I have been an arts correspondent for some 23 years yet I have never been so profoundly moved by a piece of art as I was by the staggering Daddy’s Home 2.
Lean, Kurosawa, Ray, these are all masters of the art form and yet, watching Daddy’s Home 2 it feels as if the likes of Lawrence of Arabia and Ran were merely the clumsy stumblings of infants.
The day began in as unprepossessing a fashion as can be imagined.
A foreboding chill ran through me as I opened the latest email from the bumptious, flatulating oaf from Screen Idle
I was to critique a sequel to a Will Ferrell comedy.
I made my way through the dull drizzle that wreathed the town as it might wreath my very soul.
The foul multiplex is swamped with the appalling hoi polloi in their hellish sportswear gorging on crisps with a dreadful yellow mucus-like substance atop.
A take my seat with a due sense of apprehension and dread.
I was wrong. So wrong in my preconceptions.
Daddy’s Home 2 is an incredible work of beauty and quiet joy. A breath-taking insight into one of the most powerful relationships there is, that of fatherhood.
I was moved to tears, moved to examine my own relationship with my father, and moved to see the world in a different and more compassionate light by this magnificent work.
And the bit when the snowplough falls on a car is well funny.
Screen Idle star rating – there are not enough stars in the universe to properly award this magnificent film.
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