Neowolf: movie to-be-starring the next generation's equivalent of tom servo, crow, and mike/joel
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHA.
whyyy? why the enormous but malodorous bouquet of film editorial techniques? why did the entire movie take place with a fog machine working its little heart out? obviously the characters were smokin'--their looks were pretty much all they had going for them--but did they also give off such an intense bodily heat due to their werewolfiness that they literally generated whiffs of steam in all situations?
it was ba-ha-had. the only thing it had going for it was kevin, and he died.
oh, spoiler, sorry.
also the girl band was cute, but their music was te-he-he-herrible. not as a-ha-hawful as neowolf's music, but...not...great.
and oh my god, the sheer amount of slow-mo kissing that should have been sexy but COMPLETELY WAS NOT. here's a tip, guys: kissing is awesome; bare flesh is awesome; but neither kissing nor flesh can carry your movie when they are completely in a vacuum. sort of in the same manner that amplification alone cannot make a heavy metal song much better than it already wasn't. the movie was the antithesis of awesome, to the point that even its medium-copious amounts of slow makeout and nonspecific nudity could not make it awesome. neowolf was the black hole of awesomeness, and even the awesomeness of naked people and kissing was annihilated in its suckage.
the best-worst part was definitely the relationships, which made no sense. the directions the characters gave each other came in at a very close best-worst second, however: "that hotel on the edge of town" (a direction that gay boy gives to main girl) does not appear to me to be uber-specific. it may just be me. maybe there IS only one edge to the town, and one hotel ON said edge--i don't live in santa wherever-the-heck-ica, i can't judge. i mean, this direction apparently conveyed something pretty exact to main girl, because not only did she find the hotel, but she found main guy's steam-filled hotel room without any appreciable effort. or maybe the NAME of the hotel she was directed to was "That Hotel on the Edge of Town hotel." catering to all edge-of-town stayers, The Hotel at the Edge of Town hotel is ironically situated in the main shopping area--get the comforts of center-of-town-ness without sacrificing your raucous living-town-on-the-edge vibe!
the other good-bad direction (from alpha wolf to gay guy) was something like, "turn off at the exit near to where our next show will be--you can't miss it."
yeah. bet i can.
i'll just type that one into mapquest.
mapquest is asking for a city or a zipcode.
what the hell, i'll give it one.
the first five results of looking up "the exit near to where our next show will be, san francisco, california" on mapquest are as follows:
1. New Leaf Service for Our Community
2. Church-The Nativity-Our Lord
3. EXIT 434A/DUBOCE/N
4. Our City (it's apparently located on howard)
6. Lance Shows Photographer
ok, lance shows photographer was 7th on the mapquest list, but 5 and 6 were just more freeway exits.
i know what the problem is here! i should have used googlemaps!
looking up "the exit near to where our next show will be" on googlemaps resulted in locations in oregon and tennessee. i guess the band neowolf owns a really fast tour bus. or perhaps their "next gig" was a temporal anomaly, and they were in two disparate places at the same space-time. a temporal anomaly that has had unspeakable ramifications. those ramifications being the unleashing of the movie neowolf. it is upon us, america! noooooo!! the gods of the threshold are angry!!! the spiky laughing idiot gods are released!!!!! QUICK, SOMEONE GET THE PORCUPONICON*!!!
anyway, don't watch neowolf unless you're interested in seeing a how's how of film editing--from slo-mo to oh hell no. or you're interested in a very cursory and somewhat (according to my friend) fictitious history of wolfsbane. or you want to watch action silver bullet forging! now with 47% less action for your ease of delugtition!
or you want to see actors who look, respectively, like rebecca gayheart, johnny depp, zac efron, brendan fehr, and james callis. but aren't.
*the porcuponicon is, i think, pete abrams' intellectual property, and is entirely awesome. sluggy freelance 4-eva.
i have a fever. blame the previous version of this blog post (much less lucid even than this one--which is saying something) on illness.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
hannah montana: goooo, pop cultural capital! gooooo!
Hannah Montana: the Movie: movie starring miley cyrus AS hannah montana!! or hannah montana as miley cyrus...whoah.
i've never seen the show (i SWEAR! no, i really haven't! don't you trust me?), and perhaps snobbishly, i was surprised by how much i liked this movie. or maybe it's not snobbish, because of the embarrassing amount of experience i've had with disney channel-style joints, from life-size to bratz.... the point is, having had some experience with the TERRIBLE AWESOMENESS that can result from bad bad bad marketed-to-children films, hannah montana: the movie was pretty much legitimately awesome. surprising? possibly. i don't know, because i haven't seen the show (really, i haven't. i really haven't).
first of all, miley cyrus is pretty fantastic. not sure i like her voice, but i really like the way she uses it. or used it in this movie. that's not a damning with faint praise, by the way. as a singer myself (you know, sort of), i think it's much more important how you sing that what you're working with--and that's been proved time and again. callas, for example. or johnny rotten. i like both of those singers better than miley cyrus, but that's a matter of personal taste. don't like most of the songs, but the way she sang "climb" was...good. really good. and i was completely into her acting. i thought all her choices were full of character, personal and original--i felt like she was really present in what she was doing.
