The film follows Randy The Ram, a faded ex-big time wrestler on the downwards slope of his life. When I say 'follows' I mean it in the most literal sense. The camera seems to be endlessly filming Rourke's back as he wanders through his crappy life. I know why they've done it, to give the film a realistic and documentary feel, but it's pretty annoying: Will he, won't he, will he turn around! I hear the Oscars have included a few new categories this year; Best Male Back, Best Female Back, Best Supporting Back and Best Foreign Language Back. It's a watchable and enjoyable film in as much as watching someone continually fuck their lives up can be enjoyable. There are also a few too many cliches for my liking, his estranged daughter he never told he loved, his stripper girlfriend whom he never gets together with, his trailer park home that he is locked out of due to none payment of rent, etc. But one thing it does avoid is the obvious Hollywood happy ending. After a heart attack leaves the Ram reassessing his life and his lot, he tries to get out of the Wrestling circuit only to find that the thing he lives for is the roar of the crowd. The sudden end leaves you wondering if he survives the final fight against the 'Ayatollah'. It is also an interesting view of the smaller part of American Wrestling that you don't see on WWE.
Spoilers over. I used to watch the WWE Wrestling, it was great. People would slag me off for it; it's not real they'd say, the fights are faked they'd moan, it's all done to a script they'd whine. These were the same people watching Eastenders every week.
Sudoku played another gig this week, we were supporting Skorpulifur again, this time in a youth club in Hafnarfjörður. It went well although the sound coming through the monitors was very low and we fucked up a couple of times on some of the songs. Skorpulifur, however, were amazing again. The singer was wearing a dress and dancing like a Romanian Bear on a hot plate. I think we also doubled our crowd size as well, from eight to about fifteen...
Other upheavals this week was me moving in with Angelos. The lease on the original place had run out and the Alcoholic Jesus Freak was coming back from Denmark to spread the Good Word to the Heathen Icelanders, or something. Jo, Duncan and Roz all moved into a nice pad closer to town and I have moved about two minutes down the road to Kaplaskjolsvegur 89, Reykjavik 107, Iceland. You can send your emergency packages of tea here. This is the most difficult road name for a none Icelander to pronounce and was the reason why when I first arrived I would usually walk home from town after drinking, rather than try to tell a taxi driver where I lived.
I moved in on Friday and found that Angelos, being the feckless Greek that he is, preferred to sit in the dark than change the blown lightbulbs. A quick search of the premises rewarded me with a cache of lightbulbs so I set about changing all the blown ones. I was changing the one in my bedroom when there was a blue spark and the entire house was plunged into darkness. I'd been in the house for ten minutes and destroyed the place. A quick check of the fuse box revealed it was something bigger. I woke Angelos up and he called Sigur, the wife of Haldur the contractor, and she came over with her brother, who luck would have it was an electrician and was visiting her for the first time in weeks. He found the main house fuse box and there was light! Glory To Him On High! Angelos and I had both failed in our Alpha Male roles.
After this drama I went to Björgvin's birthday party which turned into an Arts and Crafts/Wrestling evening which was broken up by the arrival of five police officers. I headed into town after for lashings of more BOOZE. I have taken to using my Visa swipe card for most purchases, which is a very dangerous thing to do when out on the lash as you never know how much you're spending. When you make a purchase with the said card, you are given a receipt to sign. No one checks them and Angelos and I have taken to signing anything on the receipt when we are drunk. On Friday night, Bar 11 was visited by Mickey Mouse and Ronald Reagan.
