Sami CattLetter to Pierce Brosnan's chest hair
September 22nd 2008 05:30
Pierce Brosnan and his magnificent chest hair
OK, so this is the thing. I was having one of those days where I just needed to escape and watch some losery Hollywood movie in a darkened cinema while indulging in a slurpee.
OK, I have a lot of those days. But that day I really needed it. I’m sure you can appreciate the difference.
So anyway, it was either Hancock (Will Smith *sigh*) or Mamma Mia... and dunno, I was just so darn curious about the latter that I decided to forgo a night out with Big Will for the Greek Islands. Not sure if I made the right choice. It’s not that I didn't like the movie, per se. I totally laughed in the appropriate places (and in others too). It was definitely fun. But seriously, half the cast couldn’t sing. Given that it’s a musical (and we’re talking no gentle segue into the music, just jumping right in) it would have been so much cooler if they didn't massacre the music, forcing us to cringe half the time. There is only so much a beautiful backdrop can do, ya know?
While only a few of the actors really did Abba’s tunes justice (I *heart* Abba and I did not, I repeat did not, used to wear a poncho on my head when I was five to make up for a lack of long hair so that I could pretend to be Agnetha while singing along to Abba (didn’t happen)). But let it be known that Pierce Brosnan cannot sing. No really, he can’t. I love you, Pierce. I mean, while Daniel Craig is a great Bond, what the studio did to you blows chunks (Craig doesn’t do suave the way you do). But you can’t sing.
See, days later what stood out most from the movie was the magnificence of Pierce Brosnan’s chest hair. It stole the show. He was “singing” at one point and it was so bad that I had to look anywhere but at Pierce’s beautiful earnest face. And there it was. An open shirt, tufts of chest hair proudly displayed for the world to see. Practically blowing in the Greek Island breeze.
Five stars, Pierce. Don’t be coy about it. You had your shirt unbuttoned. Surely you knew what you were doing. But who could blame you, man?! You have great chest hair. Nay, positively splendiferous!
Moral of the story: when you look that good and when your chest hair overtakes your performance, bad singing is totally forgivable. Mamma mia!
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