Some movies you anticipate as though you’re back at sixteen years of age, anticipating a life of collegiate debauchery. I mean, seriously. I mean, for real. I mean, holy fucking shit, “Spaaartaaans!”
A lot of my contemporaries are weary of these kinds of films. They deconstruct the gleaming outcroppings of abdominal muscle on the sword-waving/spear-throwing male heroes – they purse their lips at the sexual splendour of females adorned with vaguely “ethnic” jewelry and billowing veils/skirts.
I couldn’t live like that. I don’t consider myself a mindless twat for this – although perhaps others would. That’s OK. The movie might still end up sucking – but I will nevertheless have this glorious period of wishin’ and hopin’ – and no one can take it away from me.