By Petr Navovy | Celebrity | September 19, 2016
It started like any number of other Friday nights: I’d read an excellent, favourable review of a movie I’d been looking forward to for some time (in this case Hell Or High Water); I picked out one of the four or five acceptable cinemas in London and I went there, bought a ticket and a beer, and then I sat down in the same seat I always sit in (3rd row, slightly to the left), ready to enjoy the shit out of a grizzled Jeff Bridges prowling across some vast Texan vistas. And I was ready and willing to enjoy this in spite of Chris Pine.
But then something happened. Something strange and aberrant and a little bit frightening.
I witnessed Chris Pine being a good actor.
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I know, right? Like, the movie as a whole was fucking fantastic — organically plotted, beautifully shot, full of tension and pathos — but Chris Pine? Chris Pine didn’t ruin it.
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He wasn’t even just serviceable. It wasn’t good in spite of him.
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The sonofabitch had the gall, the unmitigated audacity to be really fucking good in it.
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Which had me all:
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It was a similar effect to when we all discovered that Charming Potato was actually good too. Remember that? The soul-searching that led to?
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And I mean it’s not Pine’s fault. He makes a good Kirk. I just never thought he had it in him to do some serious heavy lifting.
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But fuck me, he can, and he does. I dunno, maybe it’s just the mustache, but in Hell or High Water he is an image of a man coiled with rage and weighed down by regret.
In short: Good on you, Chris. Good on you.
Casting directors, cast this man in more awesome movies please.
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Jessie Wallace lives in London and plays music