Yesterday was Good Friday in this part of the world and it was pretty good. A walk in the itchy spring fresh air along the fast-flowing Isar, swollen with melt water from the snow which until last week had plagued us abominably and then into a Wirtshaus for a few of their brewed-on-the-premises beers...
The world looks a lot better viewed through the bottom of a couple of beer glasses. Drinking in the afternoon though invariably leads to soporific tele-gawping slumped on the couch in the evening...so what was on offer?
Well, how about the Ten Commandments with Charlton Heston and Yul Brynner, a blockbusting bore from the fifties - the kind of film the phrase "...with a cast of thousands!!" was invented for - or if not that then how about four or five other miserable films about Jesus meeting his fate. According to these Hollywood epics humour did not exist in those ancient days...I think I would like to see 'The Life of Brian' on offer on Good Friday. But Bavaria takes its Easter dead seriously.
When I finally gained possession of the remote control after everyone had slunk off to bed I had the chance to do a bit of zapping...and low and behold, on Pro 7 here was that Easter classic 'Die Hard' (I found the name out afterwards being too slumped at that moment to get up and look in the tele guide). From the sweat and blood smeared all over Brucie's torso and arms it looked like I'd missed about fifteen minutes...and that was a stroke of luck cos it made the film mildly interesting for me trying to work out who everyone was and what the bleedin' hell was going on! I still don't know why Brucie took his shoes off...and who the bloke was in the stretch limo...but otherwise I got it pretty well sussed out.
Tell you what though, old JC could have done with a bit of this kind of fire in his belly on the way up to Golgotha...a couple of machine guns and a bomb or two would have ruined the Romans' day. But he film ran its course with incredibly bad marksmanship from the professional killers and some lucky escapes - well, impossible escapes really - culminating in a Hollywood "surprise" end, like Terminator, Godzilla or Hollow Man, to name just three. There we were at the end breathing a sigh of relief as Brucie wrapped his blood-stained arms around his (estranged?) wife when who should appear on the steps but the baddy we all thought was dead!! He was last shown hanging from a chain wrapped round his neck about twenty feet in the air under a ceiling which was about to explode with enough violence to blow off the top of the building and destroy two (?) three (?) or four FBI helicopters which were going to land on the roof...well, foolish we! He was only unconscious or perhaps meditating...maybe just lulled into sleep by the screams of panic all around him. So, he must have awoken - maybe the noise from the blast just above his head disturbed him! Just imagine it...you wake up with a strange feeling of not being in your own bed and then you realise...ha, of course...I'm swinging up in the air being strangled by a chain round my neck...oh yeah and there has just been a megatonic explosion above me...tsk, tsk...that'll teach me!
So he extricates himself from that bit of bother and still has the energy to snatch up a machine gun, run down thirty six or so flights of stairs and emerge from the lobby of the devastated building to a forecourt swarming with police, still burning with rage and a deep desire to blow Brucie to smithereens...and even the energy to let out a ferocious primal roar which is pretty daft under the circumstances as it alerts everyone to the danger. He gets shot of course...and for him, being just Charlie the professional murderer and not JC, the annointed one, this time there is no resurrection.