Emily Blunt has gone on my nerves lately. It’s not because of anything she’s said or done. And there’s no reasonable explanation, like I didn’t care for a role she played in a film I saw. No, it’s just that, the woman is everywhere. seo data Some days I feel surrounded by Emily Blunt, which is not necessarily the worst thing thing in the world, but there are days when I’d just like a little “me” time. I swear, I have not watched a DVD in over a month without seeing her acting in the film itself, or showing up for a moment on a preview, sometimes even two. I told a friend about this state of affairs, and she suggested that Emily might be stalking me. It seemed like the most reasonable explanation so was about to look into getting a TRO, when this happened.
I sat down to watch Looper last night. The DVD starts off with four rare Blunt-free previews, and soon enough I’m deep into the couch, enjoying a good time travel caper starring Joseph Gorden-Levitt and Bruce Willis as the same guy, the young and old likeness of Joe, a Looper, whose job is to kill and dispose of people sent back in time from 30 years in the future. The story is taught, well written, the situations are plausible and intriguing, and most of all the explanations about time travel really make sense for a change. They do not rely on shiny gizmotronics, shanghaied knock off plot devices from other movies, or a lot of throbbing bass pulses blowing out your speakers. Then, I suppose people with crappy speakers who watch crappy time travel movies get what they deserve. This movie though, is so good I’m even willing to suspend disbelief that Bruce Willis is Gorden-Levitt as an old man. The filmmakers had to pick someone, what else could they do? They couldn’t film Gorden-Levitt as young Joe, then wait 30 years for him to play the part of old Joe. It’s not an option. So I buy into the whole Gordon-Levitt / Willis continuum because it’s in my own best interest to keep moving along with the progression of the film, like I’m the first person in line at Walmart on Black Friday. I may not be entirely sure where I’m going when the doors burst open, but whatever happens don’t stop now, just stay with the flow and hopefully get what I came for, that flat panel TV in the back of the store. Keep the big picture in mind.
Then suddenly, at 58 minutes into the film, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, where the hell did she come from? Emily Blunt sitting pretty in a rocking chair on the porch of her old farmhouse, white paint peeling because Lord knows times are tough. More importantly, how could I have not seen this coming? Wasn’t her name mentioned in the credits? Did I miss this one and only preview among the thousands of previews I’ve seen her in recently?
For close to an hour I have been lulled into complacency, slowly forging a belief in things that should not be believed. I’ve accepted that people can travel 30 years through time, on schedule, like the crosstown bus. And again, I reluctantly went along with that Gordon-Levitt / Willis thing. But did it really require a sneak attack to get me to accept that Masterpiece-Theatre-English-accented Emily Blunt could rock the porch on a rural Kansas farm of the future?
Maybe, but then a miracle occurred, both in the movie and on my sofa. Little by little, scene by scene, Emily stole the show and won me over. stoneantoniows.blogspot.com Unconditionally and completely. I had an awakening when she walked the walk in them farm boots, a single mother who raised her son as best she could, while working a cane farm like she lived there all her born days. She walloped chunks out of a dead, dry stump, her double bitted ax flailing away like there was no tomorrow. Her day, already full from sunup to sundown with chores, gets even busier when she’s got to put a light under every passing vagrant and hobo who pops out of the 8 foot high cane field and into her front yard looking for a handout. She does this in boots (previously mentioned), tight jeans, and more boots (different than previously mentioned). Reeling off a warning here and a threat there to trespassers, in what sounds like an authentic regional-future hillbilly of the prairie dialect. ip info I believed her, and I sympathized with her too, as I had worked on a farm for many years, and still remember the long days that tired a person down to the core, even without any vagrants or hobos to contend with.
Emily, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize. I’m sorry. From this point on, I’ll be glad to see you at the movies, anytime. And at the risk of sounding corny as a drop of likkar fresh from the still, I don’t care, I’ll say it anyway, it’s a future I look forward to.