I’m still in big screen mode because I went to see The Wrestler yesterday. And it made me sick. Sick as in vom.
It wasn’t the blood and guts in the movie, the tight green lycra or Mickey Rourke’s roots that triggered it. It wasn’t the double scoop of banana chocolate chip and walnut ice cream. Although I admit that confection probably did speed things up a little. It was the camera work.
I felt like I was on a cross channel ferry in a gale force 10 wind from the get go. It was fancy handy cam work, but sickening.
I haven’t been nauseous in years, so at first I tired to ingnore the creeping disturbance in my stomach. Then I got very sleepy and clammy but I blamed the cinema air conditioning. I took off my cardigan and undid a few buttons, not unusual cinema back row activities.
It was only when my stomach heaved and there was no going back that I realised this was the real deal and I bolted for the door.
Even though he made me puke I still say that Mickey Rourke should win the best actor Oscar for his performance of Ram the broken down wrestler. I have a lot in common with Ram. His hairstyle and face – that’s what I see when I look in the mirror first thing in the morning.
I urge you to go and see The Wrestler and stay right till the end so you can hear the Bruce Springsteen song written and performed especially for the film.
The Wrestler is just chunderful.
Lets stop pretending, you got sick because you and dad went out for the day and overate. Its funny anyway
Good blog
xxx
It was Ram that made me sick not the two scoops of ice cream, and full disclosure time, the portions of chips I shared with Dad x