Last night I watched Argo. It was very good, there were some marvellous beards and 1970s glasses the size of enormous glasses.
It was about things and lots of stuff happened, but mainly it reminded me of the Hollywood fallacy about airports being exciting places. There were plenty of sweaty upper lips and furtive glances as the PEOPLE WHO WANTED TO LEAVE were TRYING TO LEAVE while MOUSTACHIOD GUARDS kept glancing at them suspiciously and taking an agonisingly long time before breaking the tension with the slam of their official ‘off you go then’ stamp.
The only mounting tension and furtive glances I have ever experienced at an airport is when you begin to suspect the bloke next to you is surreptitiously manoeuvring his luggage trolly in a attempt to push in front of the queue.
Not that Argo is all about airports, but the main scene on which the entire movie hangs is essentially a troublesome check in. It takes Hollywood to turn this mundanity of airport life into Oscar-award winning material.
At Luton I once thought I’d lost our passports, but then I found them. At no point during the desperate search through my handbag did I think, “Wow, this’d make a great movie”, but I guess that’s the main difference between me and Ben Affleck. That, and the twitching thing, and the bear allergy.
If you ask me there’s much more action to be had at the motorway service station. Just last week, we had a thrilling hunt for bananas at a Welcome Break near Nottingham. Needless to say the hunt was fruitless*, but there were some heartstopping moments, like when we mistook a mint Wagon Wheel for an apple.
Hey movie producers, if you want passion and outrage check out some of the comments on this site which reviews and rates all motorway service stations in Britain. These guys are as mad as hell,( in pretty much every sense of the word).
Imagine some of these as tag lines:
“Cramped, dirty and dangerous”
“A thoroughly depressing experience”
“£4 for a handful of pick and mix!!!!”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to start my screenplay.