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Clint Eastwood has made some fabulous films (Unforgiven, Mystic River, Letters from Iwo Jima). He’s made some films that aren’t quite fabulous, but are marvelously entertaining (The Outlaw Josey Wales, Million Dollar Baby, Grand Torino). And he’s made some terrible films (Blood Work, Absolute Power, True Crime, etc.) Before this afternoon, however, I can’t recall having been bored to tears by a Clint Eastwood movie. To say that the film sinks beneath the weight of its own pretension really understates the matter; it sinks, gets refloated, hits an iceberg, sinks again, and gets torpedoed on the way down. Then it hits an uncharted rock. Then it sinks into the mud.

That said, fitting 164 minutes of rugby action into a 134 minute film does represent a certain kind of cinematic achievement. I can thank Clint for the life lesson I learned today; I find rugby staggeringly boring.


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