From King Street Wharf to the dead hole of Utopia out the front of George Street Cinemas, a place holder at another set of stairs closer toward the box office. Quick pace and then it's in to slip in a seat in with the rest of the audience, already well into the comfort but not quite there in the timeliness.
European from the accent and clearly from the style and visuals of the magic and illusions, Jessica Biel doesn't even look like Biel, a tranformation that renders her visage totally over to that of the aristocracy of the old Scandanavian type or other old world areas the film is set.
Accents are hard and plenty worth listening to to determine the Russian flavour of the month. No answers lie in any way in the plans and plots of the course, a whole lot of smoke and mirrors and it's all talk with fairly low standards for a conclusion.
Standing outside, tables of Pringles and Pringles. For what reason behind this cross promotion, enquiring minds forget to want to know until well after the fourth canister when everybody else picks up only one.
Friday, 23 February 2007
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