I've Had The Time Of My Life

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When I walked out of Christopher Nolan's Dunkirk back in 2017 and declared that “I would die to see his next movie”, I didn't expect the director to actually hold me to it. It's now 2020 and after several global pandemic related delays, the new Nolan film Tenet has been released at a time in which sitting in a room with a stranger is liable to lead to your immediate death. Although if you've sat anywhere near me in a cinema over the last few years and dared to so much as fucking breathe too loudly then you've very much been at risk of death already. On average I tend to go to the cinema literally about three times a week and yet it has now been five entire fucking months since I was able to visit. Sitting down to watch Tenet was like returning to a church but better because although God might not really exist, big explosions, thumping soundtracks, and mind-bending visuals thankfully do. Plus I'm relatively young, pretty healthy, and have at least one older member of my immediate family that I really can not stand. As I ran up the stairs to the screening room whilst licking the bannisters and door handles, I decided that, although I might not be prepared to die to see Christopher Nolan's latest film, I was more than happy to at least risk the passing on of a deadly virus to my bitch of a step-mum. 

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Oldman Does As He Must

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In many ways the problem with Gary Oldman's Winston Churchill make-up is how good it is. Because most of the time you stare amazed at how spot-on it looks, and then he takes his glasses off and you're distracted by the fact that Churchill is wearing Gary Oldman's fucking eyes. Obviously it'd be impossible to get the likeness completely perfect, but this film comes so close that whenever a minute imperfection appears you're distracted for a split second and reminded that it's all a performance. It's kind of like having a friend that's a reformed drug addict over for lunch and having the best time ever with them, but, despite how much you know they've changed their circumstances and who they are, if they were to even look at the medicine cabinet you'd get a momentary flash of them squirting Germaline into their gums and then burning the house down to hide your murdered corpse. As the hunched and bulldog-like Prime Minister paces through the shadows, you could be easily forgiven for thinking we were directly looking back through time at the real man. But then he'll lean too far forwards, his prosthetic jowls will hang slightly oddly and briefly you'll be expecting him to burst into song like Dame Edna's Goblin King from The fucking Hobbit.

Stuck And Running From The Bullets

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Christopher Nolan's Dunkirk begins with a soldier frantically trying to find a spot on the beach in which he can take a dump. Or maybe, he was just ticking off things he could do from his bucket list and having a literal shit on France was one of them. And who even knew this movie would be set in France at all? You'd think there would be a clue in the title but a few years ago a friend of mine let slip that he thought Dunkirk was actually a place in Scotland. After initially making fun of him for this lapse in his general knowledge, it quickly became annoyingly apparent that Dunkirk may actually be the most Scottish sounding word I've ever heard in my entire fucking life. When the English soldiers were stuck and desperate on the beach at the start of this film I genuinely had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't going to end with Mel Gibson riding over the hill, face painted blue and screaming for fucking 'Freedom!!!”