There a certain kind of science to choosing the Token Smokin' Hotties that go up here, you know. Despite evidence to the contrary it's not just about picking someone blessed with great genes - it's about telling a flipping story... or something.
Maybe not. Okay, if I'm being stricly honest then sometimes, yes, it is just about seeing James Franco in a wet shirt, but at other times, at least, there is something more than looks involved.
Enter exhibit... whatever-we're-up-to-now: young Sam Riley. Sure there's his big pouty lips, so plump and yielding you could use them as a waterbed; his delicious forelock of a hair-do that makes you want ruffle it until some sort of cows come home and his very aesthetically pleasing cheekbones suitable for use by primitive man as a cutting tool but there's something more there.
Take that look in his eyes - what IS that? Is it a amug what-are-you-looking-at-bint-face-I'm-running-late-to-fuck-a-supermodel gleam, or a nervous fuck-I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing-or-whether-my-new-film-is-any-good sort of a thing he's got going on?
I've got no idea but it's a nice ambiguity: a little bit Lost Boy, a little bit Delicious Fox. And that's what I like. Oh and the pouty lips.
3 comments:
I'll give you this one. He was very good in Control.
True dat. You'd go there.
Hmmm, don't know if I'd go there. I'd be flattered and politely decline.
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