For a movie that features fright-wigs, war elephants, monkeys and man-love, Alexander is surprisingly dull. Everything that could go wrong with it has gone wrong, and yet – it only fitfully reaches maximum hysteria. It may be something to do with Colin Farrell still sort-of believing he was in a credible star vehicle, or maybe because Oliver Stone can’t quite bring himself to launch Alexander into the stratosphere of camp. And it’s a shame, because Alexander could be a really good bad movie. Every scene is poised for kitsch. Is it schadenfreude to wish disaster on a movie? Or would relishing disaster have made Alexander great?
Every cop is Irish – not by birth or marriage; nothing superficial like that – but Irish where it counts: heart, fists, raw eyes, dirty mouth. WASP cops are counterfeit. You can’t cry and be a man if you’re a WASP. You can’t get in a “scrap” if you’re a WASP (for WASP’s, a “scrap” will always be assault and battery). Drinking is always a “problem” for a WASP. This isn’t to say all cops have to be white (being Irish), only that they need to be Men in a messy, violent, poetic way that’s stereotypically Irish. You can’t play golf and be a cop, is the gist. In the new cop movie, Pride and Glory, the NYPD is so Irish it’s a wonder they don’t piss Guinness.