Well it was a weekend mostly turned over to Christmas admin. But I managed to duck out for two hours (along with all the hours spent fruitlessly drinking...) to see Me and Orson Welles.

Of this, I had no expectations. Russell's wise choice. I'd done no prior research. Had no idea what I was about to see. I'd even forgotten the precious appearance by young Mr Efron. But I felt the title was promising.

In fact, good title, pretty looking film, nice pretending to be Orson from Christian McKay (not that I have extensive Orson experience with which to compare it) but a thin thin plot.

Zac is pretty. He meets a pretty, quirky looking girl. He is prettily picked up on account of being pretty by less pretty Orson who desperately needs a final actor for his production of Julius Caesar, due to open that week on Broadway. Pretty hangs about looking soulful and strumming a ukulele dressed as a loot. Orson hangs about having affairs and looking angry. Pretty meets other pretty girl, less quirky, more just pretty. They speak a lot together about pretty things.

The show is shit. Boy Pretty accidentally sets off the sprinkler system. Orson is angrier. Boy Pretty cleverly avoids being sacked. Orson sleeps with Girl Pretty. Boy Pretty is angry and confronts Orson. Orson uses him to perform (masterfully) in the opening night then sacks him. Boy Pretty at last realises that the world is unjust. But luckily he's still pretty.

The end.

It looked great. Judicious use of that signature 1930s red lipstick. But I wouldn't rush to see it.