB, he thought he’d try cannibalism on for size, what the hell, right? It’s obviously worked a charm as Robert Carlyle’s skin is absolutely flawless.

I don’t want to spoil the ending too much but there is a little twist as the rest of the gang end up as dinner. Some horses are killed. Boyd gets blamed for all of it and Martha is sent to get help. Robert Carlyle proposes that they join forces and live together in the fort, picking off travellers selectively as they pass and generally having a high old time. Guy Pearce ain’t 100% on board.

"All this could be ours"

“All this could be ours”

"I DON'T WANNA!"

“I DON’T WANNA!”

There’s a final showdown between Boyd and Robert Carlyle, handily set a tool shed. Will Boyd finally be a brave bunny or will he continue with wet wipe tendencies? Who will win the fight? And will Boyd do as Robert Carlyle advises, which is to, simply, “Eat or die”?

Why don’t you settle down with a nice steak dinner and see for yourselves?

The Critique:

This film was fantastic. It is very dark and gory, pleasingly.

Described as a black comedy, it is subtly funny in places with some decent one liners. Robert Carlyle absolutely relishes his part, or at least it feels that way, which really helps you to like his character. His proposal doesn’t even seem like too much of an ask really, he makes is seem like a logical  move. Guy Pearce isn’t that horrible to look at either, let’s face it.

Some of their scenes together took on a homoerotic tone (in my eyes), which I enjoyed thoroughly. Again, I won’t give away the ending but when the film does climax, our two leading lads share some true intimacy. I guess dining out on your colleagues will really bring a couple closer together.

The music is also really good; a perfect example of using the soundtrack to illustrate true understanding of the film’s tone. It’s not something I usually mention, or notice really, but in contrast to last weeks review, in which I thought the musical choices spoilt the movie, I thought it was worth including. The score is co-written by Damon Albarn, for which he received significant attention.

The Rating:

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4 Happy-go-lucky Doctor Lecters out of 5

 

Pop over to Jillian’s shortly to see what she thought.

All images via Google.

My Week (and a bit) in Pictures – April 09 to 17

Pictures, left to right, top to bottom:

  1. Tropical leafy nails to mark the beautiful Spring weather we’ve been having
  2. An impromptu day date with my love, B
  3. Trying on fabulous glasses at The Specky Wren. I definitely want these!
  4. There’s just something about this Senior Girls doorway
  5. Loving this stag briefcase, by @cassettelord at The Open Market, Brighton
  6. A rogue turnip let loose in our work car park
  7. Beautiful, beautiful Tatty looking chic on our lunchtime break
  8. Great local graffiti at Saunders Park, Brighton. This one is by @radiosradio
  9. I particularly love this piece by @skatinchinchilla
  10. Pineapple and a super 80’s splatter design
  11. My new ring (and friend)
  12. Fringe benefits (definitely time for a trim)

Happy weekend all!

We Could Be Heroes #1: Daisy Steiner (Fictional)

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K.O

Just before I moved to Brighton to follow my own path, I fell in love with a television show called Spaced. It was 1999 and I felt like it was written just for me.

That it became popular, and then pretty much a cult classic later on didn’t matter, back then I thought it was mine. Specifically, I thought Daisy’s character had been written with me in mind. The dufus other half (though not romantically) of Tim Bisley, I wondered how could she exist when she was so similar to me and my friends. Here was a normal woman, who looked normal, dressed eclectically and accidentally threw around the peace sign in job interviews.

Together, Tim and Daisy felt like the voice of my generation: slacker edition.

Today, I still watch Spaced with the glee of a child. The characters are nailed so brilliantly, from chain-smoking Marsha the landlady to Brian the tortured artist and his on-again-off-again love interest, Twist. Mike, Tim’s best friend and would be commando, Tyres – you can’t not love every single last one of them as they bumble through life, job searches, dole offices, petty rivalries and affairs of the heart, by way of club nights and street fights.

Yep. Me too.

Yep. Me too.

