Cheap Tuesday at the cinema, isn’t really that cheap anymore. In any case, it couldn’t be cheap enough to justify watching what I got roped into tonight. Amazing Grace is an overly dramatic and dreary biopic of William Wilberforce, the chap who pushed for the abolition of the slave trade through British Parliament some time ago. The love story is tedious, the lines are ridiculous and the acting a tad theatrical for the celluloid image.
The next night, I watched the documentary I am a sex addict. Possibly on the vague promise of titillation with the addition of a famous French porn actress re-invented as a serious thespian, I made a point of making some time to see it. It’s cheaply made, a bit like an early Woody Allen movie and has an unfortunately unlovely-looking protagonist but it’s also terribly sincere, is very funny and full of self-reflexive devices which I like. In comparison to a well-jawed actor pontificating about “seeing God” and the like, I much preferred the tongue-in-cheek renditions of an orgasm by writer/director/actor Caveh Zahedi.
What does it mean for me to have found this self-indulgent exploration into depraved addiction so much more worthwhile than the terribly dull and worthy story of the Great Man, William Whats-his-face? I think it goes to show, firstly, that there’s no accounting for taste and secondly, that I personally loathe movies that go to great lengths to mythologise historical personalities.