Went to see Tintin In Tibet at the Barbican last week. The missus is a mad Tintin fan and if she had her way I’d doubtless be dressed in pale slacks and a blue jumper and have my hair dyed blonde with a little sticky-up bit at the front.
The show was fantastic and it reminded why theatre shows for kids are usually pretty good to watch – because they have to employ every trick in the book to keep the little buggers watching. And this show was no exception. It was beautifully choreographed, visually engaging and it also managed to transfer the clean lines and colour palette of Herge’s books to the stage. Clever stuff.
The other highlight of the weekend was a trip to see Brokeback Mountain. Because this is a film about two cowboys shagging it immediately became Bareback Mountain in my head – but that’s because I’m secretly a sniggering 13-year-old who likes rude jokes and still thinks men kissing is a bit funny. The film was very good, though, and Heath Ledger is probably a certainty for an Oscar for his portrayal of a cowboy too scared to let his real love speak its name.
The film also prompted the following discussion between me and the missus:
‘Did you like it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really? I didn’t think it was your sort of film…’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It didn’t have things being blown up.’
‘I can do sensitive films.’
‘Yeah…’
‘I can. I can do sensitive all the time. I’m a writer. Cut me and I bleed emotion all over the page…’
‘Shut up and get on the bus! Idiot…’
Sometimes my wife just doesn’t understand me. But that’s because I occasionally talk in Esperanto…
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