not having seen the show (really, i totally haven't), i don't know if that was a product of the product of hannah montana: the franchise, or a product of some combination of the script and direction. again, i'm ABSOLUTELY NOT saying that some uber-talented director managed to draw a performance from miley cyrus that she never would have been able to accomplish without him--i felt like she was totally steering her own boat on the acting end of things. but the performances were pretty universally good, which, again, because i have experience with such things, i am qualified to say, is not always the case with disney-style movies.
allow me to stretch my imagination for a minute and say that what i feel like happened was:
a., the director came upon a quasi-ready-made cast, because of the show being a longstanding sort of thing.
b., the director was like, okay, let's get into these roles!
c., the director was maybe somewhat surprised by what the cast was capable of bringing to their parts.
d., the director was like, "let's go with this. you guys are totally awesome."
does that sound condescending? i don't have as much experience with tween t.v. as i do with tween movies, so it's so very possible i'm totally wrong about the way hannah montana: the t.v. show carries itself. but, like, even the friends of the skateboard girl who blew up the cake had, like, a lot of depth to them--more depth than you'd necessarily find in the beta-female sidekick of the lead girl in a romantic comedy (oh, you know exactly what i'm talking about)--and they only got, like, five minutes of screen time, and i wasn't wild about the stuff they had to do.
maybe it's a t.v.-to-movie thing, when t.v.-to-movie is done right. like serenity. not all of the NINE main characters got as much time as one would have liked (kaylee and simon spring to mind), but there was a certain vibrancy about all of them, perhaps caused by their having had lives previous to the movie.
this also might explain why melora hardin character fell a little flat. usually i freaking ADORE melora hardin (17 again??? totally amazing performance! and that one episode of the office where she and michael go to the party together and she's kind of drunk and talking to the camera and you can see her coming apart at the seams because of the sharp-edged way she laughs--just so good), but in hannah montana: the movie, she didn't seem to be as grounded of a character as the rest of them (even billy ray cyrus, who i liked, but thought was pretty bad as an actor--again, liked what he did, just didn't think it was good acting), and it fell kind of flat. which was too bad. because she's so good.
anyway, i may not go straight to target and buy hannah montana: the sheet set or hannah montana: the waffle iron, but i really liked this movie. it was neat. it gives me faith in this miley cyrus-obsessed next generation. in my day we had britney spears, who was always pretty much a disaster (sorry if this seems harsh; i do root for her personally, and feel like fame has given her a REALLY tough time. but there are two pretty much irrefutable arguments as to her not-so-greatness: "email my heart," and crossroads. though i like her work on how i met your mother. i suppose, like everything, it's a delicate balance). whether or not you think miley cyrus has talent, she has heart, and a spark, which is more than can be said of a whole lot of cultural icons, pop or otherwise (i am talking to you, elvis costello. i am always talking to you. "i don't want to go to chelsea!" bah! get off the train!).
and if she doesn't actually have the heart or the spark, she at least knows the value of faking such things, which, again, is more than can be said for some.
but just to clarify, i personally think that she is talented and she does have heart and spark.
which is surprising in one whose face can be bought on bright pink bathroom towels.
and i think i might go rent the show now.
oh, god, the embarrassing confessions made possible by the interweb.
not sure who might find it ironic that i like hannah montana the movie but not billy eliot, and who might find it typical...and who would agree with me. thank you, by the way, one person in the universe who would agree with me. maybe we'll meet someday.
i've never seen the show (i SWEAR! no, i really haven't! don't you trust me?), and perhaps snobbishly, i was surprised by how much i liked this movie. or maybe it's not snobbish, because of the embarrassing amount of experience i've had with disney channel-style joints, from life-size to bratz.... the point is, having had some experience with the TERRIBLE AWESOMENESS that can result from bad bad bad marketed-to-children films, hannah montana: the movie was pretty much legitimately awesome. surprising? possibly. i don't know, because i haven't seen the show (really, i haven't. i really haven't).
first of all, miley cyrus is pretty fantastic. not sure i like her voice, but i really like the way she uses it. or used it in this movie. that's not a damning with faint praise, by the way. as a singer myself (you know, sort of), i think it's much more important how you sing that what you're working with--and that's been proved time and again. callas, for example. or johnny rotten. i like both of those singers better than miley cyrus, but that's a matter of personal taste. don't like most of the songs, but the way she sang "climb" was...good. really good. and i was completely into her acting. i thought all her choices were full of character, personal and original--i felt like she was really present in what she was doing.
not having seen the show (really, i totally haven't), i don't know if that was a product of the product of hannah montana: the franchise, or a product of some combination of the script and direction. again, i'm ABSOLUTELY NOT saying that some uber-talented director managed to draw a performance from miley cyrus that she never would have been able to accomplish without him--i felt like she was totally steering her own boat on the acting end of things. but the performances were pretty universally good, which, again, because i have experience with such things, i am qualified to say, is not always the case with disney-style movies.
allow me to stretch my imagination for a minute and say that what i feel like happened was:
a., the director came upon a quasi-ready-made cast, because of the show being a longstanding sort of thing.
b., the director was like, okay, let's get into these roles!
