Of the countless movie opening scenes I’ve watched (nay endured), nothing comes remotely near the thrill of Dom Hemingway.
The audacity of the lines, the expressions on Jude Law’s face and the volcanic eruption at the end, oh, believe me, it’s a timeless, peerless moment.
Yeah, the ‘unluckiest son of a bitch in the world’ grabs you by the cojones and just won’t let go. 😉
Is my cock exquisite?
Oh, cos I think it’s
I think it’s a fucking work of art.
Like a Renoir.
Or a Picasso.
The painting of my cock
should hang at the Louvre.
They should study my
cock in art classes,
spend whole courses
studying the splendid contours of
its exquisiteness, don’t you think?
They should also study
my cock in science class
cos it defies nature.
My cock is hard.
It’s metal, it’s steel,
It does not break.
It does not weaken.
My cock can stand all day
like a good soldier trying
to impress his superiors.
If my cock could win
a medal, it would.
If they could name a school
after it, it should.
If it could save small Somali
children from starving,
it would and should, and it’ll have
a Nobel fucking Peace Prize for it,
the first such prize
ever given to a cock.
My Nobel Prize-winning
cock’s like a cheetah,
all sleek and dangerous and deadly.
Sonnets should be written about
how dangerous my cheetah cock is.
Wars should be won over it,
kingdoms fallen because of it.
My cock is lightning. It is fire.
It is a volcano brewing with
the sacred semen, lava,
Sugar and spice and all things nice.
Sorry for the lack of warning, dearie.
Sometimes you expect ’em,
sometimes you don’t.
I stumbled upon Dom Hemingway (written and directed by Richard Shepard) while stalking Netflix’ new film aisles on a sleepless night recently.
Dom Hemingway falls under what those in the business refer to as the dark comedy genre.
You know the kind of movie where the hero/main character is actually a weird, nasty, foul-mouthed character bordering on the insane. Albeit, an interesting if not endearing guy in an odd way.
That’s what our eponymous ‘hero’ Dom Hemingway is. Snorting coke, banging double hookers, bashing people to pulp soon after leaving prison and playing nasty with a deadly Russian criminal.
When we spot him first, it’s in prison amid the clanking of cell doors. Dom’s been in the can a dozen years for a major crime, the details of which are never revealed.
Dom could have had a shorter term if only he’d ratted on the big fish.
So what if if he’s a criminal. Safe-cracker Dom Hemingway is made of different metal.
Ratting on accomplices is not the Dom way.
He keeps a tight clamp on the lips, serves his time and pays a heavy price in the bargain. Wife Keethy dies while he is inside and he misses out on only daughter Evelyn’s growing years.
Lady Luck smiles upon Dom after his release but, alas, only momentarily.
What Lady Luck giveth she quickly taketh away, leaving Dom in a bind so bad he’s willing to bet his beloved cock on cracking a safe!
British actor Jude Law is at his wicked best as the crazy, angry, fearless, penitent Dom Hemingway.
Sure, there are other actors around.
But make no mistake. Jude Law owns Dom Hemingway. An awesome performance the man will find hard to better.
Richard Grant is in good form as Dom’s friend Dickie as is Demián Bichir playing the menacing Russian criminal boss Mr.Fontaine.
The movie slows down a bit in the middle, after Dom’s release from prison, but gains steam again toward the end.
Richard Shepard is a marvellous writer. Dom’s lines crackle with brio and 10,000-volt vigor.
Giles Nuttgens is a solid talent behind the camera.
I doubt the film ever made it to a wide release in the U.S. Perhaps it debuted in a few art film houses in NYC, Los Angeles, Philly, DC and Chicago before beating a hasty retreat.
What a shame! Dom Hemingway deserved a bigger reception. A lot better.
SearchIndia.com is delighted to fling Dom Hemingway your way.
I bet you will thrill to it as much as moi.
Just French it, Baby! 😉