Peter Sarsgaard’s chest hair looks like a thundercloud with a lightning bolt coming out of it. So if he ever enters a bare chested men’s fighting club he’s got his nickname covered: Thunder Chest. Oh, here comes Thunder Chest, look out bare chested men of action! Wow, this is starting to sound seedy.
Sixteen year old British schoolgirl Jenny Mellor (Carey Mulligan) is waiting on the bus in the rain and handsome older stranger David Goldman (Peter Sarsgaard) pulls up in a car and says hey nice cello get in! And she does. He’s not the murdering kind of older stranger, though, he’s the take young girls to jazz clubs and Paris kind of older stranger.
David steals art from old ladies and moves black families into apartments near other old ladies to scare them so their apartments are sold for dirt cheap. He’s built a whole old lady crime economy. If I was going to build an old lady crime economy I’d make the old ladies do the crime for me. The Old Lady Crime Club, I’d call it.
Once, my great-grandmother got in a minor accident with another old lady in their enormous cars and they hung out in the parking lot for a solid hour chatting it up long after the policeman had left. “Oh, you know Claudine Stephens gave me the recipe for that cake two weeks ago and her grandson works in computers and makes very good money; he and his family moved next door to the old mill-works where my cousin had her wedding and don’t you know she just broke her arm hitting a raccoon with a rolling pin- I got that same rolling pin on sale at Piggly Wiggly, you know the one over on Davis St. by the Pearce house where all those bare chested men have their fighting club…”
I’d have to send the old lady criminals on separate missions or they’d end up chatting on the museum roof, black ski masks pulled up, stolen priceless diamond forgotten, trading pound cake recipes.
Alfred Molina plays Jenny’s father. I was really impressed back when he played Doctor Octopus in Spider-Man 2. I think it’s great when a superhero or villain is pudgy or looks out of shape but they can still kick ass. Granted, his power was derived from his relentless clamping metal octopus arms, but the man beat the shit out of Spider-Man and looked like all he ate was pizza rolls. My superhero name would be Fatty Breadsticks. Right now it’s just my poker name, but if I ever get my hands on some superhero abilities, you better believe Fatty Breadsticks will take to the skies.
Oh right, the movie. Turns out sixteen year old girls shouldn’t date adult men. Don’t do it, girls. It never ever ever works out. Take it from Fatty Breadsticks, the paunchy advice giving superhero. Breadsticks AWAY!