The Queen Does Not Want

So R and I went to see "Wanted" last night at the Beverly Hills Cinema. First, the good part: Gin and Tonics and scrumptious food at that fantastic Brazilian bar there. The beets! So good! Anyway, then we went to the movie. And I enjoyed it, don't get me wrong. The music was very good, very workout-worthy. Angelina Jolie is tres, tres jolie. She is also randomly naked in a very freeze-frameable shot. But as a culture, have we really gotten to the point that we need to see people's heads explode on screen? Isn't that rather end-of-Roman Empire-esque?

R pointed out that there was a huge leap of logic (among many, many other logic-free moments) that rather encapsulates the whole movie: there's this "loom of fate" (hee) that magically identifies people's names. Then the assassins kill them. R said "if I found your name in the fabric of my shirt, I might give you the shirt. But they decided to kill you instead."

Anyway. It would have been improved if there'd been fewer blood-drenched explosions and more of Angelina's bottom, but our movie rating system thinks that bottoms are dangerous for us.