Meaning India and Cary Grant. Okay, I honestly prefer James Stewart to Cary in terms of looking good in movies, but... No, you know what, I can't make that kind of decision. It would be barbaric to do so. I can love them both.
And Ravi Teja is still hotter than the two of them combined.
I watched Gunga Din when we got home from the grandparents' house. Most racially offensive movie I've ever seen, my god. I was going to text K when I saw the back cover because the synopsis included the fact that the main issue was that some Indian guys were part of this bloodthirsty cult that worshipped the Hindu goddess Kali (who had some intense fascination with killing people), and he was the one who taught me about Kali in the first place, but I'm glad I didn't because I would be embarrassed if he ever looked up the movie. It was that disgusting.
The entire movie basically consisted of Cary and some other British guys with those nasty late-nineteenth-century mustaches, constantly beating up like ten riled-up "Indians" at a time, never mind the fact that the latter were wielding guns and riding temperamental elephants. It was so stupid and clearly the Indian guys were going to lose, but I got so sick of Cary strangling and roundhouse-kicking five men per second that I wished he would just fall in a hole or blow up or get trampled or something.
The Brits did this while simultaneously throwing around sticks of dynamite and riding horses and coming up with witty comments as bony little guys in turbans and beards ran around with bayonets—all right, the other two guys were stiffs. The witty commentary was just Cary. That guy is just too perfect for words. He's definitely in the top five on my Attractive White Guys list.
I digress. I cynically type "Indians" because none of those sonuvabitches were even Indian, and that is just wrong. For god's sake, the title character, Gunga Din, was played by an elderly Jew! They must have blackfaced themselves or something. It was gross. When I wasn't trying to gore my eyes out using my barrettes (the only relatively sharp things I ever have on hand) because of how terrible the movie was, I kept thinking, "Jesu', and to think I watched Gandhi last night. Puts this goddamn production to shame. Dressing fat, middle-aged white men in turbans and loincloths does not make an instant India. To shame, I tell you.
And Ravi Teja is still hotter than the two of them combined.
I watched Gunga Din when we got home from the grandparents' house. Most racially offensive movie I've ever seen, my god. I was going to text K when I saw the back cover because the synopsis included the fact that the main issue was that some Indian guys were part of this bloodthirsty cult that worshipped the Hindu goddess Kali (who had some intense fascination with killing people), and he was the one who taught me about Kali in the first place, but I'm glad I didn't because I would be embarrassed if he ever looked up the movie. It was that disgusting.
The entire movie basically consisted of Cary and some other British guys with those nasty late-nineteenth-century mustaches, constantly beating up like ten riled-up "Indians" at a time, never mind the fact that the latter were wielding guns and riding temperamental elephants. It was so stupid and clearly the Indian guys were going to lose, but I got so sick of Cary strangling and roundhouse-kicking five men per second that I wished he would just fall in a hole or blow up or get trampled or something.
The Brits did this while simultaneously throwing around sticks of dynamite and riding horses and coming up with witty comments as bony little guys in turbans and beards ran around with bayonets—all right, the other two guys were stiffs. The witty commentary was just Cary. That guy is just too perfect for words. He's definitely in the top five on my Attractive White Guys list.
I digress. I cynically type "Indians" because none of those sonuvabitches were even Indian, and that is just wrong. For god's sake, the title character, Gunga Din, was played by an elderly Jew! They must have blackfaced themselves or something. It was gross. When I wasn't trying to gore my eyes out using my barrettes (the only relatively sharp things I ever have on hand) because of how terrible the movie was, I kept thinking, "Jesu', and to think I watched Gandhi last night. Puts this goddamn production to shame. Dressing fat, middle-aged white men in turbans and loincloths does not make an instant India. To shame, I tell you.
YOU LOVE JAMES STEWART TOO? I think we need to talk because I was just stalking his Wikipedia page yesterday. He was such a decent guy in real life...only got married once and it didn't end in divorce! You know, in Hollywood that's an accomplishment.
ReplyDeleteOH MY GOD YES HONEY WE GOTTA DISCUSS!
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