c., the director was maybe somewhat surprised by what the cast was capable of bringing to their parts.
d., the director was like, "let's go with this. you guys are totally awesome."
does that sound condescending? i don't have as much experience with tween t.v. as i do with tween movies, so it's so very possible i'm totally wrong about the way hannah montana: the t.v. show carries itself. but, like, even the friends of the skateboard girl who blew up the cake had, like, a lot of depth to them--more depth than you'd necessarily find in the beta-female sidekick of the lead girl in a romantic comedy (oh, you know exactly what i'm talking about)--and they only got, like, five minutes of screen time, and i wasn't wild about the stuff they had to do.
maybe it's a t.v.-to-movie thing, when t.v.-to-movie is done right. like serenity. not all of the NINE main characters got as much time as one would have liked (kaylee and simon spring to mind), but there was a certain vibrancy about all of them, perhaps caused by their having had lives previous to the movie.
this also might explain why melora hardin character fell a little flat. usually i freaking ADORE melora hardin (17 again??? totally amazing performance! and that one episode of the office where she and michael go to the party together and she's kind of drunk and talking to the camera and you can see her coming apart at the seams because of the sharp-edged way she laughs--just so good), but in hannah montana: the movie, she didn't seem to be as grounded of a character as the rest of them (even billy ray cyrus, who i liked, but thought was pretty bad as an actor--again, liked what he did, just didn't think it was good acting), and it fell kind of flat. which was too bad. because she's so good.
anyway, i may not go straight to target and buy hannah montana: the sheet set or hannah montana: the waffle iron, but i really liked this movie. it was neat. it gives me faith in this miley cyrus-obsessed next generation. in my day we had britney spears, who was always pretty much a disaster (sorry if this seems harsh; i do root for her personally, and feel like fame has given her a REALLY tough time. but there are two pretty much irrefutable arguments as to her not-so-greatness: "email my heart," and crossroads. though i like her work on how i met your mother. i suppose, like everything, it's a delicate balance). whether or not you think miley cyrus has talent, she has heart, and a spark, which is more than can be said of a whole lot of cultural icons, pop or otherwise (i am talking to you, elvis costello. i am always talking to you. "i don't want to go to chelsea!" bah! get off the train!).
and if she doesn't actually have the heart or the spark, she at least knows the value of faking such things, which, again, is more than can be said for some.
but just to clarify, i personally think that she is talented and she does have heart and spark.
which is surprising in one whose face can be bought on bright pink bathroom towels.
and i think i might go rent the show now.
oh, god, the embarrassing confessions made possible by the interweb.
not sure who might find it ironic that i like hannah montana the movie but not billy eliot, and who might find it typical...and who would agree with me. thank you, by the way, one person in the universe who would agree with me. maybe we'll meet someday.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
the last exorcism, or, how ELSE to give that "the creeping terror" monster indigestion
The Last Exorcism: movie starring the hand cam of a palsied man
before i go into a lot of material (which i'm going to enjoy doing, b-t-dub, so much) about the documentary style of filming a horror movie, i'm going to say what i thought of the movie. this is quite simple: i liked it. very much. i thought it was quite sympathetic, and the acting was great. NOT a "set 'em up, knock 'em down," this was more of a "when you are a linen-suited preacher looking into the void, the void is looking into your linen suited self as well" kind of thing. it was real good.
i think. i did have to skip about half of it, either through bodily absence or else by closing my eyes, because the camera WOULD NOT STAY STILL. in normal circumstances, even when i haven't eaten a whole passel of mall food and topped it off with reese's pieces, this style of cinematography isn't the kindest to my intestines. but in this case, it was just such an extra-special experience.
"bon" mots related to this second aspect of the movie are as follows (and there's nothing after these, so if you want to stop reading, go ahead):
-pumas. highly endangered. don't endanger them further by renting them from the zoo and strapping cameras to their backs and then having them film your movie for you. in fact, while you're at it, don't rent those monkeys that swing from tree to tree either. and if you're going to use elephants, don't attach the camera to the trunk.
-i am familiar with the term "jazz hands" from bring it on--it may be a legitimate dance thing, but why are you applying it to cinematography, camera guy? too busy fosse-ing to mockumentarize the horror as it deserves? are you actually IN chicago? is the director using your footage to check up on how well you've learned the dances? are you going over it now? "keep that camera hand circling nice and tight," he or she is telling you. and you did. congratulations.
-it's called a tripod. paranormal activity had one. spoiler: granted, having one got that dude killed, but spoiler: not having one doesn't do you much good either.
no, it was good. but you got to treat it like that hotbox yoga.
before i go into a lot of material (which i'm going to enjoy doing, b-t-dub, so much) about the documentary style of filming a horror movie, i'm going to say what i thought of the movie. this is quite simple: i liked it. very much. i thought it was quite sympathetic, and the acting was great. NOT a "set 'em up, knock 'em down," this was more of a "when you are a linen-suited preacher looking into the void, the void is looking into your linen suited self as well" kind of thing. it was real good.
i think. i did have to skip about half of it, either through bodily absence or else by closing my eyes, because the camera WOULD NOT STAY STILL. in normal circumstances, even when i haven't eaten a whole passel of mall food and topped it off with reese's pieces, this style of cinematography isn't the kindest to my intestines. but in this case, it was just such an extra-special experience.
