Fourplay

Not a true representation of us Brit's, I do not think, (hope!) but then I am not a Londoner. It's very quirky and has a honest feel in it's style, and some lovely shots of London, beautiful lighting, gives it this dreamy glow.

Bit of a fore runner for love actually this film.

Colin Firth fan's, looking for Mr Darcy fans will be disappointed, more the Fever Pitch character here probably, but he plays it brilliantly as usual.

It is a really modern, deep look at relationships, which could tee of some great conversations.

Also very funny in places, Stephen Fry is so funny as the therapist and Jack Dee is his usual wonderful self, although it is strange to see him sharing a stage.

Definitely worth a watch this film.

There's not much to it except for beautiful people (Mariel

Hemingway) and a few funny situations. Not so funny is a

repetitive theme of unprovoked violence, which was passed off as

slapstick but proved more painful than funny.

The one scene was the couple in the marriage counsellor's office,

only the counsellor was a personnel counsellor and a hapless

chap that was clearly over his head, especially when the lovely lady

straight-facedly asked the counsellor to ask her husband, why

does he not like to kiss me between my legs like he used to. After

a go-around like that, she asked the counsellor to ask her

husband why he doesn't want her to make love with him with her

mouth anymore. "Ask him all the places where I do it." The park,

the Metro... "THE METRO?"

That's the funniest part about a half hour before the end. It's all

downhill after that.

I like Mike Binder quite a bit, from "Mind of the Married Man" (apparently, I was the only one) to "The Sex Monster." So, I was eager to see "Londinium" when it came up on HBO the other day. I went in with ZERO expectations and was pleasantly surprised. Which is to say that there were several parts of the film which were slow, and others where I was laughing out loud. Seven or eight out of 10.

Mike Binder must have had some kind of seriously serious blackmail-worthy information on Colin Firth. There is no other way to explain why he'd allow himself to complete a single scene in this film without walking right off and calling a lawyer.

I only decided to watch this movie because Firth was in it, and hoped for a smart film that would distract me with voyeuristic moments into American-English cross-culturalism. Instead, one improbable scene after another violently attacked my intelligence, as Bender starts an affair with Margeaux Hemingway, who's married to Firth, who falls for Bender's wife. Hemingway and Bender then try to bait their spouses into an affair, which they then regret, compounded by the fact the the spouses fall in love with each other.

The consistent nonsense of this film comes from the humanly improbable scenarios, and the pervasive personality disorders of each character with no context whatsoever. Firth apparently is trying to come across as a cuckold, who likes "letting off steam" by violently beating up unsuspecting(?) staff who consistently meet with him after work in a pub. No cops, no witnesses, no suing, no quitting - just violence then "see ya at work tomorrow." Bender is just an idiot writer whose interests, goals, motivations and drive seem to shift schizophrenically in every scene. His wife is a control freak he and Firth can't seem to get over, while Hemingway plays a neurotic narcissist actress that everyone keeps tolerating. The nuttiness of this movie is compounded by the attempt at a romantic ending, which only leaves you dazed, confused and convinced that you will regret having ever donated 2 hours of your life to this movie.

In the credits, Binder adds "This Movie is for Dyno, I Love You..." Dyno, if this is representative of Binder's love, then you need to develop an escape plan. And hopefully, you missed the film he dedicated to you.

Other than saccharine shots of West London, if that appeals to you, and a lesson in "how not to do it" this film has relatively little to offer. The problem is in the writing. Many scenes are badly written, painfully unfunny - such as the sessions with the Stephen Fry's "labour relations" counselor -, or simply misjudged - the late night pub brawl which seems to be trying to reprise the excellent fight at the end of Bridget Jones' Diary, but looks more like a sick sub-Ritchiesque gangland denouement. To their credit, the actors do a good job with the material they are given. The plot is promising, and somewhere there was a good film in here but one feels that combining the roles of writer, director and lead actor lead to a fatal loss of internal critical tension.