Last night I saw Charlie's Angels, since I missed it at the all-nighter. I know this is probably going to get me lynched by a large number of people, but I thought it was awful. Really and truly bad, in that teeth-grinding, American-sitcom sense of the word. Yes, it had cool bits. No, those cool bits were not cool enough, nor plentiful enough, to overcome the mickey-mouse plot, cutesy girly interaction and general cliche-ness of the whole thing. The fighting was nothing near as good as I'd been led to believe it was going to be, and it definitely paled by comparison with either Matrix or (most definitely) Crouching Tiger. I liked the end credits and Lucy Liu's wardrobe. And, to a lesser extent, other little bits, like Lucy's dominatrix routine, and Ms Diaz's 'crushing of larynx with boot' trick.

But basically, bah humbug and a big thumbs-down from Dee on this one. I came home and found that PB had been going to come, but had stayed here and watched Fight Club instead. Good choice there, boyo. Good choice.