What have you watched recently? 3D!

Right, sloth. Dunno why I thought it was gluttony. Apparently the actors didn't know sloth was meant to cough and be alive either - their own leap was, according to legend, genuine as well.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)

Every time Jennifer Jason Leigh was on screen, it was as if the word "moxy" had been decanted into human form.

What a fantastically entertaining mess and folly this turned out to be. I passed it by for so long, based purely on its unfair reputation as being a colossal flop - and therefore an ostensibly "bad" film; the Coen movie even the purists and fans stayed away from. Nor was that bias helped by the fact it can't be found on any of the major streaming services. All in all, a blank-cheque disaster?

Whoops. Wrong. Instead, the reality was a vibrant, fun urban fairy-tale (penned by Sam Raimi no less); an unabashedly screwball story, full of glorious miniatures and elaborate Art Deco sets - no doubt costly and thus ensuring that financial failure. Tim Robbins and Jennifer Jason Leigh shouldered the venture with magnetic and charming lead performances, full of effortless comic timing; while a strong supporting cast that included John Maloney, Bruce Campbell and Paul Newman made sure the spell was never lost by a dud actor stumbling over all the quickfire patter. Leigh's spunky energy could have crushed the film alone, had it not been carried off so well, all leaving a smile on my face every time she swaggered into a scene.

If it had a flaw, it might be that occasionally it all got a little too silly - and that finale was a little jarring - but this is a film crying out for a resurgence.

The Phantom of the Open (2022)

A sweet and heartwarming film, one that celebrated the glory of sporting failure with a goofy smile; that distinctly British flavour where ineptitude is written as something worthy or noble in its own way. This would pair nicely with 2016's Eddie the Eagle - or Next Goal Wins for a more international angle. With this feature, there was a childlike playfulness that elevated the material; visual flights of fancy from the perspective of the main character's imagination, little flourishes that added a touch of innocent wonder to an ostensible story of golf - that most stuffy and pompous of sports.

Mark Rylance was as stellar as always: the actor giving his lead a quiet & shy demeanour, but one that mixed an outwardly earnest optimism with silent, internal calculation behind the eyes. The film made no attempt to tell a tale of genius untapped: Maurice Flitcroft was bloody useless and arguably had no business trying his hand at golf. Critically though, the script didn't try to paint his quixotic pursuit as callous or blind to his family's needs or wants. This was a loving, supportive father; one whose kindness was repaid by a family returning that constant encouragement. I've no idea what the real Maurice Flitcroft was like and invariably these biopics tend to take liberties with reality, but this fictionalised version was a hapless dreamer making do despite it all. A naif gently wrapping the knuckles of a sport infamous for its classism.

The bit kinda took a backseat the more the "plot" took over - but at least it wasn't as jarring as something like District 9 where the movie just forgot it started as a documentary.