Tamara Drewe

I just went to the movies by myself for the first time in ages. When we lived in Glasgow I had membership to the big cinema there, which meant free movies all the time. Sometimes multiple times per day, and always multiple times per week.

I love that feeling of sitting on your own in the vast, anonymous theatre. You breathe out, you leave the chatter in your head to itself, and for the length of a film you are suspended. It’s my kind of meditation.

All I’m saying is, it was a nice treat. Great choice, too! I really loved this film.

It’s based on a graphic novel, apparently, which would be interesting to have a look at. It’s about a writers retreat in the arse end of nowhere. A gorgeous, thoughtful woman runs it, her smug prick (asshole/wanker/fuck) of a husband churns out crime novels (a girl once begged me never to use the term “churn out” in regards to my own writing, because it just perpetuates the stigma of genre fiction. I agree, except in this case it definitely applies. The film does have a bit of a go at genre fiction, but academia doesn’t escape unscathed either) and philanders on the side. Enter Tamara Drewe who’s had a nose job and returned to town. Throw in a rockstar boyfriend and some really, really bored teens, and sit back and enjoy the show.

It’s very British. Dry, unsentimental and with a walloping, dark sting in its tail. I think writers particularly will get a kick out of the writerly stuff, because it’s all so devastatingly true. Particularly the first scene made me laugh out loud and inhale my kitkat.

Also, two hours devoted to Gemma Arterton’s beauty is just fine, in my book.

About anna cowan

I look around, and here I am - housewife and aspiring romance novelist. This seems unexpected.
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