The Three Musketeers

Directed by Paul W.S. Anderson

Starring Logan Lerman, Matthew MacFadyen, Ray Stevenson, Luke Evans, Mads Mikkelsen, Christoph Waltz, Milla Jovovich, Juno Temple, Freedie Fox, and Orlando Bloom.

After last week’s dose of seriousness, it was time to get back on the debauchery track with guest movieboozer Becky.

Those of you who know me also know that I have a staunch “no chicks” policy when it comes to boozy Wednesday. This goes back to late last year when my hoss James and I decided to bring our respective dates to boozy Tuesday (as it was known at the time) and it was like they needed to have the rules explained to them. The two were essentially competing to have the highest profile with their outdoor-voice jibber-jabber. In all my years of movie drinking I have never once been thrown out of a theatre and bringing broads on a boozy Tuesday excursion nearly brought the streak to a bitter end. Everyone loves a drunk, but no one loves a loud, obnoxious one.

Wednesdays: 1; Broads: 0

It was meant to be a sober night, but The Three Musketeers was the only film playing at an appropriate hour and there was no way I was sitting through that piece of shit cold sober. The decision turned out to be a good one, with that movie now joining my ever-expanding “Things one mustn’t do sober” list along with swimming, trans-Atlantic flights, and donating blood (it doubles the drunk instantly and it’s FREE!!).

A reboot of Alexandre Dumas’ swashbuckling classic, The Three Musketeers revolves around a 17^th century trio of King Louis’ guard who refuse to throw down arms after their regiment is disbanded. They choose instead to become outlaws and antagonise the power-hungry Caridnal Richilieu as he tries to expand his influence and seize France’s reins.

1993: Fencing

2011: Winning

Several adaptations of the film have been made and this one had me wishing for the good old days when Kiefer and Charlie Sheen ruined people’s shit. Let me repeat that: this made me wish I were at a Disney movie with Charlie Sheen in it. To his credit, the guy has fucking Tiger Blood ™ and porked Denise Richards for a good coupla years but a heroic French swordsman he is not. You know your day is done when Ashton Kutcher is filling your shoes (and getting stronger ratings). The good news is he’s probably so coked out of his mind he thinks he’s being Punk’d and he’ll return to set soon enough.

Come hither, Fräulein

All digressions aside, however, this is probably the silliest, most absurd movies ever made in terms of historical shenanigans, ham-fisted dialogue, tedious rivalries, and its multiple distortions of the laws of physics. For serious, if Albert Einstein had been sitting in the back row at this movie I would have gone over to give him a huge hug and tried to feed him consolation beer, both because The Three Musketeers single-handedly undoes the progress humankind has made in the last century and the prospect of seeing Einstein ripped, heckling North London girls and asking if they’d like to take a ride on his lip-ferret is probably the funniest thing I would ever see. I swear, I would die happy.



Instead of exclusively rocking the Hatorade™ on this movie and acting all clever in my derision of it (as critics do), I’m going to praise its drunken value. Milla Jovovich made enough appearances to keep DrunkBen happy, Orlando Bloom is fun to throw popcorn at, you can guffaw at ANY MOMENT during this movie (believe me you’ll want to) and it won’t be objectionable, and the actors who play King Louis and d’Artagnan in this movie are such a laughable little bitches that you’ll feel warm and secure in your manhood by the end credits. For serious, King Louis’ most pressing concern throughout the entire film is what colour to wear.

Any gayer and he'd be a picnic basket

I must again caution you against seeing this movie sober; the results could be catastrophic. During one of the action set-pieces (none of which are eventful, somehow) I heard some hella loud gunfire behind me and thought “Nice! The fucking surround sound is kicking in! This movie is awesome!” But as it turns out some poor bastard four rows behind me had nothing to drink and decided to eat a bullet, exit stage left Hemingway-style. Mad props to him for holding out as long as he did. Thrust into the same position I would have bought 37 boxes of Junior Mints and committed Type II Diabetes suicide or asked an overweight person in the cinema to sit on my chest until I died of positional asphyxiation.

The movie is long so bring lots of beer with you and maybe a catheter. Becky and I had great laughs during the first few acts until she passed out cold in her seat around the 74^th minute, awoke on the 92^nd and spent the rest of the flick in the ladies’ room. So the “no chicks” rule is back on, sisters. Maybe I’ll consider some applications next year.

Damage: 4/10 (Pre-movie: 3 measures Glenkinchie 12yo; During: 2 x 500 ml Heineken)

Boozy rating: 8/10 (Don't get me wrong, it's a shit film but an absolute boozy guilty pleasure)

Next week: Drive