"bon" mots related to this second aspect of the movie are as follows (and there's nothing after these, so if you want to stop reading, go ahead):
-pumas. highly endangered. don't endanger them further by renting them from the zoo and strapping cameras to their backs and then having them film your movie for you. in fact, while you're at it, don't rent those monkeys that swing from tree to tree either. and if you're going to use elephants, don't attach the camera to the trunk.
-i am familiar with the term "jazz hands" from bring it on--it may be a legitimate dance thing, but why are you applying it to cinematography, camera guy? too busy fosse-ing to mockumentarize the horror as it deserves? are you actually IN chicago? is the director using your footage to check up on how well you've learned the dances? are you going over it now? "keep that camera hand circling nice and tight," he or she is telling you. and you did. congratulations.
-it's called a tripod. paranormal activity had one. spoiler: granted, having one got that dude killed, but spoiler: not having one doesn't do you much good either.
no, it was good. but you got to treat it like that hotbox yoga.
fighting, or, how not to enunciate ever and still get your point across
Fighting: movie starring channing tatum as a tough guy with a sensitive side and a past, and terrence howard as a man in two pairs of pants
again, probably not selling the whole "i'm NOT an octegenarian!" aspect of my internet persona, but my main problem with this movie was that i couldn't understand about two-thirds of it. i'm not talking about the plot. there were at least flashes of insight when it came to what was going on with the plot. i'm talking about the actual lines, which for the most part i couldn't make out. the subtitles helped, but my friend and i commented almost as much on how we couldn't figure out what the heck was being said as we did on how gay everything seemed.
which, considering that it was a fighting movie, and considering the way we tend to joke in the first place, is SAYING SOMETHING.
now, i'd just like to take a step back, and point out that my reaction to fighting is just as formulaic as fighting itself. guess. go on and guess what i did and didn't like.
i'll give you a hint: the plot. its existence. do you think i found it original, or otherwise? and who do you think i'm going to blame for this? the actors, the writers, or the director?
actually, in this one instance i'd fool you. i thought the direction was pretty awesome. let's all just keep in mind that i don't know the first thing about moviemaking, but i found the camera work detailed and sympathetic, kind of like how the director to youth in revolt took an otherwise fairly revolting film and made more of it than he or she had to, except i liked fighting better than youth in revolt.
i mean, in a formula film, which i'm pretty sure fighting inarguably is, there's, you know, opportunity for good stuff to happen, and because that good stuff kind of exists in a vacuum, you do notice it pretty acutely.
terrence howard, for instance. OH MY GOD. either he IS that guy, or that was one FRACKING AMAZING performance. i can put it best like this: if a formula film about dance or street fighting or whatever is kind of like an opera seria, in which the plot takes place so that we can watch the featured subject happen (fights, dancing) as if it were arias surrounded by recit, than terrence howard's performance was a sonata in the middle of the opera. it's not like he stole the show; stealing a show is pretty unprofessional, in my opinion. it's just that his performance was so good, so detailed and eerie, sad and whole*, that it drew itself together throughout its disparate time-space in the movie. he wasn't the only one who acted beautifully. channing tatum was really really good. and brian j. white was just awesome: he would come onscreen and shower this brilliance that wasn't solely an effect of how cute he is. not solely. which, considering how cute he is, is, as usual, saying something--his acting was...yeah. awesome.
i'm kind of blathering.
i mean, the plot was pretty much nonsense--but there were layers; the idea of fighting was a metaphor, not just a descriptive thingee, so that though the sequence of events only kind of made sense, the underlying idea hanged together. it had heart, or something.
i'm glad i saw it.
no, thank YOU, america.
*ha ha, talk about your doctrine of the affections.
seriously, sra? seriously?
again, probably not selling the whole "i'm NOT an octegenarian!" aspect of my internet persona, but my main problem with this movie was that i couldn't understand about two-thirds of it. i'm not talking about the plot. there were at least flashes of insight when it came to what was going on with the plot. i'm talking about the actual lines, which for the most part i couldn't make out. the subtitles helped, but my friend and i commented almost as much on how we couldn't figure out what the heck was being said as we did on how gay everything seemed.
which, considering that it was a fighting movie, and considering the way we tend to joke in the first place, is SAYING SOMETHING.
now, i'd just like to take a step back, and point out that my reaction to fighting is just as formulaic as fighting itself. guess. go on and guess what i did and didn't like.
i'll give you a hint: the plot. its existence. do you think i found it original, or otherwise? and who do you think i'm going to blame for this? the actors, the writers, or the director?
actually, in this one instance i'd fool you. i thought the direction was pretty awesome. let's all just keep in mind that i don't know the first thing about moviemaking, but i found the camera work detailed and sympathetic, kind of like how the director to youth in revolt took an otherwise fairly revolting film and made more of it than he or she had to, except i liked fighting better than youth in revolt.
i mean, in a formula film, which i'm pretty sure fighting inarguably is, there's, you know, opportunity for good stuff to happen, and because that good stuff kind of exists in a vacuum, you do notice it pretty acutely.
