Will it be Clooney or Wahlberg

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If you read the book A Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger (delish looking, check the jacket) you know how it turns out. Whilst crunching popcorn, your erstwhile NoonCity correspondents debated the relative charms of the leading men. Ms. C was a Clooney girl while I was knee-deep in a developing fetish for Mark Wahlberg. You are one or the other, no overlap.

While the Clooney is fine to look at, I wasn’t quite buying the grizzled-yet-poetic sailor routine. In fact, if you do require acting in order to enjoy your films fully, you’ll need to step over George on your way to the story. Just sign a message, drop it in his maw, and sit back.

Here’s the movie in bite size chunks:

Story:
Bunch of guys head out on a last ditch fishing trip late in the season (ominous late-season-storm alert) to make some much needed dough. Lots of ominous rolling clouds and shrouded skies. Lots of women crying beforehand, having premonitions, Lots of furrowed brows in the Channel Whatever Boston TV Weather Department. Ominous. Ominous.

Lots of bad luck stuff. Guy dragged overboard. Fridge goes out. Mean guy smoking tons and talking all mutinous style. Everything but a literal albatross shows up. The Clooney loses points when he ignores all this. Duh! Now is not the time for that stirring battle speech, son; put the pedal to the metal and motor on home from those Grand Banks before Davey Jones catches up.

Dénouement:
The oh, ah…. storm hits! What a surprise. What is surprising is that for such a total and complete cliché, it works. The stomach-churning horror of the waves is grueling to sit through. But offset by all the male beauty running around on deck.

May 23rd, 2007