Nonpareil in sheer punchability, Edward Norton's smug, high-pitched everyman generally hovers well below the other Edwards (see Anthony Edwards, John Edwards, Edward Furlong) of the planet in screen likability.
Not surprisingly, with Fight Club and Primal Fear, E. Nort achieves a rare, DVD box-tossing exacta: mercilessly loathsome sad sacks twice revealed at 11:59 to be mercilessly loathsome antagonists that we suddenly wish had died two acts earlier in (1) a Meat Loafian cannibalistic rampage, and (2) a psychosexual jailhouse shiv attack, respectively.
To think--he once had biblical knowledge of Queen Salma Hayek, the bewitching feminine emissary of so many of my furtive workplace fantasies. I'm ashamed that my otherwise spot-on cock-blocking skills let that macabre sexual alliance come to fruition.
Agreed,
Denny DelVecchio
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1 comment:
Your smugness makes Ed Norton's look like smu.
Get it? The gness is missing.
Yes.
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