The Real Mandela & Pienaar

Rachel and I went to our first movie at a theater since parenthood.  We were planning on seeing An Education, but the theater was closed.  So in a late change, we went with a recommendation from my mother and saw Invictus at another Cinema.  And while our initial Netflix rating would have been a three star out of five, the movie has been nagging at me ever since.  It’s a similar feeling I had after watching two of Eastwood’s other films (Mystic River and Gran Torino).  They were dramatic, they were well shot, they had emotional music, and they had a feel of grandeur.  But something was missing.   When I told my mom this, she said I was too critical.  I actually conceded that she was probably right.  I mean, like I said, this was our first visit to a theater since the baby.  I’m a little edgy, with the lack of sleep.  And the person in the seat behind me was chewing the ice in her fountain soda.  So maybe the film really was great, and I was just in a bad place while watching it.  But then my favorite sports columnist weighed in on the exact subject and I’m pretty sure he nailed my frustration with the film.

Read Bill Simmons’ review of Invictus HERE (as well as his selection for top sports movies of the decade)

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