Caribbean sex chat - Dating in the dark reviews

The record-label boss Tony Wilson famously - infamously, even - described the suicide of Joy Division's lead singer, Ian Curtis, as the ultimate career move.There are those who might say the say thing about Heath Ledger.

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He is, it seems clear, a twisted firestarter, a self-proclaimed "master of chaos", a conceptual artist fuelled by a love of anarchy rather than mere money.

The city authorities are doing their best to appease public fears.

He calls himself a "freak", a word that in the Sixties was used approvingly to refer to adventurers and outsiders.

When he speaks there's often a slurpy quality to his consonants - as opposed to Batman's gravelly voice - that sounds as if he's being asphyxiated; he's moist, mobile, alive.

Gangsters, decked out in clown clothes in bleak near-homage to the Joker, stage a bank robbery during which they begin to shoot one another to get a larger cut of the money.

Very soon, like a malevolent deus ex machina, the only clown left standing turns out to be the Joker himself.

Other reservations: shouldn't Nolan, marvellous as his directing here is, be creating original films rather than rebooting and retooling franchise fare?

Why can't Hollywood put a tenth as much of the craft and vim into its average releases as it does into what is ultimately only a superhero movie?

It's claimed that Ledger, on hearing that Philip Seymour Hoffman had won an Oscar for his role in Capote, said: "I thought the award was for best acting, not most acting." Some may think he's guilty of the same thing here, twitching and flicking and moving through tics and gestures for the hell of it. Ledger's Joker is in part a triumph of cosmetics: his face is caked in paint and powder that's cracked and peeling and wrinkle-creased; his red gash of a mouth is at once funny and horrific; his eyes are rimmed with black like abandoned wells; his scarecrow hair reminiscent of a crack-addicted Worzel Gummidge.

The make-up robs him of the rangy, callow youth he has always had since he was first seen in 10 Things I Hate About You.

This works against Bale, whose martial-arts work - the product of months of training - is shot in such grungey light and in tight, micro-edited close-ups that its impact is dulled.

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