terrence howard, for instance. OH MY GOD. either he IS that guy, or that was one FRACKING AMAZING performance. i can put it best like this: if a formula film about dance or street fighting or whatever is kind of like an opera seria, in which the plot takes place so that we can watch the featured subject happen (fights, dancing) as if it were arias surrounded by recit, than terrence howard's performance was a sonata in the middle of the opera. it's not like he stole the show; stealing a show is pretty unprofessional, in my opinion. it's just that his performance was so good, so detailed and eerie, sad and whole*, that it drew itself together throughout its disparate time-space in the movie. he wasn't the only one who acted beautifully. channing tatum was really really good. and brian j. white was just awesome: he would come onscreen and shower this brilliance that wasn't solely an effect of how cute he is. not solely. which, considering how cute he is, is, as usual, saying something--his acting was...yeah. awesome.
i'm kind of blathering.
i mean, the plot was pretty much nonsense--but there were layers; the idea of fighting was a metaphor, not just a descriptive thingee, so that though the sequence of events only kind of made sense, the underlying idea hanged together. it had heart, or something.
i'm glad i saw it.
no, thank YOU, america.
*ha ha, talk about your doctrine of the affections.
seriously, sra? seriously?
Monday, August 16, 2010
scott pilgrim vs. the world: sra like
Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World: movie, starring michael cera
i enjoyed the SHIT out of this. before making it clear that i'm not going to go much deeper into analysis of my reaction to it than what i've just stated, i should point out that i realize that "i enjoyed the SHIT out of this" is a pretty lame, nonspecific--in short, critically flabby--reaction. reasons i should be exerting more judgment on this movie are as follows:
1. i haven't finished the comic, but did read and enjoy about 4 of the books, before getting too weighted down with guilt about not returning them to the friend i'd borrowed them from. ergo my reaction should encompass various aspects of whether or not the movie represented the source material, etc.
2. i'm always an asshole, except about stuff i like. why is that? why can't i be more of an asshole about stuff i like, and less of an asshole about stuff i don't? wouldn't the world be a better place if people were more assholes about what they liked and less about what they didn't? ergo my critique should acknowledge that, even when i like something, i have an obligation to be critical of my enjoyment, so as not to employ a double standard. i owe this attempt at acuity, not just to america, but the WORLD(-orld-orld-orld).
3. i can be pretty harsh with movies that don't manage what this one did--that is, ones that are all slick bits of fluff with a lot of modern things in them (that whole clause could be read, by the eager mind, as a double entendre. the mind would have to be pretty eager, though). just cuz scott pilgrim vs. the world was a slick bit of fluff with modern stuff in it that i enjoyed the SHIT out of, doesn't mean that i get a pass in calling it out for its slick bit of modern fluffery (getting worse and worse, sra). or, at least, if i CAN give myself a pass in calling it out, i should explain WHY.
bah. screw 1 through 3. reasons why scott pilgrim vs. the world was an awesome movie and 'nuff said are as follows:
4. it managed its cameos with grace. there are some movies where i'm like, "if you shove a single 'nother pop culture movie actor reference down my throat i will scream--i promise you," which is an empty threat, but it makes me feel better. but scott pilgrim vs. the world's cameos were fun. they were kind of just there so that we could all say, "hey, there that is," and it was awesome.
5. the day after seeing it, i don't feel bad about liking it. at a distance, the plot does get a little more hole-filled, but not in a way that makes me feel duped exactly. i didn't like the ending...but i didn't like it in the theater either.
6. okay, and then the fun stuff was awesome! the cinematography and the fights and michael cera, who again i thought was wonderful, and the jokes and all the actors esp. knives chau (ellen wong, who has beautiful eyes) and MAE WHITMAN IS BACK!!! and i really liked mary elizabeth winstead's understated performance (i bet she's getting that "understated performance" bit a lot) and i freaking REALLY ENJOYED THE SOUNDTRACK which could have gone beyond wrong and did not.
it was like sin city, which i also enjoyed the shit out of, except i think i will object to having liked it less in the future than i object currently to having liked sin city.
hmm. it was like sin city, except without alexis bledel being sooooo from the south.
okay, no, i've got it. if sin city is the sin city version of, say, the adventures of food boy (watch it and you'll see what i mean--the adventures of food boy puts the "ur?" back in "disturbing"), then scott pilgrim vs. the world is the sin city version of the apartment.
oh, i said it. because nobody else has the...(uh, insert pertinent noun here...[i don't know what it is]) to do so!
i enjoyed the SHIT out of this. before making it clear that i'm not going to go much deeper into analysis of my reaction to it than what i've just stated, i should point out that i realize that "i enjoyed the SHIT out of this" is a pretty lame, nonspecific--in short, critically flabby--reaction. reasons i should be exerting more judgment on this movie are as follows:
1. i haven't finished the comic, but did read and enjoy about 4 of the books, before getting too weighted down with guilt about not returning them to the friend i'd borrowed them from. ergo my reaction should encompass various aspects of whether or not the movie represented the source material, etc.
