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Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

Dastan and Tamina huddle in a tent in a sandstorm and talk strategy.

Thanks to Hollywood’s generosity and thoughtfulness, people like me (who haven’t owned a game console since the Nintendo 64 was the latest thing) can still find out all about the new, hot games — if they’re willing to wait until they’re no longer new and hot, since it takes a while to get one of these movies released, of course. This is one such movie, and apparently the subtitle is important, since The Prince of Persia is apparently quite a different animal than The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, the second one being the game sequel to the first one.
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Robin Hood

Robin charging into battle against the French.

I — I don’t know where to start. It’s all so strange.

I’m best at the Tudor time period, but I’ve also read a lot about Eleanor of Aquitaine and her sons because — let’s face it — Eleanor was the coolest European noblewoman ever. She told the King of France to take a hike, and he did. Eileen Atkins makes a pretty good Eleanor, don’t get me wrong. The acting’s good all around. But the history. Oh, the history.

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Iron Man 2

Iron Man gleaming in the sun, repulsor ray at the ready.

The thing about sequels (usually) is that they get more expensive and more outrageous. If you destroy ten cars in the first movie, you have to wreck thirty in the next, and if you make it to four or five, you’re destroying two-thirds of the annual output of Detroit. And the ways in which the cars are wrecked get exponentially weirder. A pile-up on the freeway isn’t enough anymore. A few sequels down the road (so to speak), filmmakers apparently feel required to throw them at airborne helicopters or have them melted down by an erupting volcano or something.

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Nightmare on Elm Street

Jackie Earle Haley as the new and not really improved Freddy Krueger.

I never saw the original Nightmare on Elm Street. I know, what kind of movie critic does that make me, right? It’s considered something of a classic of the genre, and here’s me, not watching it. It isn’t because I thought it was bad, though; it’s because I’m such a complete coward about scary movies. But I gathered up my courage, thought of you, my 49 loyal fans, and headed out to the theatre, fully prepared to have to cover my eyes for at least 30 of the film’s 95 minutes.

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