Nazis With The Laughing Face
鈥淲hat do you call those German guys?鈥 asked Zedson, as we sat in the foyer of the Vue cinema in Inverness, watching the overhead monitors screen the trailer for the movie.
鈥淎re they Nantcies? Nancys?鈥
鈥淣azis鈥, I corrected him, 鈥淭he Nancys are those girls on the telly who are competing for a part in 翱濒颈惫别谤!鈥
But his mistake prompted a rather tasteless flight of fancy in which we imagined Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber auditioning swastika-clad cabaret artists for the revival of a Mel Brooks musical. We then watched the trailer for Ironman and speculated about an alternative plot in which the leading character could press shirts faster than a speeding bullet. Then we saw the big diorama display for this summer鈥檚 sequel to The Mummy and we invented a plot about an ultra-caring parent who saves the world using only cuddles and bedtime stories. I did the rasping voice-over for that one:
鈥淚t鈥檚 never too late鈥o be tucked in!鈥
All of which seemed much more logical than the Indiana Jones film itself. I mean, don鈥檛 get me wrong, we enjoyed all the action sequences鈥ven though the sword-play was reminiscent of Pirates of the Caribbean. Zedson gave the movie nine out of ten, which is generous for him.
But on the way home he was still confused about the actual story. I couldn鈥檛 help much, mainly because I鈥檇 nipped back to the foyer half-way through in search of coffee. Or anything with caffeine in it.
Still, nine out of ten. Just one point deducted.
Not enough Nancys, I guess.