But Daisy Steiner. What is there to say? From the moment she bustled into that greasy spoon and bonded with Bisley over the accommodation section of the local paper, it was love. Not for them, mind but for the rest of us. As they convinced Marsha they were a professional couple in order to secure the keys to her downstairs flat, a beautiful friendship was born.

Daisy was an aspiring writer with a penchant for procrastination, though she eventually birthed such literary gems as ‘Bogling – is it the new Tango?’ and ‘Winter Skincare – do’s and don’ts’. She was (is) a happy-go-lucky lady-child with the sort of over-enthusiastic nature I can get behind. When Tim’s heart is broken (twice), she’s right there with him and when he’d rather mope, she takes him to the pub.

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:/

But the beauty of Daisy is her tendency to put her foot right in it. Social interaction isn’t always the most successful as she likes to waffle and just loves to get involved in other people’s business, mainly so she doesn’t have to do any work. In short, she’s a more extreme version of me, though can’t we all see a little of ourselves in Daisy?

It’s easy to forget what the nineties was like for TV, but a brief flashback reminds me that this was probably the first time something like Spaced appeared. It showcased superb comedy writing (by Simon Pegg and Jessica Hynes née Stevenson), contained references to films and television shows I truly loved and was the antidote to the piles of shit I’d been watching before it.

It was the opposite of serious dramas like Cracker and Band of Gold (which were admittedly brilliant) and a different humour altogether from popular comedies like The Vicar of Dibley and Ab Fab. Spaced was as different as you could get from favourites like The X Files, Twin Peaks (very early 90’s) and my personal favourite, This Life.

So I ate it up and will love it for the rest of my days. It’s quoted daily in our household and how many other households across the country, honestly?

Daisy was best when she was finding herself, getting off with the paper boy, quoting the Spice Girls, rescuing Colin, her beloved miniature Schnauzer, batting away backhanded compliments from her BFF, Twist and bringing out the big guns in bar and street brawls with men in black/culinary school kids. In short, she was always the best.

So to you, dear Daisy, I say; Girl power forever.

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N’aw

We Could Be Heroes is a new series of posts looking a women (and sometimes men) I admire, sometimes fictional, sometimes real.

All images via Google.

On Advertising

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Be fluffy, get laid

I have a morning ritual and it goes a little something like this: roll out of bed at least 20 minutes after Glynn, have a wee, head to the front room with my hula hoop (on a good day) and flick on the TV.

I know this is a horrible habit but like I say, this is my ritual and it’s won’t be changing any time soon. I also like to hula hoop in front of the TV in the colder months and on miserable days. Hey, at least it’s still a workout.

At the moment my morning programmes of choice are: Will & Grace until Happy Endings starts at 7.25, then the end of Made in Chelsea (repeat) once that is done. Again, not something to be proud of, but I like to wake up slowly and other people’s drama while I put my face on isn’t the worst way to do it.

One thing I have noticed of a morning, and maybe throughout day time TV in general, not that I have the opportunity or inclination to indulge, is the steady flow of infomercial goodness. It’s not quite your tin cans being sliced up by kitchen knives as slim as a feather, but we’re heading that way. The biggest difference I can see is that all these adverts have the same thing in common: they’re designed to make us feel bad.

Shocker, innit? I mean, what, advertising geared towards women, making women feel AGAIN like they aren’t good enough? Big shock.

It’s a tale as old as time and it’s knackering me out. I mean, I haven’t got time to worry constantly about blotchy skin, acne, facial hair, fuzzy legs, saggy neck, ageing jaw line, stretch marks and all the flab, all over my body. Do you? Why is all such a big deal and why, oh why can’t we just get on with things, in our own imperfect way? I think I might be done with it.

Which, of course is easy for me to say today, as I’m wearing a pretty dress and the sun is shining. Catch me on an overcast Wednesday when my skin is breaking out, and I’ll be nodding my head in total agreement.

“You’re so right, over-enthusiastic American TV presenter and star of Dancing with the Stars, I can’t take any more awful days because my skin looks so shit. Here’s my credit card number, do what you will as long as you make me desirable and therefore worthy of love!”

