Okay, I’m going to say it. Les Miserables sucked.
There. I can’t take it back.
We could have done a Phantom Menace and lied to ourselves for months, but I think it’s better to accept the truth now. Ahhh, that’s good. It’s a load off my chest. [Ed note: Spoilers follow].
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There are two ways to see Russell Crowe’s decision to renounce his 37.5 per cent stake of the Rabbitohs football club for “family reasons”.
You could see him as a role model for the thoroughly modern man; a father prepared to make personal sacrifices in the name of family.
Or, you could take a more cynical approach and question whether Crowe’s time would be better saved slicing off a couple of movies from schedule every year.
There are few things harder in this soft ‘n’ cushy life than giving up smoking and while it’s easy to remember why or when you had your first cigarette, the story of how you gave up is never quite as interesting. Except if you’re Russell Crowe.
According to today’s Herald Sun the former Gladiator star will always blame his decision to quit on oldest son, Charlie.
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Mel Gibson may have had a few bad times recently, but let’s not forget that he’s still Australian. Let’s set aside the claims that he is sexist, homophobic, anti-Semitic, and allegedly now a girlfriend-beater as well. He’s still the same lovable Mel Gibson who grew up in Sydney, who attended NIDA (National Institute of Dramatic Arts), and who gave us Mad Max.
Surely he’s still the prodigal son of our land, making the nation proud.
Or maybe, now that he’s dragging down the Australian name, it’s time to admit that he’s a New Yorker and we don’t really have a legitimate claim to him.
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Last Saturday, while having lunch on the balcony at my favourite cheap pasta joint in the city, I saw a large man emerging from a large black Mercedes. Watching this guy cross the road with two little boys, I had one of those celebrity spotting moments when you think “that bloke kinda looks like Russell Crowe”, only to discover on closer inspection that it actually was Russell Crowe.
Things became more interesting when Rusty and the boys came up in and sat down at the table across from me at Bill and Tony’s.
Bill and Tony’s is the kind of cheap standard Italian restaurant that you can’t find in inner-city Sydney much anymore. Gaudy maps of Italy and red and white chequered table cloths have been replaced by stark aluminium interiors and names like Il Ruccola del Fuccula.
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That’s all she wrote for ‘newspaper movies’, with the fruitful subgenre to breathe its last once the Russell Crowe thriller State of Play slips this week from Australia cinemas.
No longer will Hollywood stars loosen their ties and roll up their sleeves as scoop-hungry newspaper reporters, no more will veteran character actors bring knowing splashes of avuncular charm to the stock role of the grizzled editor. No longer will the movie news be broken in print.
State of Play, with Crowe as a Washington journalist chasing a far-reaching Capitol conspiracy, marks the end of an era simply because 21st century audiences assume, correctly or not, that news now happens online.
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RUSSELL Crowe knows better than most the blurred line between news and entertainment. “I’ve been living it for 30 years,” he tells The Punch while in the UK to film his latest blockbuster Robin Hood.
So it’s a little surprising to hear him bemoan the death of the “noble profession” of newspaper journalism, as across the United States, in particular, flag ship periodicals are closing or are being slashed to the bone.
Clearly the recession is to blame, combined perhaps with poor overall management. But Crowe believes it’s also because the reader has evolved into a cynic with an inability to discern fact from fiction due in no small way to the celebrity culture.
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