While watching The Fellowship of the Ring, I couldn't help looking at certain cast members running through the wilderness, and thinking "if only there were men like that around here..." For those of you that know where I live, you will understand the exact size of the gulf between fantasy and reality. The only problem with fantasies, is that there is always something to spoil them.
Take the aforementioned film. I know they are rushing across Middle Earth to battle evil. There is a undeniable nobility in this... but what about the smell? Did they stop to do the laundry? Did they take enough spare underwear for the trip? I know it is rather girly of me to point this out, but they didn't seem to have packed too much. The smell of fresh sweat can be unbearably sexy. Stale sweat is just, well... unbearable, really.
Another example: The Terminator.
I've always had a soft spot for Michael Biehn. Although many (including myself) think he peaked as the unfeasibly shaggable Hicks in Aliens, Kyle Reese was pretty damn sexy.
"I had a photo of you..." he told Sarah Connor. Well, I had a picture of Reese. It was a 10 x 8 black and white promo shot from the movie that I kept (along with other girly crap) in my bedroom; every time I looked at it, I wanted sex. In the picture, Reese was sitting, bare-chested, on the motel bed where he spent his productive night of passion with Sarah C. I loved that photo.
Then one horrible, horrible day, it finally struck me. He's still wearing the same trousers... You know, the pair he stole from the tramp in the alleyway. At least as I recall, the tramp was not going commando. I know Sarah was feeling undervalued and unloved (not to mention being hunted by a ruthless futuristic killing machine), but really?! Eeewwwwww.
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