James Marsh's The King is a film that mystifies me. I can't think what its meant to be for. It's a story about a young man called Elvis played by Gael Garcia Bernal who gets an honourable discharge after 3 years Navy service and then goes off to find his biological Father and behaves dishonourably with him and his family. It's all rather sick really. Elvis worms his way into the family by seducing his 16 year old sister Malerie (Pell James). It's rather impossible to identify with anyone in this film from here in Middle England. Preacher Father and bouncy joyful Christian Congregation; I couldn't work out whether the film is meant to be deriding them for their mindless beliefs. Or is the target the happy family and we are meant to think that's unviable. OR is it just saying that some people are lost and just hell bent on destruction. It's shallow. We all know that bad things happen; the interesting bit is to learn why but this film just gratuitously depicts a violence without ever unravelling the thinking that has led to it. "The King" is such a lost opportunity. There are some really interesting questions about honour; the Warrior Code; the changing concepts of valour; honour killings in Indian families and so on. Honour is a very varied concept. But this film just adds nothing to the notion. However, Paul the Projectionist did more than his meagre role suggests. The DVD Projector showed all films in a green-only hue and the only way to repair this was to get it sent to Belgium. He did this through Christmas. I think those postal workers and repairers and Paul went far beyond the call of duty and our reward was this dismal film. But you might see it differently?