Here’s a thought: maybe I should just try to get on with life. Do only the things I love or focus my attention on something useful like, I don’t know, getting a new job? Rather than continuing to sit, worrying about my horrible face. Which I do, I worry about it every single day without fail, even on the pretty dress days.

The truth is, I don’t have the beauty regime to match my morning routine. If I remove my eye makeup at the end of a day, it’s a good day. I wash my face in the shower and sometimes, if I can be arsed, I moisturise with something I bought for the witty name.

I have hairy legs and I rarely shave my pits because ingrown hairs are the thorn in my side. They are painful and unsightly. Far more unsightly that a little bit of cute fluff which is soft and strokeable. Put that in your pipes, infomercials, this girl has fuzzy pits!

I’ve got a bumpy, lined neck too, stretch marks from getting boobs quickly as an adolescent. I’ve got flab for days and hands that are stumpy and starting to look old (GREAT NAILS THOUGH). Sometimes I sport a slightly red chin, have a greasy nose, cellulite a-go-go and my pièce de résistance: a scowl line beneath my fringe that my mother warned me would stick around if I didn’t start smiling more. Despite this massive list of defects, I’m loved (and have a fit husband who has sex with me, willingly). What’s more, I’m happy.

Sometimes I wish for a skinnier tush, who doesn’t? But the fact of the matter is, I worry. We probably all do at some point. I’m trying to love myself more each day and to remember that the perfect ideals foisted upon me (us) by society aren’t the only way. They never were.

So, to all those ads peddling hair removal gadgets/creams and lotions/potions and spells for a younger/smoother/thinner me, I say: not today thank you.

Lizzie Borden Took an Ax (Film) Review

Lizzie-Borden

Happy Sunday/Monday Bad Movie Fun Day! Welcome to the next installment in Jillian & Christa’s Great Blog Collab 2015. I think this might be our seventh outing and I’m enjoying doing them more and more each time.

This week was my pick and it was a hard decision to make. I had a short list of three very different movies and had started to get worried that the films we’ve been reviewing have been too good. Well, with this in mind, and without wanting to give too much away yet, I think this week’s choice may have solved that particular quandary.

So to this week’s straight to TV movie (bypassing even DVD, ouch), starring 90’s pixie Christina Ricci.

The Film: 

Lizzie Borden Took an Ax (2014)

Where to Watch:

US Netflix

The Premise:

The true story of Lizzie Borden, a young woman tried and acquitted in the 1892 murders of her father and stepmother. (via IMDB)

The Trailer:

Viewable here.

The Uncondensed Version: 

Christina Ricci AKA Lizzie B is eating fruit by a window in her nightie. My first thought is how tiny she is. Some maids are pottering about doing chores when Lizzie moves downstairs, enters the parlour on the ground floor, only to discover a man with a mashed up face lying on the couch. Lizzie lets out a blood curdling scream and we’re away!

We then flashback a while, to before the events of the day Lizzie finds the man (her father).

It’s the Bordens! Coming out of church! A passing man compliments Mr Andrew Borden on his pretty daughters, to which he grumpily quips that if that were the case, he’d have grandchildren by now. Lizzie and her elder sister, Emma exchange a look. Mrs Borden, Lizzie and Emma’s stepmother doesn’t have much to say. The family have a dry conversation about mutton on the way home. Things don’t seem that rosy on the home front, but who am I to judge?

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“What? I only Ax’d you what was for dinner…”

Later, at dinner Lizzie asks her father if she can be excused from the table. He says no but she goes anyway. She is told off even later on for humming to herself while he is trying to relax in the parlour. Basically, Mr Borden is kind of a dick.

Mr B, it turns out, is also not very popular with some of the townsfolk, failing to pay up on jobs that have been done for him, being a douche about it in general. Lizzie witnesses him having a talk to a couple of heavies in the yard while feeding the pigeons. What’s a girl to do though, when confronted with something of this nature? Go shopping, of course.

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“I Ax’d you not to post this picture of me on your blog. GAWD.”

