A 10 hour flight from Seoul to London, living in the non-time, non-place of the (very decent) Korean Airlines Boeing. This non-experience in a non-environment is exactly the right time to watch Hollywood films. The place where time drifts confusingly and illogically; where people behave very consistently but completely insincerely; where workers in the most unhealthy and grindingly repetitive, toxic jobs retain first-class skin care and make-up; where camaraderie is forced and dictatorial; where the network lives on completely independently of the people in it.All three of these films were completely preposterous: Oliver Stone tried to shoehorn a family drama into his torrent of stable-door moralising and his film's credibility drowned early doors; Clooney remains very watchable on a big screen (though this is a very poor re-heating of the leftover excitement from "Michael Clayton") but the story here vanishes in the vastly-cinematographed Italian hill-scapes; "The Town"'s producers could afford to supply enough excitement for a crime caper, but ran out of cash when they had to buy some character-development and writing talent.
All that sounds harsh, but I'm dreadfully jet lagged. 
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