Thursday, April 5, 2012  2012 in Hindsight  Ciaran Hinds is a
great actor.  With a bitchin' 'stache.   He was the only thing
saving the dull-as-Bronte 1997 adaptation of Jane Eyre, in the
role of a mustachioed Mr. Rochester, doomed to snog a lethargic
Samantha Morton in under-lit rooms as a generic score listlessly
played on. (Gemma Jones was pretty good, too, but Mrs. Fairfax
is pretty awesome always) In camp masterpiece The Phantom of the
Opera, his hoarse singing voice and big hair endeared him to me;
in Munich, his performance as Carl, the bespectacled assassin we
find ourselves warming to, made a strong case for an Oscar
nomination. He didn't get it, and that sucks, because he was so
much better than most of that lineup.  Either way, it cemented
me as a fan for life. Which can be a bit of a double-edged
sword, really, because the Irish-born actor has become a "That
Guy", meaning he's cast frequently but rarely given things to
do. Much as I love Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, I was
disappointed in how smal