Stardust and glitter

I'm not normally a girly girl, but when it comes to fairytales I do have a tendency to revert to being a five-year-old, gazing up in wonder and amazement and a craving to believe and join in. Much the same manner, in fact, with which I imagine Tim staring at the iPhone.

Emma and I indulged our easily pleased childlike sides this evening with Stardust, which may well be my favourite movie of the year (I'm not sure I should be admitting that).

It's not really the schmaltz I enjoyed so much this time, although the magic and effects are pretty darned cool and it's a lovely new addition to the world's collection of fairytales. I do like a golden story with a happy feel to it. But with Stardust, it was more the fact it was just so bloody funny! And it wasn't the people you expected to make you laugh, either - Ricky Gervais, for example, is a bit by-the-by. It's Robert de Niro, in the most bizarre movie role I think I've seen him take on, Michelle Pfeiffer and her incredible self-confidence and Clare Danes, for once not simpering madly, who stole the show for me.

And Tristan, bless his heart! I don't think I've ever seen such effortless acting from this side of the pond. He's not emoting and try-harding, he's just there, being Tristan, amiable and stupidly charming and almost crying out for a bear hug. He's hilarious, believable and impossible to dislike. One of these days I'll get to work on the Museum of Cute I've been threatening to do for much of my adult life, and he will get his own little pedestal. Oh yes!