Tuesday, 12 August 2008

Dear Patrick Batman

Bale, sir, I really must insist that you stop this at once.

Having just sat through your utterly inexplicable performance in The Dark Knight, I feel compelled to ask: what precisely is it about that rubber suit which makes your voice drop two full octaves every time you slip it on? I'm curious to know, since I've spent half of the past two movies attempting to make out what the fuck you're saying - a laborious business which is almost as off-putting as that cunt scrunching a crisp packet for the best part of an hour two rows back from me.

While I've got your attention, do you think you can have a quiet whisper in Chris Nolan's ear? It's just that he seems to have got it into his noggin that he's making some kind of profound, weighty treatise on terrorism, vigilante justice and surveillance in the post-9/11 world instead of, y'know, a comic-book movie with explosions and stuff. I wouldn't normally whinge, but we already have Bryan Singer on hand to suck all the joy out of popcorn entertainment. By all means call him a mulleted hack, but at least Joel Schumacher had a sense of humour.


PS - Do you like Phil Collins? (etc, etc.)

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