I hate football. I hate everything about it: the swagger, the aggression of a proportion of the fans, the ludicrous notion that any of the protagonists are worth anywhere near the vulgar amounts they're paid, the slack-jawed girlfriends and the hysteria that grips a vast percentage of the general public every four years in the mistaken belief that the national team (comprised almost entirely of the absolute cream of English ball-kicking tosspots) has some kind of divine right to the World Cup.
It was with some surprise, then, that I watched The Damned United this evening and loved it. I was persuaded to watch it for one reason only: it appears to be physically impossible for Michael Sheen to make a shit film.
I've no idea whether he portrayed Brian Clough with even a smidgen of his true essence, but this the measure of Sheen's ability as an actor: without any interest whatsoever in the subject matter of the film, I was nevertheless held rapt by his performance.
It was with some surprise, then, that I watched The Damned United this evening and loved it. I was persuaded to watch it for one reason only: it appears to be physically impossible for Michael Sheen to make a shit film.
I've no idea whether he portrayed Brian Clough with even a smidgen of his true essence, but this the measure of Sheen's ability as an actor: without any interest whatsoever in the subject matter of the film, I was nevertheless held rapt by his performance.
RSS Feed