Turns out little Lizzie has sticky fingers and pinches some coin from her stepmother’s purse. Then she hot foots it to (presumably), the only boutique in town. Where she finds out that her line of credit has been taken away (thanks stepmum, you bitch). It doesn’t even matter though as Liz has the cash and purchases a little summin-summin for a party later that night. While there, Lizzie tells the shop girl that she’s worried about something terrible happening to her father (!) as he has so many enemies (ooof clever!).

She also tells her that she’s always dreamt of doing more with her life and having freedom. Then she steals a pretty silver mirror for good measure, because she’s a bad ass. Sadly, she gets shopped to Pops by the shop girl and he later comes up to bollock her.

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“Let me Ax you something: how hot am I?”

Each of the scenes with Lizzie and Mr B are a little creepy with incestuous undertones, I hope it’s not just me who thinks it. The gist of these moments is that Lizzie is a master manipulator and hey, fair play. If Wednesday Addams looked at me with those Puss in Boots eyes, I’d do anything she asked of me, any time.

But back to the movie. I Wikipedia‘d Lizzie Borden and there was a theory about sexual abuse between father and daughter, though these tête à têtes are the only nod we see towards that now. Thankfully.

Mr B tells Lizzie she can’t go to the party unaccompanied but she persuades him she’ll be okay as she’s no longer a little girl. She goes to the party. A girl looks at her bitchily when she agrees to a drink and asks her “Aren’t you a Sunday school teacher?”. Lizzie quips, “Only on Sundays”. I like Lizzie. She’s got gumption.

Lizzie goes home and there’s a kerfuffle in the night, I think I went into the kitchen to make some tea when this was happening. There was some flapping and maybe some squawks so I imagine something happened to the pigeons?

In the morning Lizzie is woken by the news that there’s been a burglary. Some of Mrs Borden’s jewellery and cash has gone missing. Since they all know Lizzie has kleptomania, she’s the natural suspect. Of course she denies it and makes some digs about her stepmother’s family who are better off than them, and Mr B ain’t happy about her ingratitude. There’s some more weird flirting between them and then she tells him she doesn’t think she wants to get married.

Emma, Lizzie’s dowdy and quite boring sister (I don’t really rate the actress who plays her) conveniently goes to see a friend for a few days, leaving Lizzie at home with her parents. I ate three crumpets at this point so wasn’t really focused but Lizzie seemed pretty enthusiastic about this turn of events. Curiouser and curiouser.

So off Emma pops and while she does that, Lizzie fannies about a bit. The maids are also occupied, so occupied that they are absolutely nowhere to be seen as Wednesday slaughters both her parents in a violent and not very subtle way. Naked. Oh but wait, we don’t know she was naked yet, we’ll see that in a flashback later. My bad.

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Artist’s impression of murder victim

Mrs B gets the chop first though she isn’t discovered for hours, poor lamb, then Mr B comes home and has a nap on the couch. He never wakes up.

Lizzie discovers his body and it all kicks off. About seven different investigators turn up and question Lizzie, they all look the same and I keep getting them mixed up.

DNA profiling proves that it’s moved on somewhat since the 1800’s as the rigorous checks Lizzie is subjected to include; having her palms checked for blood, having the inspector walk around her and accept the excuse that the bright red stain on her blue dress is stew from earlier. Lizzie tells him that she was in the barn looking for fishing tackle (a likely story!) where she also ate three pears.

NB: This film was a lot more talky than I wanted it to be, with quite a bit of court room shenanigans. Therefore, there’s not much to describe. I’ll keep it brief from here.

Lizzie is questioned a lot about her feelings for her father and particularly, her step-mother. She admits that Mr B was a complicated man but that she loved him. Emma keeps asking her too if she has anything to share. Basically, everyone suspects her. She gets a lawyer with a jaunty mustache.

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“I Ax you this. Do you like my jaunty mustache?”

The cops are determined to bring Lizzie down, though a couple of them remain unconvinced that a woman could commit such a blood thirsty act. The main dude, I didn’t learn any of their names, quite rightly reminds them that the asylums are full of mad women. Just as the girls are about to bury their parents, they’re handed a document saying that the bodies are to be exhumed.

