Yeah, I guess.
Writer and Photographer.
Probably testament to how good the show is that at one point Jon Hurt is frolicking is a resplendent golden nappy and bra to the sick beats of glam opera, and I was wrapped in genuine horror.
You can level all the critique you might want at the shot-on-studio-video quality, that'll never be a nixed mark against me, everyone was on absolute form here. 13 hours of baller telly.
Gods/Jove, Blessed could act once without defaulting to form, and he was bloody good at it too.
To put this into perspective for my fellow Europeans Sorkin has directed a movie so disingenuous to the events that occurred at the ‘68 Democratic Convention that it would be like watching a dramatic hate peace about the events of Bloody Sunday directed by royalist mooch Tom Hooper.
Sick, nasty filth.