Every time I read a movie magazine Peter Jackson seems to be raping my childhood. Lord of the Rings was bad enough, and The Hobbit will be worse – but not Tintin, please leave me that much.
It was bad enough finding out that Tintin’s Belgian creator Herge might have been a Nazi collaborator [Goddin, Philippe (2008) Hergé. Levenslijnen. Biografie. Moulinsart. pp. 330] but now Sir Peter will ruin it further with pompous overripe Hollywood bloat and obtrusive self-indulgent fanboyism.
However, it may just be the gayest film this side of Brokeback Mountain. Consider the evidence. Tintin is a snappy dresser with a quiff. He lives alone in a chateau (“Marlinspike” for heaven’s sake) with a sailor. He has a little white dog (who in the original French utters particularly camp and bitchy asides compared with the translation), his best woman friend is an opera diva, and he seems to spend most of his time running around in third world countries with young boys.