Of the many wonderful things about Netflix – like being able to watch five seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race without getting up, and never being in danger of accidentally watching a film you’ve heard of – my favourite is rummaging through the weird careers of major Hollywood stars. For example, just by clicking on his name, I can look at Val Kilmer’s catalogue, watch all the horror movies that pop up, and then sort-of review them with gently derisive affection. Right, let’s do that then.
It’s week two of Not-Quite-Christmas, and Daisy’s back with another bloody awful Hallmark movie about an inept singleton at Christmas. GASP! at Eve’s inexplicable hobo-powered trip through time! SHOCK! at Cheryl Ladd as Foxy Mum! WONDER! when the stress of this column will start killing off our writers!
SO, some model we’ve never heard of is playing Wonder Woman in a film that neither needs nor deserves her and her kooky 50s assortment of tricks. We took to Twitter to gauge public opinion, and (as we suspected) everyone thought it was a dreadful idea.
Three days in to her Advent crusade, and Daisy’s demonstrably beginning to suffer. Behind today’s door lurks another of the most cheerfully overused tropes in Christmas film history; the bad man who needs to learn about the reason for the season. Rumour has it that enjoying Dear Santa is grounds for an immediate mental health order.
Heedless of the potential for damage to her optic nerve and future ability to form relationships, Daisy’s headed back to Christmas 24 for another made-for-TV holiday special. Did you read Daisy’s Christmas Stocking #1 and quietly decide that A Christmas Wedding Date sounded like the worst Christmas/wedding crossover film ever? Well, you were wrong.
December’s here, and it’s cold and miserable and nobody at Best For Film Towers can breathe without choking on phlegm. We’re not loving winter so far. Fortunately, Ella’s managed to smuggle a bit of good cheer into this ghastly gloomy afternoon – here’s how to get some of your own.
Advent is here, and we’re embarking upon our most ambitious pre-Christmas blog extravaganza yet. Proper broadsheet journalist and Made in Chelsea expert Daisy Buchanan will be joining us (nearly) every day between now and Christmas Eve to give her unfiltered thoughts on one of the many, many holiday films currently infesting the airwaves courtesy of Christmas 24. We’re kicking things off with something called A Christmas Wedding Date; you may want to brace yourselves, or at least bite down hard on some mistletoe. Spoilers will abound.
Twitter has lit up this morning with the news that Tom Daley, that lovely diver boy who now seems to do more TV than swimming, has outed himself as bisexual in a pleasant and unassuming little YouTube video. So, obviously, we’re getting a blog out of it. YOU KNOW HOW WE DO.
Two things, specifically, make the Romans attractive to filmmakers: Christians, and depraved emperors. As a result, they’re now are cemented in cinema as dastardly villains, mad emperors, sex crazed ladies, and gays. Probably incestuous gays. Or bestial gays. Or whatever the worst thing you can think of is. And quite rightly so, the Romans were bastards; that’s why I like them. So here, in no particular order (except number one, which is definitely number one) are my favourite Romans in film.