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Angelina rocks! James McAvoy rocks!

Self never laughed so much in a movie, not since watching — hmm, the first Austin Powers movie? “There’s Something About Mary”? “The Transporter”?

Truly, this was the action movie to end all action movies.

If you’ve ever longed to see a woman who looks like Angelina Jolie suddenly materialize at your elbow while you’re standing in line at Long’s, waiting for a prescription for anxiety medication to be filled, this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever longed to see Angelina on top of a train do a graceful backward bend (at the knees) to avoid having head chopped off while train enters a tunnel, this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever wanted to see James McAvoy’s gorgeous mug get beaten to a bloody pulp by a beefy Spaniard/Transylvanian who calls him “Pussy,” then this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever wanted to know what it feels like to be submerged in a vat of wax, then this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever wanted to see Morgan Freeman get — Nay, self will with-hold information about what lies in store for Morgan Freeman, just for the moment.

If you’ve ever wanted to see a movie directed by a guy whose first name is “Timur,” then this movie is for you.

Self cannot possibly enumerate all the delights of this movie: the ricocheting bullets, the bombs strapped on rats, the back nude shot of Angelina showing that she has thirty-plus tattoos on backside alone, and that’s not even counting the ones which (self learned from reading Vanity Fair ) represent the birth place coordinates of all her large brood.

When self left the theatre, she decided that she would never be able to see another action movie, not for at least another six months, not unless they can promise delights as many and as varied as all of the above.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.