2. i'm always an asshole, except about stuff i like. why is that? why can't i be more of an asshole about stuff i like, and less of an asshole about stuff i don't? wouldn't the world be a better place if people were more assholes about what they liked and less about what they didn't? ergo my critique should acknowledge that, even when i like something, i have an obligation to be critical of my enjoyment, so as not to employ a double standard. i owe this attempt at acuity, not just to america, but the WORLD(-orld-orld-orld).
3. i can be pretty harsh with movies that don't manage what this one did--that is, ones that are all slick bits of fluff with a lot of modern things in them (that whole clause could be read, by the eager mind, as a double entendre. the mind would have to be pretty eager, though). just cuz scott pilgrim vs. the world was a slick bit of fluff with modern stuff in it that i enjoyed the SHIT out of, doesn't mean that i get a pass in calling it out for its slick bit of modern fluffery (getting worse and worse, sra). or, at least, if i CAN give myself a pass in calling it out, i should explain WHY.
bah. screw 1 through 3. reasons why scott pilgrim vs. the world was an awesome movie and 'nuff said are as follows:
4. it managed its cameos with grace. there are some movies where i'm like, "if you shove a single 'nother pop culture movie actor reference down my throat i will scream--i promise you," which is an empty threat, but it makes me feel better. but scott pilgrim vs. the world's cameos were fun. they were kind of just there so that we could all say, "hey, there that is," and it was awesome.
5. the day after seeing it, i don't feel bad about liking it. at a distance, the plot does get a little more hole-filled, but not in a way that makes me feel duped exactly. i didn't like the ending...but i didn't like it in the theater either.
6. okay, and then the fun stuff was awesome! the cinematography and the fights and michael cera, who again i thought was wonderful, and the jokes and all the actors esp. knives chau (ellen wong, who has beautiful eyes) and MAE WHITMAN IS BACK!!! and i really liked mary elizabeth winstead's understated performance (i bet she's getting that "understated performance" bit a lot) and i freaking REALLY ENJOYED THE SOUNDTRACK which could have gone beyond wrong and did not.
it was like sin city, which i also enjoyed the shit out of, except i think i will object to having liked it less in the future than i object currently to having liked sin city.
hmm. it was like sin city, except without alexis bledel being sooooo from the south.
okay, no, i've got it. if sin city is the sin city version of, say, the adventures of food boy (watch it and you'll see what i mean--the adventures of food boy puts the "ur?" back in "disturbing"), then scott pilgrim vs. the world is the sin city version of the apartment.
oh, i said it. because nobody else has the...(uh, insert pertinent noun here...[i don't know what it is]) to do so!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
billy elliot: ARGH!!!!
Billy Elliot: movie starring the kid from jumper
...i liked him (imdb tells me he'll be playing st. john in a new version of jane eyre...okay, a., what's this version of jane eyre, and b., um, i would need to see this to believe it--not that i don't think he can do it, just that i'd like to see it)--i liked him and his brother and father and both the kids who have crushes on him, and i feel like the plot was handled delicately, and--
ARRRRGH!!! i don't even know what it is; just ARRRRGH! why did this movie give me such a pain? is it because i've turned my face against goodness and decency in movies? i want expostulation, rapidfire verbiage, and easily explicable plotlines with pre-recognizable emotional arcs?
probably.
i mean, as far as i could tell, it totally had a soul--and not just a soul within parameters, as some of these movies that i object so violently to do (the virgin suicides...just as an example). it had a respect for billy's process of self-expression; it showed us the way that he danced as himself, if you see what i'm getting at. i really liked that. not that i'm, like, the thoth of soul-in-movies-judging, no matter how much i like to pretend otherwise. i find myself humbled before billy elliot; i didn't like it, but i want to have. i'm capable of rejecting so many things so cruelly because of imagined slights or half-intentions, things not well thought out, too generic, or what have you. but none of these excuses for dislike apply in this case. hell, billy elliot even has marc bolan.
well, here we go--and prepare to be impressed with my audience paranoia manifesting itself yet again: i think maybe billy elliot highlights the fact (in my eyes, anyway) that cinematography itself can be a trap. i wonder if i can get away with saying that a visual, no matter how lovingly crafted, beautifully created, and germane to the point, can't tell a story.
i'm more than willing to concede that this claim may not be solid. but go with me for the moment. a visual, in its usual state, can capture an essence--and in the case of billy elliot, sometimes, the visual goes beyond the essential to, for lack of a better-established term, a sort of wild nights self-identification* (which, i'd argue, a moment captured in any medium can do--singing, pain, whatevs). this is of an awesomeness: not just the filmmaker's skill with visual representation, but his characterization of billy, are impressively bodied out by such moments.
but it's not storytelling.
yeah. arrgh, right? great characterization and beautiful depiction of states of uber-being are not storytelling, apparently. thanks, brain. i reeeally appreciate your opinions on this.
i guess what i'm trying to say is that without storytelling, with only atmosphere, i don't feel like the film survives. but it's just my opinion, and i rarely know what i'm talking about. i think it should be seen because of the things it has going for it being really great...
