Iron Man, American Gods and my inner 7 year old boy

For anyone who hasn't yet read a book by Neil Gaiman, (you know, the bloke responsible for comic book series Sandman, and Stardust among other things) then I highly recommend that you pop out and purchase the fantastic American Gods.

Man, what a fascinating and pleasurable read this chunky number is. Have to admit, I was pretty shocked when I realised, (about page 30...) that this was a little more twisted and decidedly adult than the sugar coated style of Stardust - and that's why I'm loving it.

I keep thinking how fantastic it would be on the big screen, but... I suspect this would require either a very brave studio (!) and director, or so many cuts to the details of key scenes that American Gods would lose much of it's twisted, alluring flavour.


As a little girl, I always preferred transformers, nintendo, etch-a-sketch, danger mouse and boys to pink, dollies, and handbags. In fact the pink on this blog is the closest you're ever likely to get me to the colour. I'm really just a seven year old boy.

So, I was secretly looking forward to seeing Iron Man, with Nog, (my man, Noggin the Nog) this weekend.

The first twenty minutes were pretty borderline: any super hero movie attempting to locate itself in the setting of real life trauma (Afghanistan) is going to feel awful - particularly during a scene where a dying man, amidst the gun toting, cave dwelling fighters, is seen lying on a big sack of USA aid.

Just about ready to position my head on my hand, and this despite the definite charms of aloof, sharply humoured Robert Downey Jnr, it (thankfully) started to unfold into something more unusual and hip than the classic 'red white and blue blow away the baddies!'.

The film knows it's (poor) potential, and in hindsight the first 20 minutes were playing up to this - so when things shift more cynically and the characters kick in, things start to get interesting.

Downey Jnr plays Tony Starks, a billionaire bachelor, inheriter of his fathers arms legacy, fortune and engineering genius. His character is so ridiculously cliched and egotistical, (think of the drinks cabinet in the Pimms ad popping up during a weapons demonstration in front of US generals) that it takes all of Downey's appeal to make him humourously bad rather than just shallow and annoying, but again this turns out to be point.

His abduction during transport by Afghan fighters - determined to force Starks into building his leathal Jericho missile for their own use, from materials provided in the cave they keep him in for three months - fundamentally changes his approach to the arms business, having witnessed the autrocity caused against both sides, by US arms sold for profit.

Upon his escape, he returns to his business and home in Malibu, and sets about announcing that his billion dollar arms firm will no longer be producing weapons for use in war... well I think you can imagine the reaction of his partner, played by Jeff (look I've got no hair!) Bridges.

The role of Virginia 'Pepper' Potts could so easily have been a bland, two dimensional character - but Gwyneth Paltrow was brilliantly chosen for this role; she's got a maturity and sweetness, which with the sharp delivery of her lines and general loveliness, adds a genuinely warm, appealing feeling to the film. This is complimented with Downey Jnr in the central role - he is perfect for the film, and it's good that his flaws are not lost once the action paces up and his suit comes to life. He's looking older, his eyes tell a whole other story, and Downey is such an engaging and likable actor that the two of them - with the help of some great visual comedy and impressive, not too over the top special effects, these factors combine, (cue brilliant soundtrack... I bet Marvel and Favreau were grinning from ear to ear knowing that Black Sabbath's incredible song was out there, just waiting to fit) and steal the show.

And you should have seen the look on my face when I realised that Swinger's Jon Favreau directed... hehehe... I'd have never guessed.

I'll spare the rest of the plot details to save completely spoiling the it for those of you who haven't seen it, but just know that Iron Man was great. Two hours, or there abouts, actually felt a little two short. Nog and I were both wanting more, so we gladly await the sequel. I'd love to think that Favreau can stick around for the next one.

Night Night.