There’s some courtroom action, where Liz is cross-examined. The court asks her to hand over the blue dress as it turns out it did have blood on it after all. SLOW CLAP for not taking it in for evidence on the day of the murder, guys. Lizzie is next seen burning the dress. Who honestly knew?

More courtroom, Liz starts to unravel, forgetting what she’s said to the room before. At one point she screams “SHE WASN’T MY MOTHER!” about Mrs Borden which looks hella suspicious. They interview the maid and Emma, who both cover for her. She thanks Bridget the Maid by sacking her bluntly. Then she’s acquitted.

There was something about poison in the story somewhere, again I wasn’t really listening that hard. Lizzie leaves the courthouse with the smuggest face in courtroom history.

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“I’ll Ax you again: does my bum look big in this dress?” Answer: Definitely NO

The sisters slowly get back to reality but before this (?) we’re treated to the flash back of what really happened. Basically, Lizzie took great relish in killing her stepmother (why oh why does the poor stepmother always get such a bad rap? Dammit), then moving on to Pa, whom she murders whilst COMPLETELY NUDE. His last vision on Earth is of his wily daughter IN THE BUFF, perhaps another little sprinkling of symbolism?

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“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngghgfh!”

So Lizzie is free and loving life. Going to church in big hats and throwing parties. Basically living the life of Riley. Again with the subtlety, but there’s a little throwaway clue to Lizzie’s sexual preference at the Borden Sister’s NYE party, where she gets close to a pretty friend, telling her that she’s missed her. I recognise this girl from one of the trials, but can’t remember anything about her.

Wiki (again) suggests that there were rumours about a lesbian relationship between Lizzie and the maid (though this chick ain’t the maid). I sort of wish they’d played this part up a bit, not least just to make it more interesting, FFS. And who doesn’t love a lesbian?

Emma gets peeved that Lizzie is having so much fun and the morning after their big party, confronts her, telling her that all her new friends don’t like her for her, only for the notoriety (I’ve been friends with people for less). In return, lovely Lizzie whispers the truth into Emma’s boring ear.

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“Since you keep Ax’ing me. I totes did it. Lol.”

Emma leaves in shock and the Epilogue tells us that the sisters never saw each other again. Which is fair I think. Nobody was ever convicted of the Borden murders, and Lizzie lived for the rest of her days in the same town. Which must have been awkward.

Fin.

The Critique:

Blows raspberry. It was pants, TBH. It did pretty much everything you’d expect it to, as a TV movie, but I was expecting a bit more suspense, a little more something.

I guess I expected more of Ms Ricci, who has been the star of some amazing films in her time (Buffalo ’66, The Opposite of Sex). What is she doing? I guess it could’ve ended up being a little cult gem, but it’s not good enough for that.

I’ve always been really attracted to the unsolved mystery of what happened to the Bordens, in real life, and this is not the best way to honour the legend. Excuse me for expecting more.

Other sticking points: not much of a back story (therefore a flimsy motive). Sure, Mr Borden was an arse but is that really enough to want to hack his face off? Since there are so many theories I feel like they could’ve been a bit more creative with the ‘truth’.

And the music! It’s always a bit jarring when you pair a contemporary (ish) soundtrack with a costume piece, but this one was something else. It’s hard to describe but it was a sort of, and I’m quoting myself here: “weird, country pop soundtrack.” Later, “Cue crap Nickelback track”. Awful.

Clea DuVall wasn’t really given much to work with (but I don’t really like her so, meh) and there’s not much to say about the rest of the cast. Snooze.

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Wednesday would not approve.

The Rating:

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2 bloody axes out of 5

Head over to Jillian‘s shortly to find out what she thought!

All images via Google.
Ax jokes all mine.

Sunday Morning

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Sneak peak…

I live for Sunday mornings, before the rest of the house is up. I’m there with coffee, my notebook and a b-movie on Netflix, ready to cast judgement and make sarcastic comments.

This morning the Brighton Marathon is passing by my window, and I can hear the encouraging cheers from the crowd as I lift my second, third crumpet into my mouth.

Ah Sundays…

Review of Lizzie Borden Took An Ax coming tomorrow!