it's just that in the absence of an arc, even a strong characterization boils down to a bunch of beautiful and painful moments--extremely painful, because pointless. now, is this a reflection of the experience of life itself? possibly, but i don't think so. i've set my face against dub-cee williams** in this respect--i do think that every moment builds from a previous moment, and that that's why words in the end are a reflection of reality, rather than an imposition on reality (though they might not be the only reflection, and may to some extent be something of an imposition). more importantly, i don't think billy elliot provides an effective counter-argument to the above-stated. maybe nothing could, for me, except, like, something really bad, such as catalina caper. billy elliot doesn't touch me, except to hurt me. the hurt doesn't bring identification, but alienation. and i would argue (again, possibly untenably) that artistic stuff does carry the burden of hurting its audience in order to make said audience identify.
okay, i'm way out there now, and, if asked, would probably not be able to bring the argument back to anything specific to billy elliot, so should probably stop.
*jouissance? i don't think so...but i also may never have understood the term properly.
**william carlos williams' me-appointed '90's emcee name.
...i liked him (imdb tells me he'll be playing st. john in a new version of jane eyre...okay, a., what's this version of jane eyre, and b., um, i would need to see this to believe it--not that i don't think he can do it, just that i'd like to see it)--i liked him and his brother and father and both the kids who have crushes on him, and i feel like the plot was handled delicately, and--
ARRRRGH!!! i don't even know what it is; just ARRRRGH! why did this movie give me such a pain? is it because i've turned my face against goodness and decency in movies? i want expostulation, rapidfire verbiage, and easily explicable plotlines with pre-recognizable emotional arcs?
probably.
i mean, as far as i could tell, it totally had a soul--and not just a soul within parameters, as some of these movies that i object so violently to do (the virgin suicides...just as an example). it had a respect for billy's process of self-expression; it showed us the way that he danced as himself, if you see what i'm getting at. i really liked that. not that i'm, like, the thoth of soul-in-movies-judging, no matter how much i like to pretend otherwise. i find myself humbled before billy elliot; i didn't like it, but i want to have. i'm capable of rejecting so many things so cruelly because of imagined slights or half-intentions, things not well thought out, too generic, or what have you. but none of these excuses for dislike apply in this case. hell, billy elliot even has marc bolan.
well, here we go--and prepare to be impressed with my audience paranoia manifesting itself yet again: i think maybe billy elliot highlights the fact (in my eyes, anyway) that cinematography itself can be a trap. i wonder if i can get away with saying that a visual, no matter how lovingly crafted, beautifully created, and germane to the point, can't tell a story.
i'm more than willing to concede that this claim may not be solid. but go with me for the moment. a visual, in its usual state, can capture an essence--and in the case of billy elliot, sometimes, the visual goes beyond the essential to, for lack of a better-established term, a sort of wild nights self-identification* (which, i'd argue, a moment captured in any medium can do--singing, pain, whatevs). this is of an awesomeness: not just the filmmaker's skill with visual representation, but his characterization of billy, are impressively bodied out by such moments.
but it's not storytelling.
yeah. arrgh, right? great characterization and beautiful depiction of states of uber-being are not storytelling, apparently. thanks, brain. i reeeally appreciate your opinions on this.
i guess what i'm trying to say is that without storytelling, with only atmosphere, i don't feel like the film survives. but it's just my opinion, and i rarely know what i'm talking about. i think it should be seen because of the things it has going for it being really great...
it's just that in the absence of an arc, even a strong characterization boils down to a bunch of beautiful and painful moments--extremely painful, because pointless. now, is this a reflection of the experience of life itself? possibly, but i don't think so. i've set my face against dub-cee williams** in this respect--i do think that every moment builds from a previous moment, and that that's why words in the end are a reflection of reality, rather than an imposition on reality (though they might not be the only reflection, and may to some extent be something of an imposition). more importantly, i don't think billy elliot provides an effective counter-argument to the above-stated. maybe nothing could, for me, except, like, something really bad, such as catalina caper. billy elliot doesn't touch me, except to hurt me. the hurt doesn't bring identification, but alienation. and i would argue (again, possibly untenably) that artistic stuff does carry the burden of hurting its audience in order to make said audience identify.
okay, i'm way out there now, and, if asked, would probably not be able to bring the argument back to anything specific to billy elliot, so should probably stop.
*jouissance? i don't think so...but i also may never have understood the term properly.
**william carlos williams' me-appointed '90's emcee name.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
the big sleep, or when a classic's a classic, it's classic!
