Usual Friday night scenario. We watch the news, we’re bathed, dressing gowned, tea-ed up and relaxed. I’m failing miserably on some cryptic crossword compiled by a dyslexic Lithuanian-speaking sub-normal (obviously, otherwise I’d be racing through it…) and Mel’s asleep. Fast asleep. Head hanging on one side, just sufficiently that even a 3 minute snooze will result in neck pain for a month, but I couldn’t wake her. So instead I channel surf. I’m a man. Iss what we do.
And there, on channel 371 or 259, one I’ve probably never used before, was Top Gun.

The Holy Grail. One of those simply must-watch’a-bit-of movies. Oddly (it must be on special offer right now to tv companies) I’d watched a bit of it the other night on channel 732, or 563 perhaps. But this was the end of the film. Tom lands his plane after killing loads of Russian bastard scummy scuzzy, suicide-bombing, Chelsea-supporting vermin and everyone cheers and loves him, the returning hero. All 5 foot 3 of him. But he’s almost normal size when sitting in an F15, or whatever those planes are. And I thought two things after my 7 minutes of Top Gun:

1. I LOVE this film

2. This film is just plain shite.

Seemingly contradictory, the ill-informed may think, but they’d be wrong. My life is one big contradiction so holding seemingly opposing views is just same shit different day for me.

And I love it because its almost the ultimate feel good film. It wasn’t Tom Cruise who shot down those evil Russians, it was me. And it wasn’t him that walked off with a simmeringly gorgeous Kelly McGillis, it was me. And it wasn’t him on that fab motorbike riding without a helmet, it was me. And that’s what the best films do; they put you ‘there’. They’re inclusive. (Going to see The Theory of Everything tomorrow night; wonder how I’ll feel after 2 hours in a wheelchair speaking with an electronic voice??).

And its a shite film because it is just one big cliché. Amazingly predictable, horribly formulaic from the love angle to the big rivals become big mates man-hugs at the end, the bad boy comes good, the Maverick (in so many ways) becomes the team player and saves the universe, almost single-handedly, and rides off into the sunset with the babe. Ahhhhhhh.

See, its crap. Hope its on again tonight.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx