What do I hate more? The film 'Notting Hill' for being such a heaping pile of mildewed, rotten, putrid smelling sh*t, or myself for paying money to the industry that allowed this artificial fairytale 'romance' to ever appear at my local Odeon.
This is without doubt the most cloyingly saccharine sweet, disturbing, appallingly reality-free piece of film of all 1999, appealing only to a) Self satisfied idiots b) Drippy romantics/new couples. I'm neither a) nor b), so I see through the veil of c**p.
Will Thacker owns and runs a bookshop. Badly. The biggest film star in the world, Anna Scott, (Roberts) drops into Will's Notting Hill bookshop, one thing leads to another and the two start a relationship.
Not impossible, by any means. Just highly, highly improbable. The relationship and the place they called Notting Hill. I live near Notting Hill, and it don't look like that, believe me. Where are all the different races? Where are the tramps? Where's the rubbish? All conveniently airbrushed out to feed the Hollywood view of England as full of Hugh Grants (effeminate fops) and Rhys Ifans (lovable rouge) - granted, he's Welsh, but the US aren't listening that hard.
Incredibly, both the US and UK's general public seemed to fall for the same character Hugh Grant has been playing since he was born - (blithering mook) - and as for Julia Roberts and the scene where people are bad-mouthing actresses: boo-hoo!!! My heart goes out to Roberts, the beautiful actress living a dream, and earning dream money to go with it.
I should know better - I think I'm a pretty intelligent man, yet I paid my money and sat down for my medicine. And boy, did it taste bad.
This is without doubt the most cloyingly saccharine sweet, disturbing, appallingly reality-free piece of film of all 1999, appealing only to a) Self satisfied idiots b) Drippy romantics/new couples. I'm neither a) nor b), so I see through the veil of c**p.
Will Thacker owns and runs a bookshop. Badly. The biggest film star in the world, Anna Scott, (Roberts) drops into Will's Notting Hill bookshop, one thing leads to another and the two start a relationship.
Not impossible, by any means. Just highly, highly improbable. The relationship and the place they called Notting Hill. I live near Notting Hill, and it don't look like that, believe me. Where are all the different races? Where are the tramps? Where's the rubbish? All conveniently airbrushed out to feed the Hollywood view of England as full of Hugh Grants (effeminate fops) and Rhys Ifans (lovable rouge) - granted, he's Welsh, but the US aren't listening that hard.
Incredibly, both the US and UK's general public seemed to fall for the same character Hugh Grant has been playing since he was born - (blithering mook) - and as for Julia Roberts and the scene where people are bad-mouthing actresses: boo-hoo!!! My heart goes out to Roberts, the beautiful actress living a dream, and earning dream money to go with it.
I should know better - I think I'm a pretty intelligent man, yet I paid my money and sat down for my medicine. And boy, did it taste bad.
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