Don’t get me wrong. I love chick flicks just as much as the next, umm, chick. In fact, I can go as far as saying that some of my favorite movies of all time are chick flicks (read: Sex and The City The Movie, Little Black Book – the list could go on and on).

Recently, however, I’ve been starting to realize that I actually enjoy guy flicks more. No, I’m not talking about mind-numbing stuff like Die Hard or Hitman (God, no!), nor do I count blockbusters because everyone’s obliged to enjoy them, anyway. I’m talking about movies so male that female members of the cast – if there are even any – hardly ever figure in the story, let alone the dialogue.

It’s a bit sexist, I know, but enjoyable nevertheless. Take the Ocean‘s series, particularly Ocean’s Eleven and Ocean’s Thirteen, for instance. What would one notice, apart from the brilliant cast and glitzy Vegas hotels? Why, the extremely witty repartee, of course! I’ve always loved films with fantastic dialogues, and these two do not disappoint. Neither do The Fight Club, Lucky Number Slevin, and The Italian Job.

I would definitely say, however, that the best ones are probably the British ones – Snatch, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, RocknRolla, Dog Soldiers, and Layer Cake. It’s hard not to enjoy the over-the-top cursing, the almost exaggerated machismo, and plots so fast that you’d feel like you’ve just run a marathon. Yes, where else can you find a guy who has the presence of mind to say, “I hope I give you the shits, you fucking wimp!” just as a ravenously hungry werewolf is about to devour him? It’s a classic to be found only in bravado-packed guy flicks.

The Husband, being British and being someone with a rather excellent collection of movies, would naturally take credit for my newfound appreciation of movies that I’ve never even heard of barely 2 years ago. It’s definitely a well-deserved credit, especially since I plan to watch more of his collection.

But I still draw the line on Die Hard and Hitman.