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THREE Treasure chest 
There’s no higher pretension operating here; I’m inline to see Three for two reasons and two reasons alone. Here’s a few clues; they’re big, they’re round and they belong to the leading man. No, not Billy Zane’s balls, I’m talking of course about the magnificent bosoms of his fine fiancee. Sometimes you go see a film for the story, sometimes you’re a fan of the director, and sometimes, just sometimes, you want to see naked girlies. I’m surrounded by dirty old men shuffling away in dark corners and pre-pubescent teens about to cop an eyeful of the best breasts in the business, but you know what? I couldn’t care less: when am I ever going to see Kelly Brook’s tits this large ever again?Scoff all you like, but a film like Three is almost critic proof: trying to critically assess a movie like this would be like an art critic attempting to analyse a child’s spastic dawbings or a music journalist attempting to find rhythm in a man bashing a dustbin lid on his head - it would be missing the point entirely. Three is a movie in so much as it has a story, characters and scenery, but that’s about it - it’s as close to a lad’s mag shoot brought to life as humanly possible, complete with luxurious shots of Rochester’s finest sprawled in the sputum and gratuitous scenes of Brook norkage that’ll be long remembered after Three sinks to the foot of the Blockbuster bottom shelf abyss. Jack (Zane) and Jenny (Brook) are a happily married couple out on a fishing trip with expendable friends, when their luxury yacht catches fire, forcing them to brave the ocean waves and hope for the best. Jenny washes up ashore a desolate desert island along with ship’s cabin boy Manuel (di Pace), a hunky Spaniard with washboard abs and a face for gay porn. When hubby Jack eventually arrives with the flotsam and jetsam, he naturally assumes that Manny is trying to make sex with FHM’s finest and goes a bit mental, forcing Jenny and her latino lackey to quit pouting and actually do something. Trapped on an island with an insane slaphead for company? You’d have thought the poor girl would have had enough of that on Celebrity Love Island with Paul Danan. “You’ve got an arse shaped like a perfect heart,” yells Manuel at the rear-end of mine and your wank fantasy. “Maybe that’s why God didn’t give you a real one!” He might be right, too; if you thought Brook looked a bit special in her magazine spreads, she’s even fitter in the flesh and she’s not afraid of unsheathing her weapons of mass distraction either (it’s a little hard to concentrate on proceedings when there’s the small matter of a dead heat in a zeppelin race fighting for your attention). Make no mistake; Three makes Swept Away look like high art, but you can’t possibly be under any preconceptions - you’re here for titties, and Three delivers a damn fine package for your viewing pleasure, with Brook rarely out of (or in) her tiny white bikini. Enough perversion, I’ve a job to do. Of course it’s terrible, you shouldn’t need to ask. Brook is not exactly Ursula Andress (although she does look mighty fine emerging from the big blue) but even she puts Billy Zane to shame, with his mugging and patented unhinged psycho act only proving a mild diversion from his shiny bald bonce. Di Pace completes the Bermuda triangle of naffness with a wooden role of IKEA proportions and the less said about the script, the better. This particular desert island is rather dull - there are no polar bears or men in underground hatches to be found here - and even though director Raffill has nature’s best movie set to play with, he still manages to make it look uninspiring and dreary for the most part. There are unintentional moments of hilarity to be found - the lobster that squeaks when speared underwater, the soft-porn soundtrack kicking in during a moment of beach-bound nudity - but apart from that, you‘ll find it difficult to remove your eyes (and mind) from the bountiful chest of Brook. When a movie starts to feel overlong at just over the hour mark, it can mean only one thing - this is a made for TV movie that got lucky. Go see it if you’re shameless, bored or fancy a shuffle, but stay away if you’re looking for a film with any cinematic qualities of note at all - you’ll find better storylines in Dear Deirdre and they‘re marginally more realistic. Two stars, then? Yes, there certainly is. And you're looking at them right now. Ali Posted on: 11/07/06 | Email: ali@theshiznit.co.uk  Click here to read and post comments (currently 0 comments) |
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November 21st 2008
BODY OF LIES
QUARANTINE
CHOKE
BLINDNESS
WALTZ WITH BASHIR
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New movies coming soon
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