A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Sunday, February 16, 2025

Argylle (Matthew Vaughn, 2024)


Cast: Bryce Dallas Howard, Sam Rockwell, Bryan Cranston, Catherine O'Hara, Henry Cavill, John Cena, Dua Lipa, Samuel L. Jackson, Ariana DeBose, Sofia Boutella, Richard E. Grant. Screenplay: Jason Fuchs. Cinematography: George Richmond. Production design: Russell De Rozario, Daniel Taylor, Film editing: Col Goudie, Tom Harrison-Read, Lee Smith. Music: Lorne Balfe. 

A time- and talent-wasting spy spoof that was a perhaps well-deserved box office flop (which probably means it will emerge as a cult film someday), Argylle features Bryce Dallas Howard as Elly Conway, the author of a series of spy thrillers that have a way of predicting actual occurrences in the world of secret intelligence. She's tipped off to the peril this puts her in by Aidan Wilde (Sam Rockwell), a real-life espionage agent, and a manic series of revelations and counter-revelations ensues. Henry Cavill plays the title character, a James Bond clone with a flat-top haircut that would have offended Ian Fleming's Bond as much as a stirred martini. 

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