Yesterday I paid to watch an avoidable movie, and then sat through it. For hours in a dimly lit hall I rubbed my hands in conspiratorial glee and plotted, thinking evil thoughts that would be part of my movie review. Alas, I could only come up with:
"Like Alexander, this movie should have been routed at the Indian border."
That was it. I'm not even sure of where in India his army was stopped. In any case, here's an exerpt from a review by Anthony Lane of The New Yorker:
"Alexander, born in 356 B.C., was the son of King Philip II of Macedonia and Olympias, one of his many wives; or, to put the matter in its most startling form, Colin Farrell is the son of Val Kilmer and Angelina Jolie. Wow. Given parentage of that calibre, the boy was never going to be your basic, middle-income Macedonian. Either he was going to conquer nation-states all the way from Athens to India, engraving his name in history, or he was going to wind up running a club called Oedipussy on the wrong end of Mykonos."
For the entire review, click here.