The Big Sleep: black and white starring...let's go with regis toomey as chief inspector bernie ohls
i think i could watch howard hawks' direction of paint drying. that dude kicks frank capra's ass out the door, as far as i am concerned. it happened one night? come on, what is there to write home about in that? clark gable's trumpet solo? hawks is the man for my money. i mean, capra comes up with these gorgeous shots that, ironically enough, end up with the same kind of aesthetic as '30's russian propaganda posters. cinematographic might makes right. the beauty of mr. deeds goes to washington is, for me, implicated by the judgmental, pixillated values of its storyline: the pictures so lushly captured by the film take on the same shape as its morals, become corrupted by their own desperate simplicity.
with hawks, you don't need to worry about anything being too simple. there's always a lot going on, and if one doesn't condone all of it (not that one has to, per se), it's okay, because there are so many other things that one can watch going on instead. for instance, i'm not too sure about all these random "sweethearts" and "dolls" that make philip marlowe so obviously the man of the hour...but i can let that go, because there was a lot of awesome crowding in around what i found objectionable.
i liked--fairly well--that it stuck pretty close to the book. there were more african americans, gay people, and nudes in the book, but, yeah, what can one expect? my main problem and yet delight was the bacall/bogart relationship, because it's what one wants from the book and does not get...but at the same time the book gives one something--well, okay, here's the final paragraph from the book:
"On the way downtown I stopped at a bar and had a couple of double Scotches. They didn't do me any good. All they made me do was think of Silver-Wig [that's Eddie Mars' wife], and I never saw her again."
this, after one of chandler's bizarre, tight, lush diatribes about death, is pretty much genius. It clings to the brain; it captures, you know, something (not sure quite what--some emotional state of loss and hard dreaming, maybe) exactly. it's like, in making the good parts version of the big sleep, the screenwriters lost the great parts version, which is the book. but on the other hand, i see what they were doing, because you can't just deny a '40's audience its bogey and bacall ending. you have to make allowances for the medium and for expectations. i guess '40's cinema is kind of like ours today--everything gets candy-coated because the consumer is king, or something like that. i mean, the big sleep has a big old edge to it--it's downright wicked within parameters (bacall singing "and her tears flowed like wine," the whole horse racing metaphor), but, as with movies today, there are certain things that just can't be depicted, can't be questioned. in the movie. the book is a slightly different story (one which leaves me questioning, among other things, raymond chandler's sexuality...but that's yet another story), but it was intended for a different audience (i think). chandler could write for pulp readers; hollywood couldn't produce movies for pulp watchers. or that's how it feels.
the above is a small sampling of my to-be famous "history by intuition." irving stone, i am not.
anyway, it's interesting to think about. all the acting is awesome, and the movie moves itself along. and the soundtrack is so cool. all those lush, almost formulaic developments, and the quasi-quixotic details...it's neat. it's keen.
yes. i've weighed in on the big sleep. because it was obvious that there needed to be yet another opinion on this classic available to the internet-having public. no need to thank me, america.
i think i could watch howard hawks' direction of paint drying. that dude kicks frank capra's ass out the door, as far as i am concerned. it happened one night? come on, what is there to write home about in that? clark gable's trumpet solo? hawks is the man for my money. i mean, capra comes up with these gorgeous shots that, ironically enough, end up with the same kind of aesthetic as '30's russian propaganda posters. cinematographic might makes right. the beauty of mr. deeds goes to washington is, for me, implicated by the judgmental, pixillated values of its storyline: the pictures so lushly captured by the film take on the same shape as its morals, become corrupted by their own desperate simplicity.
with hawks, you don't need to worry about anything being too simple. there's always a lot going on, and if one doesn't condone all of it (not that one has to, per se), it's okay, because there are so many other things that one can watch going on instead. for instance, i'm not too sure about all these random "sweethearts" and "dolls" that make philip marlowe so obviously the man of the hour...but i can let that go, because there was a lot of awesome crowding in around what i found objectionable.
i liked--fairly well--that it stuck pretty close to the book. there were more african americans, gay people, and nudes in the book, but, yeah, what can one expect? my main problem and yet delight was the bacall/bogart relationship, because it's what one wants from the book and does not get...but at the same time the book gives one something--well, okay, here's the final paragraph from the book:
"On the way downtown I stopped at a bar and had a couple of double Scotches. They didn't do me any good. All they made me do was think of Silver-Wig [that's Eddie Mars' wife], and I never saw her again."
this, after one of chandler's bizarre, tight, lush diatribes about death, is pretty much genius. It clings to the brain; it captures, you know, something (not sure quite what--some emotional state of loss and hard dreaming, maybe) exactly. it's like, in making the good parts version of the big sleep, the screenwriters lost the great parts version, which is the book. but on the other hand, i see what they were doing, because you can't just deny a '40's audience its bogey and bacall ending. you have to make allowances for the medium and for expectations. i guess '40's cinema is kind of like ours today--everything gets candy-coated because the consumer is king, or something like that. i mean, the big sleep has a big old edge to it--it's downright wicked within parameters (bacall singing "and her tears flowed like wine," the whole horse racing metaphor), but, as with movies today, there are certain things that just can't be depicted, can't be questioned. in the movie. the book is a slightly different story (one which leaves me questioning, among other things, raymond chandler's sexuality...but that's yet another story), but it was intended for a different audience (i think). chandler could write for pulp readers; hollywood couldn't produce movies for pulp watchers. or that's how it feels.
the above is a small sampling of my to-be famous "history by intuition." irving stone, i am not.
anyway, it's interesting to think about. all the acting is awesome, and the movie moves itself along. and the soundtrack is so cool. all those lush, almost formulaic developments, and the quasi-quixotic details...it's neat. it's keen.
yes. i've weighed in on the big sleep. because it was obvious that there needed to be yet another opinion on this classic available to the internet-having public. no need to thank me, america.
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