Colin Firth was so good as Fitzwilliam Darcy in the BBC miniseries of Pride and Prejudice that we have felt duty-bound to watch his movies--at least on DVD--since. It's not been good. A fine actor, but strange casting and often even stranger vehicles.
In the latest, "Where the Truth Lies", it's really not his fault. He does a truly excellent job with his role. But the film as a whole... one plot point was so implausible that I could not get past it and just watch the movie.
You see, I know lobsters. My great-uncle Phil used to take me to eat lobsters at the Marblehead Yacht Club. My great-uncle Jack had lobster pots offshore of his house in York. I know what lobsters are. They are scavengers.
A key plot point in "Where the Truth Lies" has the body of the murdered ingenue being shipped from Florida to New Jersey--in a crate full of live lobsters.
Lobsters are scavengers.
Her body would never have gotten to New Jersey. There would have been a lot of fat, happy lobsters in the crate.
I don't know what the moral is. Perhaps that screenplays that involve lobsters should only be written by people from New England? And not by Anglenos? Let the Angelenos write screenplays about abalone...