Winter's Tale - No, not the Shakespeare one, but one by the guy who wrote Batman & Robin, which as sentences go is a little like saying
"no, not the Sistine chapel, this bit of sick I've just seen come out of a tramp over there who'd been eating his own shit." Now, obviously, if life was fair he would've been burned at the steak by the WGA in 1997, but he somehow conspired to limp on and partially redeem himself with a couple of Will Smith vehicles. Though he also adapted the Da Vinci Code so that's a setback. Here he's adapted, produced and directed a film that is somehow impossibly boring for something that contains a flying horse, Will Smith as the devil and Russell Crowe as a comedy accented Irish thug with a tick.
It's sort of set in a mythical, parallel version of earth, but this isn't either explained or depicted quite well enough to be charming in a Stardust sort of a way, and so it just seems daft and confusing when a flying horse (called simply "horse") turns up and flies a silly haired Colin Farrell all around the place during moments of extreme plot convenience. Farrell is in love with a girl who's dying, and they have an instant, silly, annoying romance that at one point includes the line
"Do you think it's possible to love someone so much they simply can't die?" which is very nearly more hateful than everything in Batman & Robin combined.
Russell Crowe plays a twitching thug like an impression of a drunk Richard Harris by an even drunker Oliver Reed and Will Smith is the devil, which sounds like it could be a good idea, but isn't, as he's in a grand total of two scenes, never leaves one small room and is dressed like some kind of hateful Bruno Mars fan with two earrings and t-shirt/jacket combo, which instantly ruins everything.
There's also some dozy subplot about people in love becoming stars when they die that made me want to kick through my TV and Jennifer Connelly turns up to do virtually nothing for the final 1/3rd, a bit like when Bridget Fonda was in The Godfather for no reason, and then wasn't, only backwards.
It was so annoying that I forgot how long my chicken had been in the oven, meaning at one point there was genuinely a possibility of a film being so bad it could've killed me.
I'm alright though.
The only good bit is Russell Crowe riding a horse and somehow managing to look fatter than it.
Dull aching bollocks.
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