Now, like most of the other important international media (New York Times, The Guardian, the Economist, the Hokkaido Shimbun), it would be very easy for this blog to become all consumed with the coronavirus.
But I am not going to let that happen, dear reader. No, I will balance the darkness with light, the tragic with the uplifting, the Mayo Footballers with the special genius that will be forever Joe Canning.
So, with this post I am going to commence an intermittent series of brief film reviews. With my university classes suspended until April 22, and no overseas travel for the foreseeable future, I now, finally, have some time to catch up on matters celluloid.
First up is Ad Astra, a science fiction film starring my doppelganger, Brad Pitt. In this movie Brad plays a man suffering from bradycardia. For the medically illiterate among you (and by now that should be a vanishingly small number of you), 'bradycardia' describes a medical condition whereby a person suffers from an abnormally slow heart rate.
Ad Astra details Brad's increasingly wild attempts to accelerate his pulse into beating more than 40 times a minute. He free-falls from an exploding space station in low Earth orbit and his heart rate barely budges above 40. He gets assailed by Pink Floyd fans on the dark side of the moon and still his cardiogram blips along at the four zero mark. He tries to escalate matters by getting attacked by psychotic baboons on a spaceship (no, seriously) just beyond the Asteroid Belt (a.k.a. Cavan). And still his heart tick-tocks along under 50. He even gets as far as Neptune, has a bit of a schmozzle with his old man, all manner of things get blown up and yes, you guessed it, still no cure for the bloody bradycardia.
I will have to say that this film affected me deeply. Like Brad, I too suffer from bradycardia. Like Brad, I too possess a whiskey-oak handsomeness that defies age. And like Brad, I too have spurned the desperate love of Angelina Jolie (it's why I came to Japan. Long story).
Five stars.
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